#sanguine friday

[charmspoint]

Sanguine Friday 2

Time to introduce the protagonist of my og story.

Art has been drawn by @lilleeboi who did such a wonderful job bringing my boy to life and you should go give them lots of love.

Name: Prinnsal

Gender: Agender

Pronouns: He/Him

Age: 280yrs

Height: 179cm

Orientation: Demiromantic Asexual

Affiliation: Rezasel (ex), Duchess Eliza

Belief faction: The hands of the New Brood (eventually and without contact with other members)

Personality: Having a personality is something Prinnsal is still getting used to. Having spent his whole life as a tool of someone else’s will, feelings and opinions are new and strange and not completely defined. To others he comes across as cold and calculated. He finds little merriment in things and a lot of annoyance in them and other people. He is acquainted with a position of a servant and that is about the only way he knows how to relate to people, which no longer works for him because the people left on this earth are those he doesn’t respect. Humans. Vampires. He feels like he is above both of those species and plenty of his own. While most ex-angels mourn their gods and plan on their return, Prinnsal absolutely despises his own. The very first feeling he developed independently was the stark relief of his god’s death. This makes him feel alienated from the others of his kind, so he prefers to avoid their company as well. He is a strict perfectionist and prefers to be self sufficient if he can, but also has a sharp mind for tactics and details. In the end he is a sword learning how to become a human being, cold, sharp, brutal and wrestling every new emotion into understanding and acceptance. There is a sort of stubborn pride to him that keeps him going and a self absorbedness of someone who is only now finding a self to be absorbed in. Despite all that, at his core he’s still an angel meant to serve. Meant to be used. No matter how much he tries for self-sufficiency there will always be a part of him searching for a new ruler. Someone to give his life direction and order, someone he could live and die for. He is far too proud to admit this core need to himself, far too stubborn in trying to fight his own nature and be a fully realized person without the shred of the baggage that comes with his origins. But it’s still a part of him. This growing, hungry, need for obsession. In the end he is angel through and through and he would burn himself inside out if the right person told him to.

Appearance: Prinn cuts a striking, clean figure, as sharp as the sword he carries. He’s meticulous to a fault about the way he presents himself, preferring unobtrusive black and white schematics for his clothes, as well as outfits that look professional and elegant. He cares little for jewellery and fluff and only wears Duchess’ red jewels as the sign of who he belongs to and why he mustn’t be messed with. As all other angels, his skin is pressed with long faded runes binding him to the service of his god. Once upon a time they used to be pure silver like his eyes. Now they are barely visible on his skin. He still prefers to keep his marks covered up and rarely shows more skin than his neck. When he chooses to extend his wings, they are silver with black tips, built more for speed than for power.

Interests: Swords and swordplay, art, architecture, fine food

Fears: Whips, being in another’s complete control again, dying from a blood drain

Habits and quirks: Tends to overly focus on the design of things when panicked as a way to distract himself, prefers the art that is long lasting (architecture) to art that is fickle and changes by the moment (music), genetically talented for all of it though.

Goals: Ensuring his own safety and survival in a world bent to get him killed, being in another’s complete control again

Lines in the sand: While he tries to strictly care for only himself and no one else, willing to sacrifice anything and anyone for his own survival, he does have a soft spot for what remains of his original angel cohort and doesn’t want them to come to harm as a result of his actions.

Nightmare of the body: Like all angels post deaths of the gods, Prinn is only just getting to know what free will is. For his entire existence he had been a little more than a tool and a weapon to be utilized in his god’s agendas and having the ability to make his own decisions is a strange and clumsy process. Like all the angels of Razasel that had been made to populate the city of Brilnant, Prinnsal had been changed from his core the moment his god decided to overturn it from the city of art and beauty into a war factory. It was a shoddy work, as Razasel’s mind had already started fraying, with the aggression and vigilance of a guard being carelessly shoved into flesh of a being made to be a muse and a teacher. It leaves Prinnsal anxious, jumpy and torn between who he used to be and who he’s meant to be now, never able to rightly fulfill one or the other again.  Between his new found free will and the ruined remains of his design, Prinnsal is amidst a struggle to finalize his identity as an independent person. Or to even realize what being an independent person is.

[iron-hearts-ablaze]

He snuck off from camp in the middle of the night while the rest were safely nestled in their beds. Call it a flight of whimsy. An idea that struck as a most precious of gift for Karlach. She hadn’t wanted his gift of eternity, not yet. But he’d offer her something just as delicious. He left a note for her to meet him in the graveyard. There she’d witness the most delightful of sights. “Come to me and kneel.” He called out into the dark.

From the shadows emerged him. Gortash. Two pinpoint bite scars on his neck. His eyes orange with the hold of compulsion even in the dark. The man quietly with disgust writ on his face kneeled in the dirt. He glared up at them in defiance, but didn’t say a word. He was still soiled by the dirt of his own grave. The one Astarion buried him in.

Astarion had commanded him not to speak. Those lips of his sealed until his master deemed him worthy enough to.

“A gift for you. He’s perfectly obedient and more importantly—“ His lips curled into a devious smile. “—resistant to most forms of violence. I can give him the command to be obedient to you too. All you have to do is ask.”

Unprompted Ask || Always Accepting

A note in such elaborate scrawl. How quaint. She didn't need a name at the bottom to know who it would come from. A graveyard? Rather stereotypical, but there was a feeling it may just be worth her while. As she trudged through the near empty streets of Baldurs Gate, she fumed slightly as she dug through her thoughts. If this was another way to badger her into accepting his offer to become his Consort - or whatever bull he tried to sell her - she would be done with this little affair of theirs. It was fun while it lasted. But she didn't need his by-proxy form of eternity. She had her own plans in mind... The Netherbrain was closer to hand than ever before. She just had Gortash in the way now. And once she dined on his bones and soaked in his blood, she'd take that last stone and take control of the brain - of her fate - once and for all. She would get there on her own, by her own prowess, not off power borrowed from him. She admired his hunt for power, it matched her own, but it would never overtake her own drives...

Karlach folded her arms when she got to the graveyard. He was fairly easy to spot, his pale frame practically glowing in the moon's light. The air around her changed when Gortash showed himself - the unmistakable signs of him being Astarion's spawn showed themselves instantly. At first, all she felt was cold-blooded fury. How dare he! She was so fucking close to taking Gortash's life for herself, how dare this prick stand in the way of her glory! But as her breath quickened, her hands balled into fists, he said something that caused pause.

Resistant to pain... Pain she could inflict on him whenever it pleased her... Gortash - completely owned by them her. What a keen prospect. With a darkening glare, her naturally amber eyes seemed to reflect as much as the vampires did as she approached the kneeling man that stole her life. Yet, created her.

"You probably don't remember the last thing you said to me," Karlach's speech was almost sultry. Utterly driven by a lust for violence towards him. She cupped Gortash's stubbled cheeks and stroked them. "But I do. 'No hard feelings, sweetheart'. And there aren't, are there... Sweetheart." Her hands twisted inward, digging her nails into his skin, drawing blood with an excited glint in her eye.

"Oh Astarion, how you spoil me." She stood up, licking the blood off her hand. It was sweeter than she expected, though maybe that was just the exhilaration of the prospect dancing on her tongue. "I ought to get you something nice. The city would make for a good start, I reckon, now we have the last Netherstone." Blood still coating her lips, she leaned in all the closer, but not closing the gap entirely. "It's about fucking time we take what we're owed...But, until then," A soft sigh. She can suck it up for this one thing. As a treat. Speaking almost at a purr, if she was going to belittle herself she may as well lay it on thick. "Please may I borrow your little pet for a bit?"

[billvsgirl]

the songbird : part one

summary ; reader is a beloved, headstrong singer at a saloon in new mexico. billy is just looking for somewhere to play some poker. it’s a match made in heaven.

warnings ; some heavy insinuation (only above the cut) but aside from that, none yet 👀 i dont know if you can classify this as a slow burn but it is for me because my writing stamina is weak as hell 😇 also i might have accidentally mary sue’d reader but thats my issue

also not beta read (im lazy)

author’s note ; HIII to anyone who’s reading this, i’m sorry in advance, this is my first time writing in a very long while so forgive me. if you have any comments or suggestions please let me know 🙏 i thank @goosita and @billysgun for inspiring me to write for billy (y’all always eat thank you for supplying me with the best billy fics) pls let me know if y’all wanna see more of this series and i’m open to requests !!! okay thats all tyty

—

billy pulled the door closed behind himself ever so carefully, making sure not to alert anyone else who might still be awake in the boarding house.

he turned towards the room to look at you; waiting infront of him expectantly- yet still a bit nervous, akin to a tense game of cards. it was his move now.

you leaned into his touch as he brought a hand up to caress your cheek, stroking gently with his thumb. “my beautiful girl,” he spoke softly, quirking the corners of his lips up into a smile.

“are you sure you’re alright with this, darlin’? we don’t have to.”

but oh, how you so desperately wanted to. because it was him, because it was billy.

-

he had wandered into your life by chance; a raggedy stray appearing in a saloon on a friday night, just looking to make some cash off of a game of poker.

you were there, too, hidden behind a humble stage curtain. you dusted some lint off of your dress and cleared your throat before donning your guitar and revealing yourself to the bar patrons with a confident, nearly sanguine smile.

“why hello there, everyone! d’ya miss me?”

and you had the instant attention of the majority of the tired souls in the saloon, ears and eyes becoming alert. if there weren’t smiles, there were whistles, cheers, claps- and other things inbetween.

there was no argument amongst the patrons that you were special. you held a strong and awfully charismatic persona when you were up on that stage, performing each weekend. when you had first started singing publicly, give or take a year or so ago, it took time for the people there to pay mind to you- but there was only so much they could do before your cadence, your charm, drew them in. and now, the townsfolk always looked forward to your appearances.

