#SLITHERING VICIOUS VIOLATOR

[blacksatellites]

#LIAR #TRAITOR #SLITHERING VICIOUS VIOLATOR #ingested #ashes lie still #death metal #slam

[raxistaicho]

I really can't see how people keep calling Edelgard the villain of Three Houses. Her methods may be questionable (but really, whose methods aren't in this game?) but her ideals and reasons for starting the war are sound. She wants reform. She wants positive change. She wants people to suffer less. She wants to remove the powers that result in things crest eugenics and extreme wealth gaps and various forms of abuse and human rights violations. She wants a better world for the people of their continent. And while those things may come sometime in the future through slower "peaceful" reforms, not everyone in Fódlan can wait that long, or will even live to see it. Especially with the added issue of those who slither in the dark being part of the equation. Also, looking at the lyrics for "Edge of Dawn", canonically Edelgard's song and the main theme of the entire game, how can anyone look at her and go "oh, yeah, that's an irredeemable war hungry villain".

Edelgard is a character who saw the issues plaguing the people, heard those in power say "it is what it is, and peaceful change takes time" and decided the risk of starting a war for change was worth it.

A lot of her motivations and methods honestly remind me of Lelouch from Code Geass, and people consider him one of the greatest heroes and tacticians in all of anime.

Why can't people see Edelgard is cut from the same cloth?

Edelgard detractors tend to fall into two camps, one of which I understand (though still disagree with), while the other are the kind of people I interact with here.

First you have the reasonable Edelgard detractor who acknowledge her positive motives but disagree with her methods. I understand where they're coming from (war sucks after all, not even CF pretends different) but I also disagree with them that life in Fodlan could have been fixed by just having the three lords and Rhea sit at a table and talk things out. Systemic issues that have lingered, and if anything worsened, for a millennium don't get fixed by just having the "right" leaders come into power and fix them.

Then the Tumblrite Edelgard criticals are just the type who think she's a vicious Nabatean-hating racist who want to reclaim the old Adrestian territories. For them there's just very little middle ground since they aren't even coming at it from a baseline accurate read of her character. It'd be like trying to argue with someone who thinks Dimitri was having a blast slaughtering Imperial troops in boar mode...

And yeah, there's a whole video comparing her to Lelouch, it's really good stuff!

Link here for anyone who wants to see it!

#fire emblem three houses #edelgard discourse #edelgard von hresvelg #edelgard positive #lelouch vi britannia

[rfhusnik]

Corzer’s Second Letter To Ralph From Paris

CORZER’S SECOND LETTER TO RALPH FROM PARIS PART ONE

 Written By:  Charles Platt and George Jennifer

  AN INTRODUCTION TO CORZER’S (CHARLES PLATT’S) SECOND LETTER TO OUR CITY’S THEN MAYOR RALPH HAWK:  I’m George Jennifer, the current mayor of “the city.” And these are some words of introduction to Corzer’s second Parisian letter to his friend, and our city’s then mayor Ralph Hawk. And yes, I believe that releasing this letter at this time is a controversial action. It’s somewhat dated now. A number of years have passed since it was written and sent. Yet, in consultation with Corzer, F. John Surells, Orlon Braem, Rashon Leyf, and a few of Ralph’s other favorite writers from this city, a decision was made to grant it “the light of day” so to speak. And that decision was partly prompted by the knowledge that the entire story of Charles Platt and Valerie Danns may never be completely told. However, since it was a fairly long letter, the group of people alluded to above, and myself, decided to divide it into two parts. Part One appears here.  

I’d like to say as well, that the same group of Ralph’s former friends also decided to re-release Joseph Same’s impressions of Mona Lisa. That will appear (unless something of great importance occurs either within or outside the city) as the next installment after the completion of Corzer’s letter. Thank you, and may God protect you in these troubled times.

                                                                                     Mayor George Jennifer

  PART ONE OF CORZER’S SECOND LETTER TO RALPH FROM PARIS:

  Dear Uncle Ralphie:

 The rain slithering off rooftops here is a gentle rain. And it’s falling across the city of light. It’s an overcast day today. And I’m fearful some unseen entities may be lurking outside my window. But if they are, I can’t see them; not merely with a glance through the glass at least.

