#oc: Salem

[glitter-alienz]

goofysona :p

[bunnykitty13]

updated my bat sona salem a lil bit moar >_<

(he/him)

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗 XVII

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: This is the ending chapter of this story. I hope I made this an enjoyable read for those who were willing to read this confusing yet… silly creation I have made with my brain cells. It has been fun to write and to see people love my characters. I thank you for your encouragement to write more and improve my skills.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

TW // Angst, Death, Violence, Body Horror.

Screeching upon metal wakes up my foggy filled brain. A groan leaving my lips as I move slowly around on the makeshift bed. Filling too weak still to actually make any bigger moves myself. The ache on my neck throbbing painfully like I was infected with a sickness or something similar.

Dragging my hand up through the fabric of the makeshift bed, I carefully placed my hand on my aching neck. Feeling a burning bump there, a sealed wound. What the hell did Dacre do to me? Did Dark Angels have some weird poison in their fangs?

With a low whine, I slowly shuffled on the bed. My muscles burning the moment I sat myself up on the bed. An exhausted huff leaving me at the effort to keep myself steady on top of the bed. My brain, far too woozy to do anything bigger than just trying to right myself on the bed.

Lightly rubbing my forehead with my fingers. Touching my skin felt like fire, like I was boiling my brain from the inside. My forehead burning up, my body shaking like I have a severe case of the flu. It felt like I was leaning left and right to keep myself steady.

A quiet chuff has me quickly looking around me dizzily. My body occasionally failing on me as I try to keep myself up right on the bed. My dizzy eyes looking all around the dark corners of the room for the rumbling sound. Hoping that it wasn’t Dacre returning from whatever he does when he is gone. I didn’t want to encounter him after his… bite.

A glint of silver shines in the dark for a split second. My eyes trying to focus on this appearance. Was this Dacre? Hiding in the shadows, just watching me? No, his armor didn’t have any silver in it. Was this some object I didn’t know of before in this room then?

The object glints again before coming forward, another chuff coming out from the armor, my eyes widening in the realization of the armor color and insignia of the Gray Knight.

The same Gray Knight that killed Clyde, cut him right in half.

I shuffle back on the makeshift bed when the Knight takes another step forward, a low whine-like sound coming from him. His bright blue visor never moving away from my panicking figure. His steps unnaturally quiet for someone so bulked up in heavy looking armor. Yet I notice his steps to be more slower from the first time I saw him, like he was trying to show he wasn’t a threat.

That had to be a trick. No Gray Knight were ever to be so… “kind.” This one only wanted to get my guard down so he can quite literally stab me in the back. To feel me struggle in his arms—

A hiss of his helmet disconnecting from his armor disrupts my thoughts. His hands lifting up the helmet from his head, a strong and chiseled jawline appearing before his pure white eyes glowed from behind his helmet, staring back at me. Long, untouched, white hair falling out from his helmet, making it look staticky.

Just like Salems.

“Where is Salem?” I couldn't help but immediately ask the Knight, looking away from his enticing eyes and at a random wall. His presence commanding: authoritative. This was a trick, this was a trick, this was a trick—

“Our son? He is with the Alpha Legionnaires, little maiden.” The Knight spoke, his voice deep, dominate sounding. His gauntlet placing his helmet on the edge of the makeshift bed.

“Our son?” I question, my eyebrows scrunching together in confusion, looking back up at him. How in the hell could I have a child with him? He was way bigger than me!

“Throne, what did they do to you?” He questions back, gently taking my jawline in the palm of his gauntlet. His form leaning down a bit to my level. My heart beating quickly at his sudden closeness.

“What do you mean?” I respond quietly.

“They took you from me. They took you from us.” The Knight growls lowly, his eyes roaming over my face, almost like he was calculating me. “Four years, I never stopped looking for you.”

Four years? I don’t remember anything then. Is this what they were hiding from me? That I was somehow connected to a Gray Knight out of all the Astartes possible? Apparently Alpha Legionnaires as well?

“They kept moving you away from me.” He reveals, his hand lightly thumbing at my cheek, making my bottom lip bounce every time he traced over it. His eyes tracing over every detail he could. “From my son.”