“oh please, don’t flatter me! it’ll all go to my head. how’s ‘bout we get to some songs instead, boys?”

a bit of soft laughter could be heard, dispersed throughout the room, before some more scattered claps- and a low chatter returned within the building while you propped yourself onto the stool at the center of the platform.

“learned this one from my father- i hope y’all enjoy it, an’ feel free to sing along if ya’ know it too.”

you began to strum, and the noise in the room lowered at your command. if anyone wasn’t paying attention before, they were now.

“O bury me not,”

and the raggedy stray finally looked up from his hand of cards, sapphire blue eyes taking in your beauty for the first time.

“on the lone prarie.”

your voice was amber honey flowing over a silver spoon, it was devistatingly sweet on the tongue, and all the more addicting. even the most haughty cowboys couldn’t help but lend an ear to you.

“these words came low, and mournfully

from the pallid lips of the youth who lay

on his dying bed at the close of day.”

of course, it didn’t hurt the fact that you were pretty. anyone would agree. but the men there stopped bothering you with crude requests and comments a long time ago- you’d established that it wouldn’t be tolerated, that you weren’t some woman of the night who’d play into the egos of these dogs who assumed they were above everyone else. and what were they to do?

nevertheless, you were alluring. you had a voice that charmed snakes and tempted songbirds to whistle along. so, eventually, they left you be. and that was the way it was.

“he had wasted and pined ‘til o’er his brow,

death’s shades were slowly gathering now

he thought of home and loved ones nigh

as the cowboys gathered to see him die.”

some of the patrons softly sang along to that folk song, including the one that sat a bit further from the stage, who had laid his cards aside later than the others.

he wasn’t fully aware of the small smile etched across face, but he was aware of the way your dress draped gracefully over your legs, the way your hair flowed freely upon your head, the way your eyelashes batted against your skin each time you blinked, the way your hands held your guitar.

he was well aware that he had not seen a lady like you before.

and well after you finished your set, and you had taken time to sit down at the bar and thank the bartender for your drink, he found it in himself to approach you.

and if you were a bit apprehensive, he took mind of that, and kept a small distance whilst lowering his hat from his head.

“hello, ma’am, how are you doin’ tonight?”

you couldn’t help but soften your hardened expression just a bit at the sight of him; eyes that bore right into your heart and pleaded innocence, even though you had heard the chatter throughout the bar that night;

that he had accumulated bounties, that he was a force not to be reckoned with,

that he was ‘dangerous.’

“quite alright, thank ya’, can i help you, cowboy?”

you were curious, but you weren’t downright stupid. you’d certainly dealt with worse, and the demeanor of this man begged that he had no distasteful intentions, but there was further convincing to be done for your guard to come down.

“i just wanted to say- you’ve got a real beautiful voice. it was a nice treat after the day i’ve had, ma’am.”

his voice was soft, and he carried himself well, though you could hear notes of nervousness in the way his breath hitched slightly halfway through his speech. you tilted your head a bit, furrowing your brows.

“you’re william bonney, isn’t that right?”

he shifted his stance, breaking eye contact to look down towards the hat he held in his hands. he cleared his throat and looked back up at you with a coy smile.

“yes’m, so you’ve heard- i’ve heard em’ talkin’ about you too, albeit, for much nicer reasons, miss y/n y/l/n.”

and if the way your name rolled off of his tongue made your cheeks a couple of shades pinker than usual, that was your business and nobody else’s.

he was good looking, that couldn’t be denied. good looking in the kind of way that carried much more depth than anyone you’d seen before. good looking in the way of his strikingly blue eyes, his brown hair that curled up at the ends, the button up shirt and pants that complimented his figure perfectly, his strong, yet softened, demeanor.

“so, s’it true? what they say about you?”

“depends what they’re sayin’, ma’am. maybe, maybe not.”

“well, are you as dangerous as they say you are?”

“only when i need to be, ma’am.”

he was definitely a gentleman- that, or he was putting up a real good act. it wasn’t often that you were approached out of genuine, unsolicited interest. but william- who now insisted you instead call him billy, went silent each time you even looked like you wanted to say something.

and on the two of you went, having conversation through the rest of the night. he didn’t let on about a lot of things, he’d gotten used to being a man of few words. he wanted to know everything about you- as much as you were comfortable saying. and to his delight, you had lots to say.

the both of you were a few drinks in by the time you were sat side by side, filling the near empty saloon with laughter.

“and- and then what?” his smile was sickeningly wide.

“well, my mama always told me i should never let a man use me as a doormat, so i grabbed my saddlebag an’ swatted him right in the groin!”

billy chuckled lightly, imagining that scenario before taking another sip of his whiskey.

“serves ‘m right, the men here know less a’ how to treat women than they do knowin’ when’s appropriate to draw a gun.” he huffed out.

you set your elbow on the counter, resting your head on your hand. “i bet your mama’s real proud a’ you, billy. she raised you just as anyone should.”

he held his smile for just a second before moving to look down at his glass. he remained silent for a few moments, and you followed suit, understanding why.

“m’ sorry, i didn’t know-“

“no, it’s alright,” he looked up at you, offering a smile once again. “i hope that she is. i’m always just trying my best to do what’s right- what’s just. sometimes the law doesn’t wanna paint it that way, but i know what i’ve seen and done.”

and you trusted his word. you had let your guard down like this for the first time possibly ever with anyone who wasn’t family. you and this raggedy stray were both different birds, flying far from the flock. having his company was something new, something exciting. and you hungered to know more.

[andorology]

Sanguinity: Chapter 3 a rebelcaptain regency au

“But I would venture to say,” Bodhi added, “that there are times we cannot choose the people who will become part of our lives; one day they just enter and stay there—providence itself decides for us.”

“Well then,” Jyn said, “let us hope that in doing so, it is due to its benevolence, and that the people it chooses to grace us with will enrich the village.” She then briefly thought of the Andors, and found herself scouring the crowd, hoping to spot the sister. As for the brother, she did not know exactly what to look out for yet.

____

Everyone attends the Rook ball. Jyn hosts, seizes her prospects, and finally meets Cassian for the first time. Sparks fly.

Read Chapter 3 of Sanguinity below the cut, or check it out on ao3! Rating T.

The days passed by so gently, as though time floated along the easy winds of the spring. Friday came upon Endor Village like the quiet dawn, and before everyone knew it, the Rook ball, the first event of the season, finally commenced. 

Just as the last drop of daylight faded from the sky, Mabayar Hall received its first carriage, which transported the visiting Donwells—Sir Donwell, his wife Mrs. Donwell, and their ward, James Donwell. Soon the hundred other people that had been invited to attend followed, which included, among a few other persons of importance, the Ersos, Philip Krennic (without his father, who had to be away on an important meeting), and to the curiosity of everyone present, the Andors.

About an hour into the merriment, Jyn had been quickly pulled aside, for Bodhi’s particular want of her counsel on the matter of the chandelier. 

“I do not see what you have been worrying about, Mr. Rook,” said Jyn as they both stood by the corner of the ballroom, straining their necks to look at the fixture overhead. Streams of wax had already trickled down from the candles, their warm light softly fractured by the crystals. “I think it’s just right—neither ostentatious nor gauche.” 

“As long as you are sure,” Mr. Rook said. “I thought the same myself, but I do not want to stir conversation about its being too much or too little.”

Jyn looked at her friend, her expression mirthful. “For a gentleman whose reputation has already been established, you certainly still do worry about what others regard of you.”

Bodhi, chuckling, replied, “I know you are above forsaking me, Miss Erso, if I threw the worst party in the world, but I am not sure the others will be as tolerant of such failings.”

“If that is the case,” replied Jyn, “which I highly doubt it would be, then the only failing on your part would be consorting with the wrong company. Sensible friends would know that there are much worse blunders than a dowdy chandelier to reserve such sentiments for. Perhaps it is simply a matter of choosing the people with whom we are to be.”

“And I have,” Bodhi agreed. “For you are my dear friend.”

Jyn smiled.  

“But I would venture to say,” Bodhi added, “that there are times we cannot choose the people who will become part of our lives; one day they just enter and stay there—providence itself decides for us.”

“Well then,” Jyn said, “let us hope that in doing so, it is due to its benevolence, and that the people it chooses to grace us with will enrich the village.” She then briefly thought of the Andors, and found herself scouring the crowd, hoping to spot the sister. As for the brother, she did not know exactly what to look out for yet. 

“But I believe it has not renounced us thus far,” she finally continued after her failed attempt, “for our village is made up of do-good sorts of people, and I hope that whoever will enter it now will be the same. Which is why I beseech you, good friend, not to distress yourself.”

“You are right.” Bodhi nodded. “I do not believe anybody in this town has done or will do anybody anything in ill will, and over a trivial matter, no less.”

“I believe not, indeed.” 

Just then, a man from across the room came into their view, with a light head of hair and an easy, airy strut.

Bodhi leaned in closer to Jyn to try and direct her gaze. “Look, it is Philip.” 

Jyn, suddenly feeling alert, scrambled to spot the man in question from the crowd. “Oh.”

Bodhi then waved his hand in the air to capture the gentleman’s attention. “Mr. Krennic!”

The man’s face instantly lit up into a lopsided smile the moment he took notice of them. Jyn watched him, the object of her rather bizarre feelings for the last couple of weeks, pace towards their direction in big, perky strides. 

“Miss Erso!” he called out. “Mr. Rook!” 

When he stopped just before her, he gave her a curt nod, which Jyn cordially returned. 

“Mr. Krennic,” she greeted. “I hope you are having a good time this evening.”

Philip grinned. “I am, now that I’ve finally spotted you two tonight.”

“What do you mean?” Bodhi asked, suddenly anxious. “Have you not been enjoying the ball?”

Philip laughed. “Oh, not because you have hosted a terrible one, no. I cannot imagine ever offending you and Miss Erso on that point! No, I have just been dealing with an important matter with Sir Donwell.” 

This roused Jyn’s curiosity, for she very much liked Sir Donwell. “I hope he is all right?” she inquired. “And Mr. and Mrs. Donwell, too.” 