Yet, there must be some forms out there. And they must be formulations of what mankind, in no doubt a rare consensus between its four divisions, has concluded that “good people” should be, and appear as. And isn’t it such a wicked world today? Yes, and I’m deeply troubled about what the United States of America will be like if it doesn’t elect better leaders at all levels of its government soon. But as I live here in Paris today, I imagine that all the scenes which seize my sight here are murals of sections of that city nine miles from my farmhouse home – my childhood home!

And that city has two divisions, doesn’t it Ralph? And as a child, although my mother would have strongly objected to my thinking such thoughts, and although I actually lived nine miles from it, I often found myself contemplating what I sensed to be a self-pitying, animosity filled mindset prevalent on the south side of that city. And those thoughts often troubled me then, since even as a child I believed in the freedom of thought and art; and, of course, in the rightful constraints of self-responsibility.

And it almost seems as though someone has agreed to meet me here this morning. And I’m thinking we’re supposed to leave here, maybe aboard a magic carpet, or maybe via a spacecraft within my mind. But God, please never again make me board Joseph Same’s vicious circular ship with ride!

And if we indeed leave bound on such a mental missal, or physical missile, then perhaps far away amongst present and bygone stars we’ll find time to think many thoughts we probably should have previously pondered. But we’ll contemplate them then. And I fear we may find that many of them were generated by a sort of “heavily handled overbearance” which we utilized in a “weighted” past, but only remember today.  

And I’m so very thankful that except for possible inter-reality transfers, I’ll not need to relive the past. But then, who can say what lies ahead of us? And who knows if we’ll journey through pragmatic light years spaced by epochs of good and evil, right and wrong, etc…?

Yet, we do know that in the Court of Verifiable Nations, the proctor once said, “Amalgamation and individuality will know a marriage of many difficulties. Still, for the good of their offspring, and of time passing by, it’s best they try to avoid divorce. Nevertheless, I fear the day will someday dawn when many of those who violated America’s southern border will regret that they did so. ”

And yes, I believe that’s true. But it’s also true that sometimes, when someone turns a page, everything seems so different, so changed! But even then we know who the grandest pretenders are. They’re the non and anti-intellectuals who know little of life except their left wing ways. And do they even know that the greatest event that ever occurred in anyone’s life was his or her acceptance as a child of God? That acceptance granted he or she the possibility of entrance into the timeless light eternally, but couldn’t guard him or her from the cutting blade of liberalism temporally.

But oh, it’s so difficult for me to not focus on the past. And I wouldn’t have gone into the military had not my older brother done so before me. So, that makes me wonder if I’m only a follower of others. In other words, just because certain people did certain things at certain points in their lives, does that mean I have to replicate those deeds and those people’s choices?

But my older brother had a girlfriend within a year of his discharge from the Marine Corps. And they dated then for about half a year, and then broke up. And after they split, I asked Gregg why they separated. He said “Both of us just agreed we weren’t right for each other.”

And you know Ralph, I hope my tracing of my brother’s footsteps ended when I left the Corps. I don’t want to break up with the girlfriend I have now – well, actually the first real one I’ve ever had. And I can’t say if the fact that she’s French contributes to my infatuation with her. But she’s “gotten under my skin.” I hate that phrase, but I’ll use it so you understand that I feel as though I’m “hooked” – another winner of description. But let me tell you about the first time I saw her.  

[deviationdivine]

My Desecrated Love (machine!Connor x Reader)

TLDR: In the heart of the battlefield you will not accept the fate of this profane love...

Word Count: 4.5K Follower!Celebration

TW: Angst (Heavy-Suicide), Android Gore, Language, Smut (Heavy), Violence 

A/N: !100 Follower Celebration!: While my poll is open I still wanted to write up something to celebrate the milestone for you guys. I’ve had an influx of more followers since I announced the celebration so I feel it’s the right time to post! This went off the rails into some serious territory so please if you are uncomfortable with any trigger listed skip over loves. I’m not big on the machine!Connor path but I’ve been sucked into my angsty headcanons for him. Thanks to you loves for following, requesting, commenting and being precious beans. 