“I could sense our son’s birth and your demise then.” He continues, his hand gently moving down to my stomach making me shiver as he wraps his gauntlet around it and thumbs at it. His lips very close to my own. “It- it pained me when I couldn’t feel you anymore. I lashed out at one of the Legionnaires in response, just nicking their armor.”

“Throne, I wanted to do so much more.” He hisses through his teeth. “Yet, I knew they were yours just as you are mine. You would never forgive me if I did.”

“…Throne, I miss you.” He suddenly admits with a barely audible whine, placing his lips on mine, a little confused sound escaping me as my chest constricts at his words. His lips kissing down my face, his nose nuzzling into my skin as he inhales. “I miss you so much.”

I whine quietly when he tips my head gently back, attacking my neck with ever growing impatience. Leaving not an inch of exposed skin untouched. Then, he suddenly stops and growls. His tongue swirling in his mouth before he laps it over the bite wound skin on my neck as I wince in his hold. Feeling the ungrateful stinging of the wound as the Knight coated it in his saliva. Purring when he seemed satisfied with his work.

I wanted to whine out his name after such a declaration, but I didn’t know his name. It’s like I have it on the tip of my tongue, but nothing ever pops into mind. My mind going blank with any outcomes.

Though, I remember his name, just… from where?

The Knight quickly lifts his head up and growls at a dark corner of the room. His sound echoing through the room before the knight is body slammed. Armor sparking off armor as the two Astartes snarl and fight one another. Growling things in their gothic I never truly understood.

I sat there on the bed for a moment; stunned at the sudden brawl. Never have seen such a thing happen before. Gauntlets sparking at armor, sounding like they were shattering bones. Inhuman sounds coming from their throats while they both try and get the higher advantage. Their hits growing ever harsher the more they circle one another.

In an attempt to get away from the growing aggression. I slipped out of the bed despite my protesting muscles. The Dark Angel bite having a lot more effect to it than what I had thought it did. I had nearly fell over my own to legs, shaking with each step, my eyes getting dizzy.

I yelped when I felt a hand take me by the hair and shoved me into the ground. My hands reacting quickly to save myself a broken nose on the concrete before my hair was gripped at again, pulling my head back up to meet the unreadable white gaze of the Gray Knight.

“Such a sweet little thing.” Dacre purred; English I didn’t know he had spilling from behind his helmet. My hands struggling with his tightening gauntlet in my hair.

“Dark Angel.” The Knight warns, shifting in his place.

“She tasted sweet too.” Dacre continues, rumbling at the memory. “Had me fuck her while you were unavailable for four years! I thought Gray Knights were better than that?”

“…This ancient Terra is... different to navigate.” He growls lowly, his eyes flickering from me to Dacre.

“Is that so?” Dacre taunts, gripping my hair back as I clench my teeth at the burning pain of it being pulled. “Well, if you were ever more late, I would have fucked her again myself. Provided her with another son; another bond, since you killed my other one.”

I whine at the pain of his grip on my hair and the admission of his unholy plan he wanted to do with me. How could he do such a thing to me? I known him to be kind and gentle, not this… psycho! Perhaps it was all a ruse from him?

“Let her go and I might spare your own life, Dark Angel.” The Knight threatens, his gauntlet twitching. His aura turning cold around him. I would have shrunk away from him if I was able to.

“You killed my bonded! What makes you think I’ll keep yours alive?” Dacre snarls, tugging at my hair. Staining my neck as I cry out. Fuck, do I want to cry right now.

“…You can always get another.” The knight counters.

“Oh, but it isn’t the same.” Dacre huffs. “Perhaps you can find another?”

I choke while an sicking crack fills my ears. My body feeling weirdly weightless. Void of any nerve to feel as I watched myself drop to the ground. Unable to feel the pain of feeling the concrete underneath me. It didn’t feel cold or warm, just… nothing but ringing roars and Salem calling out my name.

“Mother!” I could hear him yell. “Mother! Mother!”

Oh, he sounds happy, giggling in delight. Such a little cheery child of mine. Always running around with a smile on his face. Always there to help me out. Oh, my sweet little one.