“Oh, yes, quite all right,” Philip easily assured her. “They are as healthy as ever. They are playing cards in the waiting room, James with them. No, we have only been discussing certain matters—” here he stopped himself “—but forgive me, I need not trouble you with the dull specifics, as I imagine you two have this party to preoccupy yourselves with at the moment.”

“Speaking of,” Bodhi said gravely, his eyes directed towards a footman who fast approached them, a somewhat panicked look on his face.

“A matter in the kitchen, sir,” he said before Bodhi pulled him in for barely audible whispers. Just then, he requested to excuse himself from Jyn and Philip, effectively leaving them both alone together as he followed his footman outside the hall, and towards the kitchen downstairs.

The gentleman Jyn was now left with then beheld her with a beamed up expression. Jyn tried to pay it back with her own polite smile. 

“So, Miss Erso,” he said, “you look like you could use a refreshment. Might I get you some?” 

To this Jyn had no objection; she was beyond parched. Together, they snaked through the crowd until they reached the table topped with all sorts of confections and liquor. 

Philip ladled some punch into a cup and handed it to Jyn. “I must say,” he said as he now arranged his own drink, “I am glad to have finally run into you, Miss Erso. I have been meaning to call on Vallt Park, but as I’ve been busy, I haven’t been able to.”

Jyn swallowed before responding. “Ah—it is no problem. I am sure Mama and Papa will be glad to receive you there should you find the time again.” 

This seemed to delight the gentleman. “You shall see me soon, then.” 

To this, Jyn only responded with an affirming nod.

Philip took a sip of his drink. “So tell me, have you been studying still?” 

This finally sparked Jyn’s genuine interest. “Oh, yes, actually. I’ve been reading up on Southern English flora.”

Philip’s eyes lit up. Enthused, he remarked, “That sounds incredibly fascinating, Miss Erso.”

Jyn felt a small smile break across her face, realizing that the subject being brought up was helping ease her nerves. Infused with more confident energy, she said, “It really is. Though, when I went to the shop the other day, I found that there were no pamphlets on the subject at all.”

Philip’s eyes narrowed. “Oh?”

“Well, there are books, yes, but I do not imagine them to be as accessible, for they are either too thick or too advanced. A pamphlet, in my opinion, makes it easier for anyone to be more interested in botany, for it divulges information in tidbits. You can choose one that simply interests you, and from there you can begin to nurse a deeper enthusiasm for your preferred niche. I thought it a shame, really, when I discovered it.”

Philip nodded thoughtfully as he seemed to ponder on this. “I see. Yes, that is truly a shame. I myself have learned a thing or two from pamphlets, and so concur with you there.”

“More people ought to write such publications,” continued Jyn, “for I imagine, if written well, they would attract a good number of readers. I know for certain it would attract me.”

“They really ought to, yes.” Then, quite passionately Philip added, “It is regrettable to know that our great botanists have not yet found the sense you have long already had, Miss Erso. I am of hope that one day you shall finally find the pamphlet you seek—on every shelf, in every shop and library, and in all of England.” 

Jyn watched him curiously, not at all insensible to the warm, if not fervent approbation he had given to her opinions. 

“I must say,” she remarked, “I appreciate that you not only see my point, but also acquiesce to it, Mr. Krennic.” 

Philip chuckled, swirling his drink. “I do not think there will ever be a time where I would not, if I’m being honest.”

Jyn knitted her brows. “Do you mean to say that you do not intend to ever disagree with me?”

After giving it some thought, Philip shook his head, his mouth down to a pout. “No. I do not find myself doing it.” 

“Forgive me, Mr. Krennic, but that is absurd.” Jyn let out a sharp chuckle, characteristic of both incredulity and amusement. “What if I had been wrong? What if I had said there ought to be more pamphlets on the various methods of killing wildlife instead? Would you still take this opinion for yourself, merely because I had said it?” 

“Well,” Philip explained, “if you did so to the best of your judgment, then you would be right, I still probably would.”

Jyn laughed in disbelief. “What if nothing else could have informed it but my lunacy?” 

Philip smiled. “But you are not lunatic, Miss Erso. Nor did you say those things.”

Jyn beheld Philip in quiet amazement. She shook her head. “You esteem my opinion too much, Mr. Krennic. I hope you do not mind my saying so, but I sometimes think you’re too agreeable. Too agreeable for anyone’s good, in fact.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Philip enthralled.  

Jyn smiled. “Had I not known you for a while, I would totally suspect it.”

To this Philip did not reply, only laughed.

“Well,” Jyn posed, “must I, Mr. Krennic?” 

Smiling, Philip said, “Forgive me. I do not mean to come off as sycophantic. If I seem like it, well, that is only because I regard your opinion with utmost value. You have, on several occasions, shared your wisdom which has hardly failed you. Not to mention, too, that you have always had a delightful disposition, which makes it difficult for anybody to disagree with.”

“But I do not mind disagreement,” insisted Jyn. “In fact, I prefer it, for I believe there is a fundamental difference in being correct because someone told me I was, and being correct because I was able to prove that I was. I find the latter to be more fulfilling, and above all more purposeful to the pursuit of knowledge.”

Philip grinned. “I suppose I’ll just have to agree to disagree.” 

At this, Jyn could not help but muse again. But before she could say anything in return, a voice from somewhere behind her suddenly exclaimed:

“Miss Erso!”

Jyn spun around and saw there, filing through the crowd, the petite figure of her recent acquaintance, Kerri Andor. Behind her she pulled by the forearm a man of middling height and a dark head of hair. The black coat and matching waistcoat beneath that he wore made him stand out from the crowd—Jyn could only but stare. 

From the distance she vaguely saw his features to be similar with Kerri’s. That was when she instantly surmised that he must be her brother. 

Cassian Andor.

“Are those the Andors?” asked Philip, straining his eyes to spot them in the crowd.

“It would seem so,” replied Jyn, suddenly nervous. 

Soon Kerri and her companion stopped to meet Jyn. “Miss Erso, I finally found you tonight!”

Jyn smiled and gave her acquaintance a bow. “Good evening, Miss Andor. I’m glad you made it.” 

“I made it a point to, of course. I am immensely enjoying myself; you host quite a party! Nothing like the perfect opportunity for us to induct ourselves to the village.” 

Jyn’s eyes then flitted to the man behind her, noting the blank yet vaguely curious expression on his face. Though she privately remarked that she had seen stone statue faces more animated than this, she also thought, even more privately, that the features that made it were not so unpleasant to behold. 

For a brief moment their eyes met, at which she quickly looked away. 

“Some introductions are in order,” said Kerri. Addressing Jyn she said, “Miss Erso, I’d like to finally introduce you to my brother, Cassian. Brother, meet Jyn Erso—” then when she realized that Jyn also had a companion herself “—and er…”

“Philip,” quickly intercepted Philip, a gleeful expression on his face. “Philip Krennic. I am a long-time friend of Miss Erso’s.”

Jyn curtsied, addressing Cassian. “Mr. Andor. Nice to finally meet you. Welcome to Endor Village.” 

Cassian, a vague scowl now forming on his face, stiffly returned the greeting, and with significantly less gallantry. “Miss Erso.”

Jyn frowned.

Philip took a step forward. “It is great to finally meet you Miss Andor, Mr. Andor.” He offered Kerri a smile, and reached out a hand to Cassian. 

Cassian just stared at the hand being extended to him, with seemingly no intent to take it. It took Kerri to lightly nudge his arm with her elbow for him to finally take it, though with a most visible reluctance, which, to Jyn, was just as bad as not receiving the handshake at all. 

She found it odd, if not impolite.

“So,” Kerri said, her eyes narrowed in thought. “Mr. Krennic. Your name sounds familiar.”

“Hmm, you might have heard of my father,” replied Philip, “or my grandfather, for that matter. If you are involved in the affairs of shipbuilding, then it is likely. We invest in the trade, you see.” 

“Ah, that must be it,” said Kerri, not quite convinced, but nodding. “My brother here briefly had some solicitor work done in that arena.”

“Did he now?” asked Philip, interested.

Kerri stared at her brother, expectant. Upon observing his general snobbish disposition, it was apparent to Jyn that Cassian had no desire to indulge the question, but when he registered his sister’s application, he finally said in a very clipped tone, “Yes, I did.”

Jyn—and Philip too, it seemed—expected him to supply the statement further, but a few seconds passed, and no such elaboration came. 

Jyn was beginning to find no excuse for such impropriety. 

To this, all Philip could say was, “Ah. Well, I suppose there’s no point in discussing such droll matters on an occasion such as this, am I right, Mr. Andor?” He laughed, then turned to Kerri. “So, Miss Andor, have you danced tonight yet?” 

At that, Cassian’s frown seemed to deepen. 

Kerri, however, remained oblivious to this. “I have not yet, actually,” she answered. “We’ve just arrived.”

“Well then,” said Philip, “I hope you allow me to be the first to receive the honor. My friend Miss Erso is already quite tired to even dance once—” he glanced at Jyn with a charmed smile “—so I entreat you, Miss Andor.” 

He extended his hand. Where the brother had received such a gesture with total repugnance, his sister, on the other hand, took it with a light, easy grace. She glanced at her brother, and Jyn could tell by the intensity of their locked gazes that they were amounting to an unspoken disagreement. 

Kerri would come out the winner, for ultimately, Cassian broke his gaze away first, and his sister, half-smiling, joined Philip to the dance floor triumphant. 

As they commenced their uptempo waltz, Jyn suddenly became too aware that she now stood alone with the brother, and it would seem that neither she nor he were willing to break the air of awkward silence that hung about them. 

They stood side by side, facing the ballroom floor. Jyn tried to glimpse a side-eye glance at him (who she realized considerably towered over her) only to find that he was also trying to do the same. Immediately he shifted his gaze towards his sister on the dance floor, a quiet indignance constant upon his countenance. 