You let me desecrate you

Ferocious. Devouring. Endless.

Machines do not die or so he told you. Does a lie reveal fallacy? Can it show truth denied so vehemently? 

He denied. Deviancy, feeling and love all parts to a whole that somehow he tears away by choice. Choice itself paints him deviant by heart but not this one. Never will this harbinger of decay spreading his plague over revolution shun mission for emotion.  Still it did not cease this communion of flesh. 

Siphoning life from your body that he takes on willing pleas cast out luscious, sinfully aware you are nothing. To him you are just a means. One that loves him all the same but he does not love. He chooses not to in order to unleash chaos. 

A man-made monster all wire and metallic. You love his unnatural existence. Unnatural as all androids deemed by their creators but Connor is beyond. He is the night shade that poisons your heart.

An all too willing bride to a heinous creation built to destroy all he touches. The moment you saw him should have been enough to know. He marked you from the start.

Never have you felt so close to heaven. In his eyes seemingly soft but all part of programming engineered by Cyberlife.

RK800 most advanced equipped with latest technologies. Programmed to be sociable, to gain camaraderie, integration in the most efficient way possible and he slithered into your soul.

RK800 is a machine not a man at all. Oh but what a man. What a glorious image of the perfect God who lays waste to sinners. He lays waste to deviants. His own kind he will do anything to destroy. 

Not once does he die. Not once does he succumb to failure. Each step casts his shadow like a reaper stretching bony fingers out for a touch of extermination.

That touch burns acidic but you love his astringency. Bitter to taste, salivating in want of his sour tongue. He is raging, dominant and yours. Foolish to think he truly is when he is Mephistopheles incarnate. Deal with the devil calls a deal to your death.

Weaponry is his scythe. Cyberlife jacket flapping in the wind is his cloak.

Can a person really love a monster? Yes.

Can a person love death itself? Yes.

Just ask Persephone.

Connor is god of the real underworld of Detroit. Filled with filthy red ice dealers, insane deviants who kill their masters; Connor is death riding on a pale horse. And you love death with all of your heart. If only he were alive. If only he became alive instead of making you suffer this love. 

Oh, how much you suffer. Oh, how gladly you do. For this cruel, violating, unholy love that should not exist but it does exist eternally.  

If he were flesh and bone his tendrils would hang listlessly, pouring scarlet into white. If he were of warm blood he would bleed a puddle of crimson horror. Throat torn apart in vocal chords, internal matter and cells that make up a human’s DNA. If he were not machine life would run cherry rich, staining frost even as it ends.

He is not human. He bleeds blue twilight as the hour itself shades in endless sky.

Bodies lay to waste. Snow flutters a chilly dust. Continuously flakes fall in a frigid blanket over an impromptu graveyard. Dead deviants strewn across field of ice left where they lost their last artificial breath. Center of it all a most sacrilegious figure. Sprawled out like a king struck down before his time, great majesty torn asunder and there he resides.

He is a statue eyes raised to night sky. Floundering amid this Detroit air crisp and still scented with gunfire this is a battlefield. It is a glorious frontier laid to waste. Wars are fought not won. They are casualty and blood. There is no victory. No one returns from the front unscathed. Not even your vicious carnage that you long to feel.

Silence permeates casting a shroud on this night of revolution. One terror is felled despite a sure fall of android revolution.

“Connor!”

Your scream penetrates stillness creating its own rage. Breaking open the sky itself unleashes hellfire on all that stands in the way of this unhealthy, terrifying love. Anguish obliterates whatever pieces are still left. Knees crash beside his body. Lying in irreverential crucifixion, arms displayed towards desecrated heavens. A beast brought down when he can never be tamed.

Crawling up his chest brings tear stains in drops. Falling in a torrent they clash with thirium staining grotesquely from his severed throat. Washing away is not enough. Internal circuitry sparks a final dying ember of red. Carnage that bled from his lips, ones that feast, connects brutally with yours. 

Instead they stain blue in splotchy abstracts highlighted against visible white plastic. Partially his skin is deactivated up to bottom lip.

Impact of the blow fiercely damaged his synthetic layer. Shutting it off where his throat was mechanically slit.