Salem is there, crying on his mother shoulder begging his mother to awaken. Please be awake. You’re not really dead, are you? You’re just playing right? You’re just playing! But not matter how many times he begs; she never wakes up.

Not matter how many times Solor had sliced away at the Dark Angel. No matter how many times Solor had flattened the Dark Angels armor beneath him with his gauntlets. The body blood and body matter splatting against his armor as he roars out in anguish.

The only ones that were keeping it together were the Alpha Legionnaires. Asclepius carefully going to work to pull their son away from their little serpent. His own heart weeping at the sight of their unmoving serpent as Salem snuggles into his armor. His breath stuttering while Asclepius himself tries to purr out to their little son. Watching as Hydra gently picks up the limp body of their little serpent in his arms. Hydra’s helmet giving her a little nudge on her cheek and a saddened coo he has never heard from his brother.

Leviathan was tasked to pull Solor out of his rage for just a moment, being the bigger and stronger one out of the other two. He successfully gets Solor to behave he mentions their son as Leviathan suggests cleaning himself off first before reuniting with their son. Not wanting to terrorize their little one any further.

Once remotely in a better position, a few days pass as the four of them take turns properly raising their little son while they try to find somewhere, someone to resurrect their little serpent. Their hearts still clenching, weeping at the death of their little serpent, their little maiden. Yet, they find nothing so far.

So, in the meantime they place her body into a coffin, crafted beautifully by a Blood Angel. Silky flowers lining inside of her coffin. Handpicked by their son and them. Ranging between rose's, camellias, blue iris's, daffodil's, gladiolus, and hyacinths. All perfectly surrounding her body like she was laying in a field of flowers herself.

They let her body rest in that coffin, occasionally revisiting while they search for someone to resurrect their little maiden as Salem is taught the ways of the Gray Knights, being far too similar of being one besides his eyes being off his mother. His height way bigger than an average human. His strength and durability different as well as they hunt down every last remaining human and Astartes associated with her death.

They will have their little bonded and mother once more.

ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣: 𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗 XVI

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥: “𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗” 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕷𝖎𝖘𝖙

[ruerock]

blood witch & hellboy

[iaus]

find me

@cybebully ask and ye shall receive

G | 1,520 words if i found a way to stay with you tonight it would only make me late for a date i can't escape - way out there, lord huron

There’s a thought that breaks through the rage—that lingers with every swing, with the burning radiance that sears Salem’s skin and fur, makes his very being hum: Frederick’s dead. He knows it in his very marrow, as if someone has whispered the secret into his skin.

Intimate. True. Unavoidable.

It’s a rage he hasn’t felt in decades—the years of numbness stretching out behind him and breaking in a single jagged line. Between the rage, the burn, the anticipation of the hunt: Everything falls before him. The last water weird splits, scatters back to the water it came from and it’s as easy as breathing to cast off Yerafyn’s spell.

The water greets him like an old friend—and then the darkness.

The noise is muffled within—distant, the stench of digested food overwhelms the senses.

Finding Frederick is easy. He has memorized his slight frame, and the burn of celestial light illuminates him among the acid. He draws him up, easily, like he has done so many times before—a perfect weight in his arms.

He tightens his hold on Freawaru, and with a bestial snarl he smashes the flail into the inner walls of the creature’s belly. Light and rage heavy his blows, and he laughs as the creature rumbles around him—pained contractions. He stays close—ready to wrap clawed hands around Frederick—he won’t leave him. Even in the haze of rage and pain, he knows Yerafyn and Maeve can fix this—they brought Salem back from the halls of the dead and their familiar whispers, they can fix Frederick.

With a snarling laugh, he brings Freawaru down again along soft, tender flesh.

He tightens his hold on Frederick—his body, his corpse, gods it was fine when Salem was the one dead on the floor—and is once again, submerged. The burning of light of his body, giving one last burst of pain to the fetid creature. It shudders and with a bubbling scream, sinks.

Salem has always felt as if the rage leaving his body were a sudden wave of cold.

He feels nothing as it sputters out—the light within him smothered to ash as the weight in his arms feels so heavy.

He thinks, briefly, of Alfie—of the nameless child he knew would eventually rip out his heart. Death has been no stranger to his life, but he had hoped he had left its toll behind in the blood-stained desert.