Too intrigued to ignore such behavior, Jyn finally spoke. “Are you not enjoying the party, Mr. Andor?”

To which, Cassian replied in a dismissive tone, “I had much rather be back at the house than be here.”

“You are liking Lah’mu Hall, then,” muttered Jyn bitterly under her breath.

Cassian did not respond.

She cleared her throat. “So, how has settling in been?”

The solicitor still did not respond. A few moments of silence passed without either one or the other speaking. 

Jyn now took full offense for this impoliteness. “It’s true what has been said about you, Mr. Andor," she said pointedly. "You really are frugal in conversation.”

This finally elicited some type of reaction; Cassian turned his neck to face her.

“You might as well have been absent during our acquaintance,” Jyn continued, “for you did not much talk at all.” 

After a few moments of him just staring at her, he finally spoke. “Well, Miss Erso, that usually happens when I find myself with company that does not warrant it.” 

Jyn’s eyes widened, her mouth hanging open. “Excuse me?”

Cassian turned his face away and again returned to his silences. 

Jyn could feel her blood begin to boil. “My, Mr. Andor,” she said in a tone of mockery, “have I not been interesting for you—not even enough to earn your basest civilities? Well then, forgive me for my insufficiency in meeting your expectations, so early into our introduction, no less.” She shifted her feet so she faced him. “Do enlighten me. When I had greeted you earlier, should I have already inquired into discussions of the suffering British economy, or the current uprisings and massacres following the calls for reform, or perhaps the long-standing question of parliamentary suffrage—not only for men, mind you, but for women, too?” 

Cassian looked at her again, during which he seemed to be now carefully and intently observing the features of her countenance. He remained unflinching, however, in his indifference. 

“Because I would have, Mr. Andor,” Jyn continued smugly, “but I had a feeling I should not have with you. And I was right.”

They then both found themselves in a staredown, with Jyn noticing, despite her budding abhorrence, the deep brown of Cassian’s eyes. 

The look on his face began to change; his mouth slowly broke into a small, dry smile. 

“Do I amuse you?” demanded Jyn.

Ignoring this question, Cassian said, rather sharply, “So, it’s true what has been said about you, Miss Erso.”

“What?”

“You have been given liberties much more than is due yourself.”

Jyn glowered. “For a man who so terribly wants to be interesting, that is a rather blasé predilection. I ought not to be given liberties? Why, because I am a lady?”

“Because it haphazardly bloats your self-importance,” answered Cassian. “And it is begging to make itself known to everybody.”

Jyn laughed dryly, so audibly that it captured the attention of a gentleman within her vicinity. “Now I’m unworthy of your conversation and self-important. Come on, Mr. Andor. You can try to be more unsubtle in showing your displeasure.”

“I am not displeased.”

“Oh I had much rather you were, if I’m being honest. I would hate to think this is your natural state.”

“What would that be?”

“Perpetually unpleasant.”

Cassian smiled coldly. “That does not offend me, for I do not imagine anybody pleases you much.”

“So says the man who has not shown a single sign of delight upon our introduction.”

Now Cassian motioned himself so that he now faced her. “Why?” he asked. “Have you just not, before even meeting me, already had presuppositions about my character? Why should I be glad to meet someone who already has prejudices against me? You’ve just admitted to having them.”

Jyn scoffed. “Not that I have to clarify my position to you, Mr. Andor, but I had actually hoped to make a pleasant acquaintance with you tonight, as your sister and my father have attested to your good character. And yet as I face you now, I admit I am lost, for I do not see a single modicum of pleasantness in you. You accuse me of prejudice, and yet you do nothing now to prove it wrong. You cannot hope to absolve yourself of my opinion if you are so solidly fixing it to me as fact.”

That was when Cassian stepped closer, bridging the considerable gap between them much shorter. Gravely, he said, “I do not believe I have to prove myself to you.”

“Clearly, you do not.” Jyn laughed. “But it humors me so that I seem to have so severely irked you—and without my even doing anything. What could I have possibly done to warrant myself a treatment of such boorish manner, Mr. Andor? Or are you just so dreadful that you make it a point to be mean because you can be?” 

Cassian scoffed, which made Jyn roll her eyes. 

“Is that all you can do?” she challenged. “Grunt and mumble and brood?”

Cassian slowly shook his head. “Clearly you are so caught up in your own head, so lost in your own perfect little world that you fail to see the answer to your question as it stands, plain as the day.” 

“What?” Total bewilderment overtook Jyn’s countenance, for she had absolutely no idea what he meant. 

She could hardly believe it. What an incredibly obnoxious man! What a truly ill-natured being for the new owner of her childhood home, and above all, her new very close neighbor! It quickly occurred to her that his arrival, as it turned out, did not signify a pleasant addition to the village; it only signified that he would plague it with his total lowliness.  

“You truly surprise me, Mr. Andor,” she snarled. “I did not know anyone could be so unlikeable as you. And yet, as it stands, I suppose I find endless repose in the revelation that I had been right about you all along.”  

Cassian let out a sharp gust of air through his nose. “Does that make you feel better about yourself? Being right?”

Jyn shrugged, and erected herself to a proud stance. “It very much does.” 

Just then, the waltz had finished, and Jyn saw Kerri walking back with Philip, a smile on both their faces as they laughed about something funny. Briefly they joined Jyn and Cassian, and they became a party of four again. 

“That was splendid,” Kerri beamed, addressing her brother.

Philip, in observing Jyn’s grim expression, asked, “Is something the matter, Miss Erso?” 

Jyn, who had been looking at Cassian the entire time, finally broke her gaze to address Philip. “No, Mr. Krennic. Not quite.” 

“We must leave, Kerri,” suddenly spoke Cassian, meeting his sister’s eyes.

“But I would like to talk some more with Miss Erso,” Kerri said. 

Cassian seemed ready with a reason against their staying, but Jyn, unwilling to give him the satisfaction, went on ahead and said, “I’m afraid I have to attend to something myself, Miss Andor. I am required there now, as a matter of fact. I only waited for you to finish to properly excuse myself.”

Kerri looked disappointed. “All right,” she said, uncertain. “Well, I at least hope to find you again tonight, if you would please. I have much I would like to talk about with you, Miss Erso.”

Jyn tried her best to nod and smile reassuringly. “I hope so too.” 

She gave Cassian one last look before she finally gave everyone a parting bow, turned on her heel, and walked away.

For some time after that, Jyn tried to spend a good few minutes on casual conversation with guests, but her irritation had gotten the best of her that she did not understand a single word they had said. 

So she made the decision to head down to the kitchen instead. But before she could even reach the stairs, Bodhi had already found his way up and was on his way back to the party. 

He met her in the hallway. “You look irritated,” he observed with concern. “Did something happen while I was gone?”

Jyn, her fists balled so tightly her fingernails could rip through her glove and pierce her palms, replied, “I met Mr. Andor.”

Bodhi’s face turned cautious. “And…was he not to your liking?” 

“More like I am not to his liking, Mr. Rook, which I suppose, yes, makes him not to my liking.” She took a deep breath through her nose. “He is beyond improper, and not to mention hopelessly self-important!” 

“What?” Bodhi replied, incredulous. “That is impossible. I wouldn’t have recommended him to Mr. Erso if he was. I mean, did he not like him, too?” 

Jyn threw her arms in the air and let them fall back down against her thighs. “Well then, it would seem that he made a special, particular exception for me to this boundless agreeableness you speak of. I find it hard to believe that we talk of the same person. I am telling you, I have never met someone so unpleasant!”

Bodhi watched as Jyn paced back and forth in an attempt to dispel her anger. He had never seen his friend in such a state of distress over anybody before. “Miss Erso, you seem really agitated by him.”

“He is, without a doubt, the worst person I have ever met in my entire life,” she proclaimed with conviction. “I do not care if we are neighbors; I should hope to never see him again. For if I do, I shall hate him forever. And that is a promise, Mr. Rook.”

Jyn would soon remember, of course, that she would soon see Cassian again, when he would finally fulfill his commitment to calling on the Ersos at Vallt Park a few days from now.

[wizardraziw]

Hello, students!

It has been some time hasn't it? Well, I come to you to a small lesson. Today we will be learning about innate magic. You may find that your magic differs from others, even if you are in the same classes and magic group. Well, here could be an explanation as to why...

If you are born...

On a Monday:

Mondays are the tough beginnings. You are born stronger and more resilient than others. You may find that your body is more durable to your magic, and you can recover faster than others from fatigue and can be back in the battle within hours.

On a Tuesday:

Tuesdays are an insightful day to peer into the rest of the week. You are born more perceptive than others. You may find that your mind is naturally perceptive to magic. You can vaguely sense magic types from other users, but it gets a bit confusing with multiple mages in an area.

On a Wednesday:

Wednesdays are the the quietest day of the week. They are in the background and often forgotten. You are born more cloaked than others. You can blend in the background and hide your aura from others naturally. You may find yourself being more observant, seeing things that others may not whilst under the cover of secrecy.

On a Thursday:

Thursdays are the days of promise and hopefulness. They are sanguine and opportunistic. Your magic is a bit more wild than others, but it can lead to promising situations with unexpected power. Your body is more adaptive to controlling your wild magic.

On a Friday:

Fridays are the days of relief. They feel revitalizing. Your magic is naturally explosive and powerful in short bursts. Your body is more capable of storing up magic energy to release all at once in a powerful blast. It may take time to charge up, but if timed correctly it can be very useful.

On a Saturday:

Saturday are the days of tranquility. Your magic is naturally fluid and talented. You have a better grasp over your magic and can find ease with understanding other magic types. When using a magic item, your magic is more concentrated and skillful than others. You also may find that outside magic is naturally drawn to you like a beacon, good or bad.

On a Sunday:

Sundays are the days of persistence and preparedness. Your magic sometimes has a mind of its own, making it harder for others to surprise you. Your magic may do things subconsciously, doing tasks for you before you think to do them. It is useful, but unpredictable.