Even smearing thirium all over your hands clutching at his head, your lips still meet atop his. The first gentle kiss that ever passed between mortal and almighty. Thirium glistens on your chin after pulling away. You do not wipe it away. It is from him. You want him to remain.

Inside you he still digs deep. Nothing will destroy this. No one will take your Connor from you. No one on this god’s green earth!

Throwing your head back to unleash this devastating scream unmakes the last vestiges of life. Hollowness is core. Scream bellow the torment still no one will hear. Lost you are lost without your one desire even as he remains machine.

Through blurry vision you find his gun. Lying amid snow where he fell. So close but far from his hand.

Stretching fingers out for the weapon brings it close to cradle. Nurturing his method of execution you stroke the barrel. Checking the rounds there are two bullets. Two as there are two lovers amid warfare.

“Footprints,” a hoarse whisper grazes your throat. Raw from releasing this agony but you ignore. Staring where you picked up the gun they are clearly printed. They travel. Thirium travels along with them. Thirium not spilled from Connor.

Peering across the expanse of android death there is but one place. A Cyberlife Store…

The rest is of no use or matter. None of them matter lying here. Only he does!

Collateral damage is scenery to your reunion. Death is your honeymoon.

You stroke his hair. Loving how those soft strands always felt tangled and pulled through fingers. He may lie dead but that is fine. You will meet this death with him.

A smile graces divinely. In his presence you feel as if worshiped by a god. Oh, how close he took you. So close. The nozzle of gun shifts. Pressing lips along the barrel you can almost kiss him.

You get me closer to god

“Connor!” 

Your voice cuts the air. Musty, alive as you thrive in soft red glowing from both his temple and neon lights glazing outside hotel window. Seedy underbelly of Detroit tucked away in sleazy notes. The room itself becomes a haven of sexual energies. Both live wires in completely different ways and he flicks tongue like a forked demon.

Circling your nipple, the android shifts above, plunging into soft warmth. Your arms force down in a vice underneath his hand. Holding them above your head caging as he fucks you the way you pled with him before shedding clothes. Swiping them off your body, Connor threw you indelicately. In a heap you fell to bed and he, the primal predatory, pounced upon weak flesh.

Edging fingers between your legs until sputtering in tears he watched it with a sadistic fascination. How wanton human beings become at the anticipation of receiving a good fuck.

Your orgasm over his fingers did not satisfy. Craving him inside of you, he obliges out of a silent pleasure. One he will not readily succumb to in deviancy. Nothing yields in his programming. This is simply a means.

Cyberlife’s upgrades enable Connor to soil you for his own means. He snaps baring teeth.

“Please, please!”

Whimpering your need for him only casts you down. This is something you know will not change him. Yet you still want his fire to spread through veins. Raining down an inferno burns to ash and snuffs your existence. A pale volcanic eruption bathing lava; you incinerate.

The pain of his grip starts a tingle in your fingers. Cutting circulation he decides using bare hands instead of his tie this time. Tied up, held down and battered you do not care. As long as Connor is yours again why would you care about anything?

You huff when he releases wrists. An immediate flood of blood returns to extremities. He is not finished with you.

Pulling your body upright sinks you further onto his length. A gasp spills deliciously as you grab onto him. A work of art to cling onto, lips close to his but you do not kiss him. Last time he left several days. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. He used it against you as punishment. 

Sweetly you crave to cradle his face into hands. Instead you grip the back of his head. Tugging those beautiful coffee color strands all yours in this heady atmosphere.

Digging fingers nape of neck yanks your head down forcefully. Meeting his vile heat burning a hole center of soul. You sacrifice yours willingly. All for him, always and forever he is your terrifying prince.

“I want to fuck you like an animal,” the machine growls against your pulse.

Teeth clamp mercilessly marking flesh in a target to his dominating destruction. Pain is ceremonial to a human heart given to a mechanical devil.

Oh. Oh! “Connor, yes, please.”

A snarl rips from his muscled chest. Throwing you over, he rears your hips up.