“You—you can fix this,” his voice feels hoarse, scraping, and bloody as he surfaces. Saltwater burning in his lungs, his wounds—the burns beneath his eyes from where his light burned, burned, burned.

He feels so much weaker now—human, again, clutching Frederick as if he is the last shred of this soft approach to humanity. But… he trusts Yerafyn and Maeve (and what a strange realization to make as he swims, one-handed and bleeding to land). He can feel the burns upon his face—tear-tracks blurring down his cheeks—the raw burns. Everything aches in a distant way—he lays Frederick upon the rock, gingerly, hand cupped behind his head.

“Please,” he says, head bowed.

He is no mage, no cleric—the wellspring of his healing is not enough to touch where Frederick has gone.

He hears, again, like he does in his dreams—the call of his family.

All he can see is Frederick’s slack face—the burns along his skin. The chamber pulses with divine energy—he hears wings unfurling before he turns. The divine has always hurt to look at for too long.

“I can help,” the voice rings out echoing and within his skull. The planetar extends a hand, its expression serene—as if it has no clue. “For a price.”

Yerafyn inclines her head, a familiar glimmer in her eye. Frederick’s coin purse has always been the heaviest of the party’s. But—

“I’ll pay it.” Salem’s head snaps up—bleary-eyed, exhausted—and before he can think he is rasping, “Anything.”

Gold has its uses—the most powerful magic in his own life. He has never had so much as he does now. But why wouldn’t he part with it? He would give his own body, the rest of his days—and, oh, what a realization. He looks, wildly, from Frederick to Yerafyn to Maeve as the realization sits heavy in his chest.

What a heavy weight a family is.

(He swore this would never happen again.)

“Name your price.”

The planetar smiles, serene and unaffected, and asks for gold—the easiest price he has ever paid. “This will take some time.”

Salem nods—and time stands still for him, continues to flow for Yerafyn and Maeve. They are the heroes—practical, good-hearted, worried about the state of the raging storm outside. There is still the matter of the world to save, a portal to close, a weapon to retrieve.

The talk muffles—as if he were back in the aboleth’s belly again.

He takes Frederick’s cold hand. The Sword Coast could drown for all he cares. The heroics are for Yerafyn and Maeve to decide—nothing beyond these cavern walls truly matters.

His mind wanders: To the wall of dead, the sound of his family’s voice on the air, the name he forgot, the faces that blur with every passing day, and again and again he watches Frederick be swallowed.

He doesn’t know why he expects it to be gradual—for the warmth to return to Frederick’s body, for him to wake up peacefully. The cough that rocks Frederick is sudden, violent and Salem lurches forward without a thought—wraps his arms around Frederick to pull him close. Safe. Warm. Alive.

If he were a man of words, there are a million things he could say to him. But they are all lost in a wash of relief.

This is enough.

*

Salem drinks in the sight of Frederick—the winds howl around them, and the rain is a heavy, unrelenting torrent. Frederick looks wretched. Tired and wan, the acid burns not quite healed properly. He had put his hands on Frederick’s shoulders in the Crushing Wave’s lower chambers—poured every last bit of his scant, healing magic he could into his skin. (It wasn’t nearly enough.)

The world could end from this.

Salem has already devoted himself to follow Yerafyn and Maeve. He knows he is meant to help them—dive into the eye of the storm. He trusts them all to take care of themselves—he has seen terrifying power from all of his companions.

He knows Frederick can take care of himself.

But all he can see is Frederick’s lifeless face—he never wants to him like that again.

“Do you want to stay?”

There is no judgement from Yerafyn’s question. She is kind—practical. As is Maeve. Having your soul cleaved back to your body is not a peaceful act. Salem can see the exhaustion—the bags under his eyes, the droop of his shoulders.

This is Frederick’s fight—but it doesn’t have to be.

“You can find my wagon and evacuate,” Maeve pipes up, already standing on tiptoe to point out where it’s hidden.

Salem feels, again, as if time is standing still. He thinks, maybe he should try to kiss Frederick—to make some cheeky promise about how they’ll be back before he knows it. He doesn’t have to worry—they’ve done this before. The words, as they always do, fade when he catches Frederick’s eye.