Well, this concludes today's lesson! Good luck students. And um...the magic infirmary is on the second floor if you need it...haha...

[stab-me-mommy]

we all need a yandere dommy mommy sometimes, don't we?

i'm nosferatu. 21, any pronouns. and i really fucking like yanderes.

this means that on this blog, you get to see your favorite characters as a yandere. well, my favorite character, but that's just details.

i write yandere stuff on my other blogs, so i'll just list off fandoms i don't have blogs for.

slashers:

Jason Voorhees (Friday 13th series)

Pamela Voorhees (Friday 13th series)

Freddy Krueger (Nightmare on Elm Street series)

Tiffany Valentine (Child's Play series)

Charles Lee Ray (Child's Play series)

Billy Loomis (Scream)

Stu Macher (Scream)

Pearl (Pearl movie)

Hannibal Lecter (Silence of the Lambs; book/sir Anthony Hopkins version)

Bubba Sawyer (Texas Chainsaw Massacre movies and game)

Drayton Sawyer (Texas Chainsaw Massacre movies and game)

Nubbins Sawyer (Texas Chainsaw Massacre movies and game)

Chop-Top/Robert Sawyer (Texas Chainsaw Massacre movies)

Sissy Sawyer (Texas Chainsaw Massacre game)

Johnny Slaughter (Texas Chainsaw Massacre game)

Ji-woon Hak/The Trickster (Dead by Daylight)

Jason the Toymaker (Creepypasta)

Laughing Jack (Creepypasta)

games:

Karl Heisenberg (Resident Evil: Village)

Allied Mastercomputer (I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream - game version)

Narrator (The Stanley Parable)

Fate (Death and Taxes)

Bigby Wolf (The Wolf Among Us)

Bluebeard (The Wolf Among Us)

Tanner Grayton (Scrutinized)

Ascended Astarion (Baldur's Gate 3)

Cazador Szarr (Baldur's Gate 3)

Raphael (Baldur's Gate 3)

Haarlep (Baldur's Gate 3)

Genji Shimada (Overwatch/Overwatch 2)

Reaper/Gabriel Reyes (Overwatch/Overwatch 2)

Alduin (The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim)

Molag Bal (The Elder Scrolls series)

Mehrunes Dagon (The Elder Scrolls series)

Hermaeus Mora (The Elder Scrolls series)

Hircine (The Elder Scrolls series)

Sanguine (The Elder Scrolls series)

V/Jihyun Kim (Mystic Messenger)

Jumin Han (Mystic Messenger)

707/Saeyoung Kim/Luciel Kim (Mystic Messenger)

Unknown/Ray/Saeran Kim (Mystic Messenger)

Two-Face/Harvey Dent (Batman: Arkham Series)

Il Dottore (Genshin Impact)

anime/manga:

Shuu Tsukiyama (Tokyo Ghoul)

Dio Brando/DIO (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Phantom Blood and Stardust Crusaders)

Kars (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Battle Tendency)

Light Yagami (Death Note)

L Lawliet (Death Note)

Misa Amane (Death Note)

M/Mihael Keehl (Death Note)

Yato (Noragami)

Asura Kishin (Soul Eater)

Arachne Gorgon (Soul Eater)

Medusa Gorgon (Soul Eater)

Giriko (Soul Eater)

Justin Law (Soul Eater - manga version)

Noah - Greed (Soul Eater)

Noah - Wrath (Soul Eater)

Franken Stein (Soul Eater)

Elf (NANBAKA - version)

animated series/movies/cartoons:

Seraphim (Blood of Zeus)

Zeus (Blood of Zeus)

Hera (Blood of Zeus)

Apollo (Blood of Zeus)

Hades (Justice League Animated)

Asmodeus (Helluva Boss)

Mammon (Helluva Boss)

Valentino (Hazbin Hotel)

Vox (Hazbin Hotel)

Adam (Hazbin Hotel)

Bill Cipher (Gravity Falls)

live series/movies:

Merle Dixon (The Walking Dead)

Daryl Dixon (The Walking Dead, early seasons)

Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer)

Edward Scissorhands (Edward Scissorhands)

Willy Wonka (Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory)

Jerome Valeska (Gotham)

Jeremiah Valeska (Gotham)

Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane (Gotham)

The Mad Hatter/Jervis Tetch (Gotham)

Penguin/Oswald Cobblepot (Gotham)

The Riddler/Edward Nygma (Gotham)

Victor Zsasz (Gotham)

Barbara Kean (Gotham)

Loki Laufeyson (Avengers 2012)

comics:

The Batman Who Laughs/Bruce Wayne (general concept)

The Grim Knight/Bruce Wayne (general concept)

Batman/Bruce Wayne (general concept)

Owlman/Thomas Wayne Jr. (general concept)

The Joker (general concept)

Harley Quinn/Harleen Quinzel (general concept)

The Hulk/Bruce Banner (general concept)

Superman/Clark Kent (general concept)

Ironman/Tony Stark (general concept)

Deathstroke/Slade Wilson (general concept)

the list most likely will get updated.

[kairologia]

Planets in Hellenistic Astrology — Part 2 : the personal & social planets.

Mercury ☿

Mercury represents the exchange and transfer of all things, which includes :

— communication and transferring one’s thoughts to others through speaking or writing.

— mental processes

— money & trade

— traveling

— intelligence

— sleight of hand

— psychopomp

— thievery

↳ trivia :

— Domicile: Gemini, Virgo

— Exaltation: Virgo

— Detriment: Sagittarius, Pisces

— Fall: Pisces

— Mercury is never more than one sign away from the sun (previous and next). For example, an Aries sun person can only have Mercury in Aries, Pisces or Taurus.

— Quality: Cold and Dry (Melancholic).

— Neutral disposition, i.e. neither feminine nor masculine.

— Slightly Diurnal.

— Colors: patterns, multicolour, mixed colors, shades of gray.

— Places: Markets, shops, money-related places, schools.

— Day of the Week: Wednesday.

— Professions: messengers, agents, dealers, astrologers, clerks, accountants, scribes, media, physicians, researchers, scientists, lawyers, orators, musicians, bankers.

— Body Parts: Tongue, brain, arms, hands, fingers, auditory system, shoulders.

— Animals: small or clever animals, animals capable of “speech” (such as parrots).

— Minerals & Stones: Copper, brass, quicksilver.

Venus ♀

Venus represents relationships and social connections of all kinds, not just romantic. She also lords over the arts, beauty, harmony, peace, pleasure, diplomacy, fashion, hygiene & desire.

↳ trivia :

— Domicile: Taurus, Libra

— Exaltation: Pisces

— Detriment: Aries, Scorpio

— Fall: Virgo

— How her nature was perceived varied based on whether she appeared as Morning Star Venus (Phosphorus) or as the Evening Star (Hesperus).

— Quality : Cold and Moist (phlegmatic).

— Nocturnal.

— Feminine.

— Places: places that gives pleasure and entertainment, places depicting arts, fashion halls, gardens.

— Day of the Week: Friday.

— Body Parts: Kidney, smell, neck, hips, genitals.

— Colors: White, Green, Pink, Red.

— Professions: Musicians, artists, players, jewellers, actors, designers, perfumers, inventors, diplomats, cosmetologists.

— Minerals & stones: Copper & Emerald

— Animals: doves, soft & cuddly animals, swans

Mars ♂

Mars is a malefic, and thus represents things that are not pleasant, but usually necessary such as cutting, burning, (literal and metaphorical) severing. It also encompasses anger, aggression, the assertion of will, fire, danger, combat, war, violence, & power.

↳ trivia :

— Domicile: Aries, Scorpio

— Exaltation: Capricorn

— Detriment: Taurus, Libra

— Fall: Cancer

— Quality : Dry and Hot (choleric).

— Nocturnal.

— Masculine.

— Places: smithies, furnaces, slaughterhouses, sources of fire/burning, places of combat, hospitals, places related to the military.

— Colors: Red, vermillion, fiery colors.

— Parts: Head, gallbladder, genitals.

— Professions: professions that involve fire, butchers, conquerors, military professions, blacksmiths, surgeons, physicians, medical workers, chemists, pharmacists & herbalists.

— Day of the Week: Tuesday

— Minerals & stones: iron, sulfur, heliotrope

— Animals: dogs, foxes, canines, panther, tigers, animals that bite or sting

Jupiter ♃

Among its general significations we can list: dignity, abundance, knowledge, justice, high mindedness, expansion, generosity, prosperity, good fortune, and miracles. Jupiter also governs religion & long distance travel (as opposed to Moon & Mercury which rule over short-distance travel).

↳ trivia :

— Domicile: Sagittarius, Pisces

— Exaltation: Cancer

— Detriment: Gemini, Virgo

— Fall: Capricorn

— Quality : Warm and Moist (sanguine).

— Diurnal.

— Masculine.

— Colors: Blue, blue-greens, purple, light gray.

— Profession: Judges, professions relating to government, profession relating to religion (i.e. priests), lawyers, professors, teachers, gurus.

— Places: courts, colleges & universities, observatories, religious sites & places of prayer, altars, places that gathers large group of people.

— Day of the Week: Thursday.

— Minerals & Stones: sapphire, citrine, amethyst.

— Body Parts: Thighs, feet, liver, blood, semen.

— Animals: stag, ox, bees, eagle, dolphin, whale, sheep, deer.

Saturn ♄

Saturn embodies a sense of restriction, solitude, decay, and the passage of time. It brings with it a mix of constructive (or not) challenges and somber reflections. It's a planet that evokes emotions of sorrow, misery, and grief, and is thus often associated with death. Symbolically linked to the land and the elderly, it represents things that are enduring and long-lasting. It's also associated with locks, suggesting a sense of confinement or constraint.

↳ trivia :

— Domicile: Capricorn, Aquarius

— Exaltation: Libra

— Detriment: Cancer, Leo

— Fall: Aries

— Quality: Cold and Dry (melancholic).