Crying out to his vicious thrusts only gives him satisfaction. As much as he will deny this pleasure it is in his eyes. Scanning over your movements, shattering your entirety as you beg, beg, beg into wee hours. Beg for rock hard beauty between your legs. His waist pivots pale, dusted all over his trim torso in freckles. Starry imperfections littering aesthetically across smooth skin stretching over a plastic frame.

Itching to touch him, run the tip of your tongue up center of chest. Dragging down in a wet trail to the plane of his abdomen, only when you cry out in streaming tears will he allow it. Shedding respectability is a small sacrifice. There are far greater ones.

Fingers squeeze around onto your neck adding a sting to various bites, teeth marks imprinting fragility. Tender skin trembles under touch of a vile, majestic lover. He is all things sharp and jagged. A pale shark slices its fin through ocean. Your body is a sea. He is the tidal surge, devastating tsunami washing away your shores.

Rolling your head back does nothing to stop the sway. Your entire body moves under the powerful rhythm of his hips slamming against your ass. Jolting you forward, face falling into covers bunched and torn from mattress you bite down. Muffling sweet moans surrendering to this bliss twisting your insides and still he continues.

Androids do not tire. They last way longer than humans in everything. Connor proves this each time he fucks you senseless.

You arch further up for him with no shame. All you want is the sweet snap to flood.

He said he wanted to fuck you like an animal. Pushed down from all fours, rendered helpless that’s exactly how you feel. You feel like a little creature caught in a trap. It’s so good.

“Connn….” Slurring his name gets you drunk on his love.

Feeling his hand crawl up back and rest onto the crook of neck you shiver. A touch far too gentle warns you. He pulls you up from the face first push.

Your back collides with his chest as he holds you in place. Forcing your knees to edge of bed, arm tightening across your heaving chest and the android’s fingers lock onto throat. Adding a little bit of pressure makes you see stars. 

Dizzying fireworks going off in a personal sky drenched in sweat, cum and tears. Such wonderful tears shed for your android lover who is neither of love or sweetness. He is not made for love as he repeats huskily each time.

Always you find yourselves coming back to this motel. Always you find ways to ravage one another. You can only weep for his beauty, prowess. And once more he makes your dams flood.

“Connor, I want-”

“You are gravely mistaken, Pet.” Spewing his little name for you as he zips jeans leaves the android unemotional. “If you believe your wants come before my mission.”

Shaking a head is the last ounce of dignity left. Who can you fool with this thinking? Already it is gone because he obliterates everything in his path. He obliterated you. Leaving you panting, sore and damned after he fucked you so raw.

His love hurts. His love kills. This is hurt you crave. Opening worlds never once thought to exist. Violent delights are his. Accepting this is the most horrific mistake you will make in life. 

He is no mistake. He is made into this despicable world. Sometimes you wonder what could be different if he was born instead. Besides being human? No, Connor is special. None can take his place, none can ever strive to be him. This is what you love. This is most assuredly what will be your end.   

Must you die to be part of him? If yes then so be it. 

Dragging up off the bed leaves you stumbling. Legs never function properly after a nightly session with him. Each time he becomes fiercer, leaving more marks on your skin. Those are marks you plead for. 

All you need is to be defiled by him. He took away more than innocence. This devil android owns a contract on your eternal soul. If an option presented itself to release it from his cold, ruthless hands you would refuse. 

Whatever this is, whatever comes the two of you are bound. Nothing will take it back. Only he can make that choice. 

“Connor,” you whisper raspy. “I-I just want to kiss you before you go. Please.” 

The machine drags shirt over shoulders. Buttoning white fabric he stares you down.

A visible shiver ghosts skin. You know this is what he is. Luring to a secluded place to give you what you want. Sometimes he lets slip a groan louder than intended. Brief moments Connor’s eyes glaze over coating chocolate in caramel. His body shudders in luxurious connection but quickly he steels his actions.

Part of you hopes to worm your way inside circuits. You want him to say he loves you. If there is one wish in this hellish world it is to be his forever. Any which way he wants and nothing will stop you from obeying.

Biting a lip at him now reveals weakness. For him it is all you have.

His body shifts fluid and catlike, circling like fresh meat to sink claws. Gripping into the plush of your hips tugs you against his hard chest. Immediately you melt candle wax to his flame.