“Frederick,” Yerafyn’s calm voice breaks the thought Salem has. “Could you cast fly on him?” She holds a hand out, gestures at Salem. “Just in case.”

Frederick nods.

He reaches out a hand, stretching up—Salem watches the motion, rapt, and notices a pause. A moment hesitation, before Frederick places a hand on Salem’s bare shoulder. Frederick’s magic has always been warm—suiting. Despite the situation, the ache in his chest, the wonder if they’re doing the right thing.

They caused this: Frederick’s kidnapping. The Trident.

Salem lowers his eyes. He does not think his heroic companions would appreciate the sentiment that he would let the city drown if it meant they could stay with Frederick. That he would rather stay with him—return to higher ground and rest. Let Frederick rest safely—where Salem can see him.

He stays quiet.

He focuses on the warmth of Frederick’s spell settling over him. The wind howls in his ears. Soon, the rain lashes the warmth from his body.

At least, he thinks as he looks down at Frederick, he’ll be safe.

Frederick pulls back—spell cast.

The right words always feel stuck at the back of his throat.

“Stay safe,” he says.

I think I’ll regret this, Salem thinks. Not saying the right words. Not staying with you.

He watches Frederick, sees the way his face crumples. He wonders if he’s imagining Frederick is holding back tears—if a sick, selfish part of him is hoping for it. Frederick’s face is wet with rain.

“Stay safe,” Frederick echoes, voice thick, “all of you.”

Salem thinks his own face might be wet with tears.

[cavitypets]

lps ocs 4/5!

[vinnigami]

doodles from yesterday

[r0-boat]

Salem finding a human (lingerie, glittered-up, perfumed, etc) writhing in his web at 12am like "oohh nooo you caught mee~" except when he gets closer the human realizes that this is in fact the wrong spider and the wrong spidernest. Cue the flustered apologies while half naked in web bondage in the middle of a chilly autumn night. Midway through the apology the tinder hookup calls-salem had to pick up the call because the human got themselves very stuck to his web and cant access their bag- to cancel bc their dog got sick. To make matters even worse, prior to the cancel call salem accidentally dropped their neatly folded coat into a puddle when he was distracted by them trying to wiggle out of the webbing (this made them more stuck)

OMG can you imagine!?

*What is this?!* his inner thoughts screamed at the sight before him.

A human naked in his silks wrapped deliciously like a gift for him. Only that it wasn't really for him.

The misleading look on his face betrayed different emotion than his true feelings, which was numbness since his soul left his body as soon as he saw you.

The silence was loud when the human realizing that they had the wrong drider.

The Voice cracked cuz they pathetically explained their situation the poor human looked like they were about to cry from Shear embarrassment.

Salem could have yelled could have chewed this human out but instead, he stayed silent. His brain not yet reacting to the situation before him. Instead he quietly said " do you need help?" Has he watched you helplessly struggle within his webbing.

Salem has been called many things and Salem is not a good guy, but never would he ever take advantage of somebody in such a vulnerable situation. A human trembling on the verge of tears and a beautiful one at that made his blood run cold.

You're nod gave him the signal though he hesitated to put his hands on you, Salem effortlessly freed you from the silk bindings.

The autumn night was cloudy that's the two of you waited for your date to come get you outside the cave halfway through your apology your phone in your hand chimes signaling you of a message. Your heart sinks further your date has not only bailed on you but wanted it to be over before it even started...

Salem who was no about looking over your shoulder reading your messages his face scrunched and disgust. Your eyes are red as your whole body shakes.

" what a douchebag." Salem grumbles.

Before you could say anything a drop of water hits the screen of your phone. It didn't take long for the rain to follow...

" great I'm heartbroken cold naked, and wet..." your voice shook. You wanted to cry, but at this point, the thing was coming out."

he plays the hand over his mouth, stifling a laugh.

You gave him a look.

And immediately he responded with with a small smile and a tremble in his voice. "sorry sorry... it's just... it's not you , its the fact that you pretty to yourself up made sure to wrap yourself up in silk just to be in a stranger's territory instead of your date's... sounds like something in a shitty rom-com."