— Diurnal.

— Colors: dark colors, shades of brown, nudes.

— Profession: farmers, laborers, miners, professions of construction, professions related to the dead.

— Places: deserts, prisons, ruins, graveyards, fields, abandoned places, mines, anything underground,

— Day of the Week: Saturday

— Body Parts: Bones, teeth, skin, joints

— Animals: Cats, scavengers, adders, asps, serpents, and cockatrices

— Minerals & stones: metal, lead, lapis lazuli.

PART 1 : sun/moon/rising.

[emmatriarchy]

Werewolf By Night - Red Band (2024) #1 | Sentence starter

Adapt pronouns and settings as needed.

"My friends reported seeing creepy stuff at this site, so let's go check it out for ourselves." "My buddy heard loud howling noises before a hairy dude chased him out." "If my suspicions are correct, this might be the same werewolf who teamed up with Captain America when he turned into a wolf." "Maybe we'll encounter a good werewolf." "Someone's made a home here." "I'm just making a friendly visit… you got a nice place." "Get out of my house." "I yearn to leave it all behind and forge myself a new life." "I've collected too many dark moments of betrayal, loss and heartbreak for my age… I just want some fucking tranquility." "If I have to let out the infernal beast to do the cleanup, so be it." "Just preparing for Friday's poetry slam at the rec center." "Should we be expecting another dark, brooding sonnet?" "I write what I know, but I promise I'll reach my sanguine phase one day." "You'll be happy to know I cleared some new hiking paths." "Just remember the curfew." "This doesn't look like your average overcast." "What the heck's goin' on?" "We'll try to figure this out when we reach town." "Daylight returned as usual… yet I still can't recall what I've done these past nights." "I wake up feeling the most severe hangover." "I feel my world crumbling around me." "This secret club has seen better days." "I can tell you're in desperate need of new leadership to guide you back to your roots." "I feed off pain and death. And you have made me hungry." "Is it true that the laughter in hell is for you?" "Never thought I'd visit this place again." "I'm bummed you didn't send me a party invite." "I can hear you breathing heavily in there." "You've been a busy wolf. And not in the nicest way." "There's a trail of maulings that led me right here." "I know this isn't like you. So I'm giving you the opportunity to explain yourself." "How do you expect to let yourself out?" "Leave me be. My curse will die here with me." "You're being too dramatic." "This isn't the first time you've been in this kind of mess." "Darkness and tragedy will always follow me." "I know my own claw marks and fang impressions… but the scent, it was off." "We don't know for certain it was you." "They'll soon find out I'm a Dangerous beast." "I know you well enough to believe there is someone or something else that is responsible for these murders." "Let's get you out of these chains." "My, how you have grown." "It's me… Remember? We were a thing?" "If he were any other monster, he would be dead by now. But this is an intervention for a monster friend." "He's gone berserk. Doesn't recognize me as friend, only as food." "I know hundreds of ways to slay a monster." "You're out of luck." "I expected as much." "If you're not holding back, why should I?" "I promise this will only hurt." "I deserve your fury, every bit of it."

[ogyscrypt]

Crypt Introduction!

Welcome to OGY’s Crypt! 

This blog is a fan blog run by two of the mods from OGY’s Discord server (you should check it out—it’s the most wholesome group of degenerates you will ever meet) with his permission. OGY himself is not running this page.

So why are we running it?

In short, we think OGY’s work is awesome and want to share it with you. 

His catalog ranges from the neediest whimpers all the way through the most feral growls. You can expect to find familiar BG3 characters, werewolves, demons, office romance, soft boyfriends, ruthless doms, dreamy dilfs, and many vampires.

However, while the spice is, in our opinion, phenomenal, what sets OGY’s work apart from others in the same genre is the sheer amount of personality he injects into each of his pieces. If you are someone who unironically loves the Porn with Plot tag on AO3, OGY’s work is probably going to be right up your alley.

So please, join us.

We will post an audio daily for the foreseeable future.

Our posting schedule will be as follows:

🦇Monster Monday - Are you a Monster Masher? Treats for the tetrophiles.

🦇Tender Tuesday - A selection of gentle audios for the second worst day of the week.

🦇Whimpering Wednesday - OGY at his most subby - if you want boy moans, this is your day.

🦇Thirsty Thursday - A nice wide variety of some of the more down-and-dirty audios.

🦇Fandom Friday - Mostly BG3, but there are some occasional members of other fandoms too.

🦇Sanguine Saturday - Will you let the right one in? In other words? Vampires, darling.

🦇Sensual Sundays - Finishing the week with mellow, sultry vibes.

All of the audios posted on this blog are ns/fw, created by consenting adults and for consenting adults, and thus, not meant for anyone under 18. 🚫Minors, DNI.🚫

If you have stumbled upon this blog and are under the age of 18, please turn back.

If you are interested in contacting OGY, he can be reached in these places:

Twitter

Reddit

Patreon

Much love,

Goatie and The Dielf

[cinderswrites]

S A N C T U M :: 30 Fics in 30 Days 4510 / 30000 words. 15% done!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･⋆｡ﾟ☁︎

This challenge is something I made based off the 30k November challenge. I plan on writing one short story per day every day of November, and since I know I'll probably blow past the 30k mark, I changed the name.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･⋆｡ﾟ☁︎

"Sanctum" is a story about the one person that makes everything feel okay, regardless of what you feel you are. It's written in 2nd perspective as it involves one of my Sons of Night characters, and those characters are eventually going to be their own interactive/character blog.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･⋆｡ﾟ☁︎

:: WC: 1,254 :: CW: trauma, murder, brief mentions of sexual & domestic abuse, mentions of blood ::

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･⋆｡ﾟ☁︎

The darkness inside Pierce was something he couldn’t quite get a grasp on. It festered, whispered to him when he wasn’t expecting it. Like caresses of black wisps stroking his face, a voice so soft in his ear telling him…

They don’t belong here. Look at them all, throwing themselves on your friends, your brothers.

They’ll ruin them, too.

Like they ruined you.

“No,” he whispered under his breath. He was sitting at the end of the bar in the clubhouse, far in the corner where no one else was around. Nursing a glass of scotch so aged, it was almost like drinking gasoline. “Stop.”

You’ll save them again, right?

Like you always do.

Wring their pretty little necks.

They don’t d e s e r v e to live.

“No, that’s not t-true,” he reached up with a shaky hand, scrubbing it over his face. “I’m not like that anymore. I-I’ve changed.”

Pierce gripped the thick glass in his hand, the amber liquid inside trembling. His heart rate was starting to pick up, the hairs on the back of his neck were prickling almost painfully, and he was trying not to look at the person that was currently pressed up against Jericho. Completely throwing themselves at the president of the Sons.

“How pathetic,” he and the voice whispered together.

He made a disgruntled noise, picking up his glass and downing the rest of the burning drink inside, wrinkling his nose. He set it down on the bar top with a thud and pushed up from his seat. He was about to make his way to where Jericho was when he heard another voice.

“Pietr!”

That soft and beautiful tone of yours.

Like a sweet sanguine lullaby.

His cerulean eyes flicked around and almost panicked until he settled on your face as you walked up to him. “Hey, you’re here,” you said, smiling at him.

A smile that was like a spotlight in a dark room, shooing away the shadows and dark tendrils in his mind. “B-bunny,” he called you that adorable nickname as he always did. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“Yeah, my shift ended early and I know Fridays are kind of busy for the club,” you explained. “I wanted to surprise you. So, surprise!”

You waved your hands a little and it was adorable. Pierce’s normally hard-set expression softened into a smile. “I see,” he murmured.

“Well? Come on, let’s go sit somewhere quiet. I have so much to catch you up on,” you grabbed his hand in yours, and the warmth of it sent a shock wave through his entire being.

He couldn’t help but be pulled along by you as you led him through the common room and the kitchen, out to the back porch. No one was out here right now. Usually the others used it for grilling and hanging out on evenings when there weren’t club parties.

You chose to sit on one of the picnic tables, leaning back against the table part and looking out into the field behind the clubhouse. The light remained off and before you both spread a gorgeous inky indigo sky, dotted with thousands of stars.

It was one of the things Pierce loved about Lone River. It was far enough away from any major cities that light pollution wasn’t a thing. The skies were always beautiful at night.

On this rather warm fall evening, Pierce sat next to you, crossing his arms lazily over his chest. His long legs stretched out in front of him. There was a silence between you two that stretched for a few minutes, before he finally broke it. “What’s your news?” he asked curiously.

Pierce listened as you rambled on about the new things in your life, some big event that happened that you were excited for. He relaxed against the table, his eyes closed as he focused on your words, a soft smile on his face.

A smile only reserved for you.

For you were the only thing in the entire world that made him feel normal. That made him forget what a monster he truly was. Forget the moments in time that he let the rage take over, only to come out of it to blood soaked hands, gasping for air. To see another body beneath him, snuffed out like they were a candle left on for too long.

The blood washed off, but the memories didn’t.

You continued talking until you glanced over and noticed his expression, pausing mid-sentence. “… Pietr?” you called softly.

He jerked like he’d been forced awake, turning his head to look at you with those beautiful blue eyes of his. You always thought he was so damn gorgeous, you were lucky to have his attention at all. If you really knew what he was, you’d probably change that opinion real quick.

“Yes?” he blinked.

“Oh, nothing, really. You almost looked like you were sleeping,” you chuckled, looking away shyly. Sometimes his gaze was so intense when it was focused solely on you like it was now.

“Mm,” he hummed, smiling a little more. “I was just listening to you, bunny. Your voice is relaxing.”

“R-really?”

“It is,” he insisted softly. “It…”

Calms the voices in my head. Soothes my inner monster. Reminds me that I’m human.

“… makes me feel better, I guess,” Pierce finished with that instead.