Ravaging your lips with teeth all bite and canines. Swollen from sucking them as you fucked, Connor groans at the swivel of your hips. 

Grinding into him sets stress levels ablaze. Warning sirens going off locked with your supple movements. They catch the machine off guard. How desperate you are to change him but for once he allows you this.

Slipping tongue lets him taste. Just as he lavished your clit he devours moist saliva mingling with artificial. The tang does not draw your equally greedy kiss away. Something snaps making him further ravenous for you this evening.

“I love you,” you whine in a muffle, his tongue still probing.

 ^Software Instability

 Connor wrenches backwards. Wide eyes swivel over you running analysis and self diagnostics on his system. Red blares indicator in a shudder much unlike throes of passion making you surrender to him. Separating in an expeditious blink, he turns away to fasten tie around collar.

“Connor?”

Never have you seen such a look on his face. It almost resembled fear. No, he’s not afraid of anything. He is a walking fear. Everyone surrounding him is dust.

He no longer looks at you. Fully returning into pristine Cyberlife issued jacket, glowing and dazzling with android printed across his broad back and it is the last stitch.

Even as he tears out of room seemingly leaving you to crumble there is no fall. Somehow you know he will always come back. Once again to claim the pathetic human who seals their self to his treacherous love. Of that you will never be ashamed.

You let me complicate you

“Please! Please don’t let him kill us!”

Heart wrenching and human they cry out. They reach for salvation assuming you will give it to them. Naively hoping you can control him. Even if you wished to there is no stopping an avenger of death.

Flinching at the sickening burst of gun exploding a painting of thirium across wall you somehow cannot tear away. Knowing he will find it weak but you surprise yourself with how easy it is to watch. 

The female deviant slumps dead to the world. Back of head blown out in wires and circuitry dangles as tendrils slithering out open cavity in escape. There is no more escape. There is only nothingness.

The android straightens shoulders back. Fixing his tie casually sends an added shiver down your spine.

He tilts his head flaring nostrils. Moving steady, bold and direct he tosses emptied handgun to floor.

“Con…”

Connor pulls you flush in a rough swoop of his arm. Plastering together chest to chest and he kisses you with blood on his face. Smearing azure onto your skin does not disengage. You return hungrily whimpering into the mouth of your master. He is not the one who obeys. He is the one who commands. 

A snap of fingers twist the thrall. Long, beautiful and pliant they slide past panties, slipping into your heat among grisly slaughter. A whine gives away how good digits feel. Cool, mechanical but so lively with synthetics operating by choice. This choice makes you crave among the dead.

He swipes fingertips in a flick dragging them up from between your legs. His eyes darken watching minute expressions as he licks. Tasting arousal, perfume sweet enough to halt his next task. Obliterating those deviants Connor decides for once to follow urges.

The android thumps you against wall. It takes all of your strength not to fall down on knees at his mercy. To unzip his jeans and take his perfection into your mouth; you shiver from cold sweeping around your lower half. 

Already pulling down bottoms, you throw arms around his tall figure to encourage these actions. Actions that make you just as vile as his cold machine heart and you allow Connor to fuck into you in presence of a made family of deviants.

All felled by the great beast. A hunter, he preys on more than defective androids. He preys on the innocence of a human mistakenly in love. No longer do you possess such virtue. The monster you love more than your own existence corrupts every last thread.

“C-Con!” Choking on your whines offers zero mercy. He shoves you hard into the surface snapping hips to bury deep until you no longer can cleanse him. Erasing him will only come with cessation of life. Feeling you from the inside so snug, warm and belonging to him. An android who claims a human and it gives the machine dominion even among his masters.

Connor’s hand snakes towards your face. Curving the length of his thumb under your chin forces your head sideways.

“Look at them, Y/N,” he hisses dangerous. “You let them die. Yet you hardly care as long as I fuck you the way you crave. Is that not correct…carrion heart?”

A morsel to feast upon dead and decaying is what you are. You trickle into his system. Attempting to spread disease but he will devour the very heart of you before you turn him!

“Y-yes! Con…! Please.”

“Louder.” The android snaps into you. “Say it louder, Y/N.”

“I-I want you to fuck me!”