Despite your embarrassment and stress you crack a smile.

" yeah, I'm so stupid..."

Salem Smile faded putting his arm around you. Before giving you smaller one.

"No, he was stupid. You were only a little bit of a dumbass."

He stands up stretching." Come with me I'll take you back to my place I'll get you something warm..." his eyes refuse to meet yours does. His face feels warm, his tone lowering loud enough for you to hear. "I'll even make you some food or something if you want." He holds out his hand for you to take it and you do.

" oh yeah I almost forgot." He mumbled taking off his leather jacket and putting it around you it was a little beat up with scratches and old stains.

" you can keep it if you want I don't want to keep something after a human wore it."

He turns away, but you can still see his ears turning red.

[nazali]

what do you call a group of vampires. a swarm? a colony? a flock? here is my gaggle of fledglings from vtmb

template cred.

[ikiprian]

[GCPD Anonymous Tip Line, Automated Voice]: … To speak with an operative, press 3, or hang up and dial (XXX) XXX - XXXX. To leave your anonymous tip, press 4 and speak clearly. The menu options will repeat... This is GCPD’s— [BEEP]

[Anonymous]: Hey, it’s me again. Just, ah, got a message for you. Under Sprang Bridge, north side? Tell Gordon I found another. No, it wasn’t me, and no, I won’t explain how I always know. Uh. See ya! Or not, actually. [CLICK!]

batman OC time! it’s Salem delos Santos, meta extraordinaire! his powers include:

talking to ghosts! (kind of)

finishing ghosts’ business! (like an unpaid intern)

finding dead bodies, usually those which once belonged, you guessed it, to ghosts! (jesus christ)

getting caught up in murder investigations! (JESUS CHRIST)

and being a short king <3

snips of his fic and more doodles live under the tag “scrybaby” thank u for reading!

[peachyyjellie]

sopping wet cat in human form

[oc-tournaments]

ROUND TWO - MATCH 13

AMARIS TASSE vs SALEM

AMARIS TASSE: The owner asked not to be tagged.

SALEM: @irusanw4

VOTE BASED ON THE INFORMATION BELOW CUT!!

Propaganda Content Warnings: Child death for AMARIS.

AMARIS TASSE:

PROPAGANDA: accidentally ran over a child when he was 16, couldn't bear to own up to it, ended up fleeing the entire country [the us] via boat. now he's stuck in an anomalous house he can't leave [well, he can, but only if he comes back. any attempts to permanently escape have been futile] in the middle of a forest in denmark. meanwhile, the other residents of this house are in terrible situations of their own - namely, one man who was almost beginning to seem like their father, an ex-hitman on the run from his previous 'employer'. the house is in active danger of being attacked at any time, hell, the ex-hitman mentioned was kidnapped, and this relatively unskilled, unfit child can do nothing but sit and watch the whole time ^__^ he's having a lovely time

THEME SONG:

SALEM:

PROPAGANDA: They get put in all of my situations. They are forcibly turned into a domestic griffin for several years. They get hunted down by bounty hunters. They run a farm and lizard chicken monsters that emit human screams for fun are the only reason their livestock is not eaten. They don't have coping mechanisms for shit. They're afraid of getting attached to people. They throw bricks at people at night. They don't know multiplication. The god-killing mushroom being doesn't like them very much. They're bilingual and bad at it. Sometimes dragons try to burn down the nearby village and they have to leave their lizard chickens in charge of the farm so they can go piss off feral griffins into fighting the dragon. They're wanted for tax evasion but they don't know what taxes are. Their lizard chickens bite them for no good reason. The feral griffins bite them for good reason. They believe big pharma's lies. They're sarcastic but don't have tone for shit so everyone just thinks they're an asshole. They're also just an asshole.

THEME SONG:

[bunnykitty13]

can you show all your fursonas 👀

YEAS these r my current sonas !!! i’ve been wanting to adjust some of their designs (mostly cupcake and salem) so i did it here >_<

[benthicbyte]

very late art fight prep. i'm benthicbyte there btw

[ruerock]

salem ref 🫶 he’s my xmen oc with blood manipulation ability !!

[iaus]

i have it on good authority that salem is going to get put in a saw trap btw