You looked at him again, studying his face. He looked… tired, almost. But that wasn’t quite the word for it, was it? “Are you doing okay?” you asked, genuine concern in your tone.

He raised his eyebrows, blinking at you again. “I’m…”

Drowning in c r i m s o n when you’re not around. A M O N S T E R, not unlike those in the scary books you like to read.

Pierce sighed, “I’m fine, bunny.”

You weren’t convinced. “Hey, you can… talk to me, you know? It doesn’t always just have to be me rambling here,” you laughed a little nervously, looking at your hands and fidgeting. “I want… I want to be able to be a soundboard for you, too, you know.”

The admission made the feeling in his chest flutter with something warm and sweet. He reached out to you, his fingers ghosting across your brow and brushing your hair from your face. “You help just by being here,” he murmured. “With you around, I feel like I can breathe.”

The vulnerable and soft look on your face as you turned to gaze up at him almost seized his aching heart. “Pietr…” you didn’t know what to say.

Pierce’s knuckles caressed your cheek just so. These little touches, the barely-theres, were the only things he allowed himself to do to you. If he let himself give into temptation with you…

Well, there’s no telling what he might wake up to.

And he couldn’t do that. Not with you! Not when you provided him a sanctuary and reminded him of what he was like before Vanessa, before the assault when he was younger. When he was still ignorant to the horrors of this cruel world.

“Don’t stop talking,” his voice was a strained plea as he withdrew his hand from your face.

You nodded a little and turned your face skyward as you picked up where you left off. Pierce’s heart rate relaxed again, and he allowed himself a moment of mercy to lean against your arm slightly, enough to feel your presence next to him. His eyes closed again as your voice carried on.

[charmspoint]

Sanguine Friday 6

 Introducing the religious groups and beliefs of the world:

The worshipers of the Unwillting Rose - The main religion of the world and the one perpetuated by the vampires. They are followers of Lurza, believing in her visions of a beautiful, perfect and undying world and doing everything in their power to spread vampirism and fulfill her wish. Those who don’t willingly accept the undeath are seen as traitors to the goddess and freely treated as prey. Followers indulge in endless beauty and hedonism, often holding grand balls in their goddess’ name. They also perform blood sacrifices, mostly of angels of other gods, seeing them as the most fulfilling and beautiful meal they could offer to their goddess, just as they see consuming angel blood as a step towards becoming closer to her.

The children of the Earth Mother - They believe in the old Mother who had given birth to the world and the gods and had since fallen asleep. They believe that with time she will awaken and take her place as the rightful ruler of the world, defeating Lurza and restoring the world back to its old prosperity. It’s a relatively paganistic religion, concentrated on upkeep of the world and defense of that which still remains unchanged. They are gradually losing in popularity with each year the world falls to darkness and the Mother remains unresponsive to its plights. Most of the believers are human.

The hands of the New Brood - A group consisting mostly of former angels. They believe that what the world needs is a new batch of gods that will restore the balance of the world and overthrow Lurza. Despite this lofty goal, they are hard pressed to explain by which method they would create these new gods and are mostly viewed as young experimentalists with nothing to show for their grand ideas. Their numbers are small and a lot of them end up switching their allegiance with the Mortal Marrow instead. 

The keepers of the Mortal Marrow - unlike their siblings in New Brood, most of the members that make the Mortal Marrow are determined to work their way down, instead of up the evolutionary scale. Their goal is to make humans the dominant species in the world, elevating them to a godhood position without actually making them gods. Angels who had willingly fallen instead of losing their gods make a big portion of this group, as they see humans as gods that would be easier to manipulate and control in their own favor. Human members are generally left unaware of the darker plans of their companions. Mortal Marrow is an intensely scientific group, employing large numbers of alchemists and researchers as their belief is that the quickest way to godhood is for humans to partake in the creation of new form of life, just as gods had so many years ago. 

Vigil for the Fallen - Not exactly a firm religious sect on their own, this name is used for the former angels who still continue to uphold the rules of their dead masters and who wander the world trying to find a way to bring them back. They are mostly looked upon with pity as even the death of a god is a permanent, irreversible thing. And who is to say that if gods did return from the dead, that they would return unchanged.

[iron-hearts-ablaze]

They were celebrating in this wretched little excuse for an inn. Threadbare, falling apart, and held together by hopes, dreams, and maybe a little glue. Astarion ordered a tall, cold beer for her. Sauntered over to the table they secured among the Harpers. “Thought you might enjoy this, darling.” He set the drink down in front of her. “A little treat for cooling that engine of yours.”

He’d give her time to drink, but he'd other ideas in mind for later. He had been so very patient waiting for the chance, a real chance to connect with her. Not these hurried things under the guise of a fire resistance potion for a hour at a time. Astarion enjoyed it, honestly. The times when they couldn't included. Where he didn’t have to use his body to enjoy being with someone. But he wanted to now. He craved the intimacy of her affections. Her kisses, specifically. He wasn’t too keen on sex part at the moment. Not through a fault of hers, mind.

“So after this, why don’t you indulge me later. The hug was nice and all, but I have something else in mind.” On his lips a smirk painted. The subtle gesture of his finger ran along his lips. She was clever surely. She’d catch his meaning.

Touch. An under appreciated sense. People tend to flock towards fearing being blind or deaf, but to lose the ability to touch was more impactful than one may like to realise. But after a frigid decade, Karlach was finally able to experience it once more. So suddenly, everything seemed brand new again. The wooden chairs that didn't scorch as she sat on them - when she wasn't trying deep breathing to calm herself. The feel of fur as she pet Scratch back at camp. The feel of a beer staying cold in its tankard... Chilled arms around her-

Her thoughts broke as he presented the foaming beer, her head fell back slightly as she said. "Ugh, you read me like a book. I was dying for one of these - thanks!" Karlach sat up properly, leaning one arm on the table while her other hand brought the pint to her lips. Licking away the foam.

Karlach's brow raised at his comment. Her gaze couldn't help but flicker downwards as he gestured around his lips before forcing them back up. A flip down in her stomach, a hitch in her chest. Perhaps the new piece Dammon had given her was still adjusting...right?

Whatever this was between them didn't really have a label. Friends with benefits? But without almost all the benefits. Maybe that was just fine. Maybe that's all they needed. A dark tendril pierced the back of her mind as she reminded herself of what Dammon had said... She hadn't long. So maybe keeping it as harmless flirting and the odd stolen kiss was the safest bet.

"Aha, so this is a bribe." Karlach grinned as she lifted her tankard toward him slightly. Bringing it back to her lips for a moment. When she placed it down, this time she instead removed the foam with her thumb. Looking him in the eyes as she licked it away. Returning such teasings. "So. Let's hear this 'something' of yours."

[the-grim-and-sanguine]

Flash Fiction Friday 222 - An Empty Grave

My first piece of writing for here is a flash fiction prompt fill ( @flashfictionfridayofficial ). I am convinced it probably doesn't make sense and I banged this out in an hour and a half when I barely ever write anymore, but my beta reader (my partner) says to post it so here we go-- Have the first main writing for my WIP Sanguine.

CW: Mention of death, grief, loss, etc.

----

Of course it’s raining. A scene like this wouldn’t make sense if it weren’t.

Logan laughed bitterly at that thought and tilted his head back to let the raindrops hit his face. Hopefully then, when he finally decided to leave, it wouldn’t look like he’d been crying. 

But it was okay to cry, wasn’t it? Michael had taught him that. That stupidly optimistic man had taught him many things over the past year. Had shown him things he’d always been too afraid to do himself. And had helped him see parts of himself he didn’t even know were there.

It was nice, the cool rain. It helped him calm down after the events of the day. The sound of rain had become a comfort of sorts. He used to hate the sound of it, but now, after Michael, after feeling how the man relaxed and became so at ease, it was nice. He took a deep breath and finally set the bouquet down on the grave he was sitting before. 

They were for the man who helped him heal.

For the man whom he had fallen in love with.

And for the man who he could never utter a word about. He smiled. For the first time in a long time, he smiled. For the past year, it had always been Michael who had done the smiling for them. But now it was just him. It was such a bittersweet thing - since Michael had to leave to make this possible. 

He looked down at his hand, at the ring on his finger. He remembered the day Michael had won it for them. It was a cheap thing, one of those rings you can win at an arcade that leaves a blue stain behind when you eventually take it off. But they hadn’t taken it off. And he didn’t plan to take it off for a while. Logan sighed, his eyes moving back up to look at the headstone.

Michael Inoue

May 6, 199X - June 21, 201X

Beloved Son

He couldn’t stop the choked sob from escaping him, and just like before, he tilted his head back to let the rain hit his face.

To think that if his parents hadn’t contemplated turning off his life support, or if he had never been in that coma, or if he had never been in that car accident, then he would have never met the love of his life. 

A man who died too young. A man who he would have never had the chance to meet otherwise. A man who was incredible in every way. A man who had saved him. 

Another sob escaped past his lips as he longed for something that could never be. Something that should have never been. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he knew it was time to go. So he pushed himself up, off the muddy ground, not caring that he was soaked through and mud-covered, and made his way toward the gate.

Today was the first and last time he would ever step foot here. For he knew Michael wouldn’t want him to. At least until he had crossed over as well.

To think, a year ago, his parents were looking into plots for him. And had accidentally purchased the plot next to the man he’d dedicate his life to.

And who would have ever thought that an empty grave would have been a good thing?

[thecunnydiaries]

June 1841 1st Tuesday

Fine: hard at work up to the last minute. Company commenced coming at 8 PM, and continued till 11 oClock. Dancing commenced at 9-30. The Erebus was crowded to an excess - there being above three hundred persons; in fact the whole of the "Aristocrasy" of Colony was in her. The company entered the Supper Room 11-30 and a most Splendid Supper Table it was all the delicate Viands of the Season or Van Diemans Land could produce was on the Table. Capn Ross presided with the Govn Sir John Franklin on his right and Capn Crozier on his left. There was Several very appropriate Speeches made and Toasts drank. Dancing and feasting was Kept up until 6 oClock in the Morning and every thing went off with the greatest Eclat and hilarity.