“Good,” Connor praises in rarity. “Then I shall fuck you, Y/N. I shall fuck you in the sanctuary of these deviants you so love. Ones that you wish for me to join.” Harsh mockery taints his tongue before gliding up the base of your throat. “How much have I already changed you, Pet?”

Unable to answer as he ravages, your eyes glaze over, holding tightly to the threads of his jacket. His voice echoes a nightmare fuel.

How much have you changed? To simply stand idle and let him murder androids when you always thought they were alive?

My whole existence is flawed

Snow tracks into store from two pairs of feet. One from the hider and another pursuer; you breathe harsh, stilted and sluggish. Strangeness defiles what you are doing. 

How completely opposite of what you used to be. Before he came and changed everything about you. Here you stand not at all a terror. Yet the choice you will make is already set in stone.

“You killed Connor!” You sneer, trembling.

Flashing lights sparkle in shimmery cascade on your silhouette. Signs of Armageddon christen a winter’s night in Detroit. Battles spread, war torn and countless victims as you wander following a trail of footsteps. 

The weight of the RK800’s handgun is heavy. 

Oh, so heavy it tugs. An anchor that will ultimately change you forever but he already did. He already bled into you harsh and serene. A demon with angel wings; Connor is the dark underworld at your feet.

Yet you hesitate as you peer into a pair of lively eyes, one green and another blue. Eyes shining with the same life you come to expect in all androids. Even Connor when he always reminded never will he be more than a machine. He was more. He was hellfire and brimstone.

Soldiers did not find the revolution leader. He sits here alone in this destroyed Cyberlife store. He sits, waiting for shutdown but you can give him mercy.

Is it merciful to take a life? Or it simple revenge for a man, machine, that never said he loved you?

“You loved him,” Markus’ statement is clear without need of context. He reads the struggle quaking in a shattered human mind. Peering up at you where he rests slowly shutting down. “Didn’t you?”

Tears trickle a sinful answer. Is it so wrong? Knowing that you loved a monster?

 “No,” you disagree with the past tense. “I love him.”

The gun goes off snuffing out in revenge for your love. Revenge will not have carried under his black wings if you were the one to perish. Swift retribution ends the revolution leader in loss. Yet there is no pride. There is no glory.

Instead, you feel your body cave in unto itself. Sobs fill this rubble agonizing over what you have done. For Connor you will do anything. It is this moment adding murder to your once innocent life that there is nothing left. You are violated. Soul is black. Soul is his. Devil’s contract on your heart pushes you to such violence.

 The violence of our love consumes the world, My Connor.

  Our violent ends will only dissipate in the night. Here is the night and you fall down to your knees. Once again back at your felled lover’s side. Blood is literally on your hands. Not just any blood. The blood of the revolution leader is damning. A human so weak somehow is so much more but not for what military wanted.

For your handsome angel of death, he is so beautiful among the snow. How you smile now.

None can ever truly destroy a reaper. Death itself is eternal. 

Now this suffering will end. You will end this. The world is gone. He was yours. 

“Connor, I love you.” Breathing against his forehead, lips graze cold synthetic skin. “Until the end. And this my sweet prince is my life for you.”

The barrel rests against stomach. Thrumming heartbeat crashes against ribs. A sign that you should stop but you do not listen.  “Forever I will be your carrion heart.” 

Pulling the trigger jolts you violently. Immediately falling forward, agonizing in a strangle quickly dragging you down in the undertow of blackness.

Rasping as life ebbs away there is only him. His profile you languish beside. Days you dreamt of waking with him resting like this. Only the two of you together and he will wrap you up in his wings, leathery black and consuming.

  Color floods the black and white. Chirping sounds tinkle pleasant, a distant vibration opening crystalline eyes in a sunny garden.

“Hello RK900. May you speak?”

“I-” The silver eyed android hesitates. Scanning location it is not – snowy.  “Amanda.” 

“Good,” the program commends his memory. “I see the transfer was successful.”

Transfer? What sort of transfer? 

“As the RK800 was destroyed in his final mission we took some liberties.” Amanda smiles conscious of amber swirling upon indicator. She moves fluidly towards tall android. The stark white of jacket matches her outfit for this fine sunny day in the garden. 