Campbell's Notes:

The Hobart Town Courier and Van Diemen's Land Gazette, Friday 4 June reported ‘The anxiously looked for entertainment took place on Tuesday evening last, the 1st June, and although it was sanguinely expected by those who had the gratification of being among the chosen guests that it would be a brilliant affair, we venture to assert that the gayest dreams of the most imaginative of those fair ones who looked forward to it with palpitating hearts, never in their most enthusiastic flights pictured to themselves so perfect and captivating a scene as was in reality presented to them! - and amongst those whose sober minds regarded it with a more matter-of-fact complacency, we are equally sure even they could not but acknowledge their zeal and gratitude awakened by the unsparing pains and labour, evident in every part of the arrangements, devised with such triumphant success to render them for one evening, at least, supremely happy.’

The Hobart Town Advertiser, 4 June 1841, reported that more than 300 were present, and the ships were moored head and stern within 35 yards of the shore. ‘The approach was over a bridge of boats, which was covered in with canvas and flags - ornamental shrubs, and a continuous avenue, lighted by numerous lamps. Serjeants of marines of vessels stationed at entrance. Company received at end of passage, on main deck of ship, by several naval officers in full dress.

‘The mode adopted in lighting the supper room was inimitable, for, independent of numerous chandeliers formed of swords and cutlasses neatly fixed, holding hundreds of wax lights, there were arranged all round the sides numerous small mirrors each containing two lights, which reflected double, forming the most brilliant light that could possibly be conceived.’ The mirrors were those that had been brought out as gifts for natives of islands visited.

The Colonial Times, 8 June 1841, said of The Naval Entertainment. ‘Nothing so good has been seen in this Colony.’

[hadrians-wall95]

Who says only Death Company units are Death Company? Doing 2000 points up for a Friday night dust up. It's time to break the Tryanid Lines on Planet Snifflick, and find the source of this invasion.

The Sanguine Knights have always had the gift of prophecy, like their Sire before them. Many fall to the black rage among the knights. The time traveling in the warp only playing on their minds more. Many fall to the Rage.

But, it can be mitigated. The Death Company are lead by their King, Leadites. This is a hereditary position, King. The Brother who bares it is a special gift. The ability to, somewhat, supress the Rage of those already lost (this totally isn't just a way to have an OC Lamertes be My warlord. Nope. No siree)

The current king, Larertes used to be Captain of the Sanguine Knights Firstborn Companyn(a smash captain model of old, now remade as a Lamertes for rules purposes). Now, he leads the True Death Company (Death Company with jump packs, the OGs who are certainly going to die next codex rip), those who are the most lost, into the heart of the Tryanid Nests. Its time to Eradicate this threat, at any cost.

[hlvrfreakyfriday]

(( so i've decided to repost the Freaky Friday fic here on the blog, to have one other place to read it besides just ao3. here we go! ))

HLVRFF: Chapter 1

It all happened so fast, Benry didn't even detect what was going on until after the fact. And by then, it was too late for him to do anything about it.

Being an eldritch horror from the cosmic void, Benrey had a lot of real fun abilities at his disposal. One of those being the ability to 'astral project' as he'd heard humans call it. He never really used this one too much, though. Until he moved in with Gordon, that is. He'd found that slipping out of his own body to go hang out in Gordon's dreams was a pretty sick way to pass the time at night, when nothing else was keeping his attention successfully. Or when he was feeling lonely. Being the only one in your friend group who doesn't need to sleep at night kind of sucks sometimes.

Gordon was… a little unnerved by the brain-intrusions at first. But he never told Benry to fuck off with that shit, as the night time chats with the entity were much, MUCH preferred over all his PTSD night terrors. Dreams never kicked in right whenever Benry was there, including the bad ones, so it was a win-win situation, really. However, if a dream was already in the middle of happening when Benry jumped in, the dream didn't just automatically stop.

He never thought much about it until tonight.

Benry wasn't really feeling in the mood for any video games, so he decided he'd go see what ol' Feetman was up to in dream land. He got himself laid out nice and comfy in his bed, slipped out of his body and into Gordon's.

And soon came to very much regret it.

Gordon was having a nightmare about Xen, looked like. From his vantage point, he could see the man fleeing for his life from something. He didn't see what, but whatever it was, it had the poor guy scared absolutely shitless. Benry could feel all the horrible emotions Gordon was having while sharing a headspace with him, and yeah, no, this was not cool. He needed to calm Gordon down, show him he was just dreaming. If he could get him in a more lucid state, the nightmare would be easy to knock away.

Dream-Xen wasn't set up the same way as the real deal was- but thankfully Benry was able to just clip through everything just like the real one, which allowed him to cut Gordon off as the human frantically made his way through the winding tunnels.

When Gordon rounded the corner and came face to face with Benry, the human let out a strained shriek, and looked like he was about to book it back towards whatever he was fleeing from before. Whu..? Oh, shit, right. Benry was playing the bad guy when they were all on Xen, so of course Gordon wouldn't be very happy to see him, even if he wasn't at the same giant size he was back then.

…Wait.

Benry was the main threat to Gordon and the Science Team when they were on Xen.

So… did that mean…

As if to answer Benry's unspoken question, a massive, pale hand came phasing through the roof of the cave, one of its sharp black talons nearly impaling Gordon as it did. Gordon fell to the cave floor and looked on in horror as the monstrous owner of the hand brought their face into view.

Gordon wasn't having a nightmare about Xen. He was having a nightmare about Benry.

The alien's heart dropped like a fucking rock at the realization. Dream-Benry raised his fist, looking like he was getting ready to crush Gordon, and that's when real-Benry shoved down the sanguine and shadow building up in his throat and dove towards the human. He grabbed Gordon, and then sunk them both down into the floor, escaping into another chamber. Gordon thrashed in his grip, desperate to get away, but Benry held firm, and flipped the man around to face him.

"dude, dude, you gotta- you gotta calm down. that thing- that's not me, you're dreaming-" Benry tried to explain, but Gordon wasn't fucking listening, he just kept screaming at him to let go and get away and-

They were both silenced when the sole of a giant combat boot came down hard directly on top of them.

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

Benry's whole form jolts as he returns to a more corporeal state of being. God, fuck. Dying was never fun, even in dreams. He lets out a heavy sigh and blinks- wait. His eyes are open? Why is it so fuckin' dark, then? He looks around the room, and does see… a faint light, shining in the corner of the room. Focusing on that light, his eyes begin to adjust a bit more to the dark. It's then he realizes that everything is blurry? He moves to push himself up into a sitting position- oh holy fuck he feels so tired and heavy and weak. What the shit. He brings a hand up to his head to rub at his eyes… and finds that his cheeks are a lot less bony than he remembers. Benry blindly gropes at his face some more, and feels what is very clearly a scruffy beard that he very much did not have before.

"yo what-" he says aloud, cutting himself off instantly when he hears himself speaking with Gordon's voice.

That's… new.

And would explain why he can't see shit all. Benry carefully feels over for where he knows Gordon's bedside nightstand is, and turns on the lamp once he finds the switch, to back up the little light from what he now realizes is Gordon's night light. Okay okay, no longer dark, but still blurry as hell. Squinting at the nightstand, he makes out the general shape of Gordon's glasses, and gingerly picks them up and places them on his face. Ah, there we go, blessed with sight once again. Albeit still pretty fucking shitty sight. This isn't how Gordon's eyes are ALL the time, is it? No, no, can't be. That'd be messed up. His sight, and all of his other senses come to think, are probably just all discombobulated from being forced into the wrong body. Yeah. Totally. He just needs to give it a minute.

Suddenly, a scream rings out in the house, in a voice that Benry recognizes as his own.

Oh shit, Gordon.

Welp, 'giving it a minute' is now officially off the table.

Benry quickly hops out of bed (ignoring the foreign ache in his-Gordon's? legs) and bolts towards the door. It's here that he makes yet another discovery.

His usual powers didn't carry over with him into Gordon's body, apparently, as when he tries to clip through the door because it's faster than opening it, he just fuckin' slams right into the damn thing. He groans, both in pain (so much pain…) and embarrassment, before opening the door like a normal human person and books it down the hall to his bedroom.

Flinging the door open and flicking on the light switch, he's met with a very concerning sight.

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

Gordon lurches up into a sitting position, reflexively throwing his arms up, as if to hold off the massive boot that was trying to squash him like a bug. It was just a dream, he thinks as he realizes that he's not dead or on Xen. Doesn't do anything to calm his residual panic, though. His heart is still going a mile a minute and… and that's not right. His heart isn't beating right.

His brain finally catches up with the rest of him, and he realizes that he's in an entirely different room than he was when he went to sleep. It's Benry's room from the looks of it, but… it's not right, either. Why is the lighting so weird. The light's not even on, but he can see, he can see SO clearly and- the colours. They're all so much more vibrant, and there's ones he doesn't even recognize. He can't even think how to DESCRIBE them, what the fuck.

Ignore that for right now, Gordon, you gotta calm down, he thinks to himself. Closing his eyes, he reaches a hand up to run his fingers through his hair. Doing such has often helped him ground himself during anxiety and panic. But instead of feeling his long, soft hair, he feels a knit beanie. He does not wear knit beanies. His roommate wears knit beanies. His roommate whose room he inexplicably woke up in just now.

Gordon's eyes snap open and he looks at his hands.

They are not his hands.

"What the fuck," he utters, barely above a whisper, in what is definitely Benry's voice.

No. No? No. No! This isn't happening. This is NOT fucking HAPPENING. He's still dreaming, CLEARLY he's still dreaming! He just needs to wake up. C'mon, Gordon, you can do it. Wake up. Wake up, Gordon. Wake UP, Gordon. WAKE UP, GORDON-

A scream rips out of his throat, as he feels something else in his borrowed body rip.