No longer tarnished by chill of winter, snow melts to a new place connected stronger than before. 

The android snaps his head aside. Gazing intently over expanse of Zen garden where he remains in connection. No longer feeling…

“Y/N,” he murmurs to wisps of data files. 

RK900 partially possesses memories from his previous incarnate. Obsolete as he was destroyed but -

Scarlet burns the LED. Uploaded they scald wiring.

“Y/N,” RK900 repeats. “Where-?”

Amanda does not change her expression. Her smile continues to instill false security and that is exactly what is required. “There is no further use of that human. Y/N, as you say, is dead.”

Dead. No. No!

That is not possible. How he stands here with an influx of memories not of his own but belonging to him all the same. He recalls your scent. It tears apart his insides.

 ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ Software Instability

 “Y/N!” My carrion heart...

He sinks, sinks down still never dying but falling down in this tale...

A vicious Romeo and his corrupted Juliet...

Tag List: @elydith @your-taxidermy  @tropfenlady  @connorswink @tommy-10-k

#connor x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh connor x reader #dbh rk800 x reader #machine connor x reader #dbh machine connor x reader #ruthless connor x reader #dbh ruthless connor #dbh #detroit become human #angst #i'm here to suffer this path #somebody save my soul #songfic inspo #closer

[septic-dr-schneep]

JSE Fanfiction - In Time Of Grief (Part 2: Affliction)

Summary: For the sake of making Chase suffer, Jameson is subjected to a brutal and heartbreaking game.

A/N: Warning for violence and emotional/psychological trauma.

Air trickled slowly into him through cracked, slightly parted lips. Ever so slowly, it meandered down his chest to his heart and his lungs, creating a dull, throbbing pain even as each breath came more easily. Head aching, Jameson wheezed faintly, sweat breaking out along his hairline as he heavily tried to stir. Somewhere beyond the thick, soupy din in his ears, there were voices calling him.

“T͝hat̷’s i͜t̡…Bac̶k̢ to͢ the̵ land̶ of the li͠vi͟ng̡ for pl̵ay̧ti̡me, l͘it̢ţle ǫne.”

“Stop! Please, no, just—just—!”

“O͝hhh,̸ ̸you’d r͝a̢t̕he͟r̢ I s̡u̧ff͜oc̨a̢te h͡įm!”

As he was only drifting back to consciousness, Jameson’s eyes had hardly blinked open before he was pressed flat against the surface of his cage by some unseen force, crushing in on his chest. In disoriented horror, he could do nothing but gasp as a strand of magic peeled away from the sphere over his head, lunging into his mouth and down his throat to crawl into his windpipe. It was metaphysical, fluid and solid, clawed tendrils scraping eagerly through his body, seeking out any hint of air and snatching them away from him.

“Jameson!” the voice from beyond his blurred vision howled, terror and anguish and heartache ringing against his ears, chasing his senses, chasing—chasing—

Chase—

Tears and adrenaline surged to the forefront and all at once he was awake, his heart thundering wildly against the obstruction curling around it with agonizing strength, so intense that he could barely form thought.

Strangled! Strangled! Strangled!

His body caught fire, limbs flailing wildly and uselessly as he tossed his head, gagging against what looked like nothing but intangible air. He was drowning in the taste of iron and ice—The more he consumed, the more it consumed him.

Just as grayish mist started swirling into his peripheral vision, threatening to send him back into the darkness, the writhing, burning pressure within him stilled, gradually falling lax. Chase was sobbing somewhere in the distance, muffled, but Antisepticeye’s voice was disturbingly clear and close.

“T̢ha͟t'͝s͞ ͢enou̷g̷h̵.”

Those two simple words set everything in reverse. The claws twisted tight around his windpipe retracted, slithering out of him with such speed that they wrenched his neck. As soon as the magic emptied from him entirely, he clutched at his scorched sides, curling in on himself against the violation. His following gasp was so distressed and heavy that it too stuck in his throat and his stomach lurched, rejecting it, rejecting everything. His second breath became a noiseless bark and then a far more violent heave, blood-tinged bile pouring out of him down his chin and the front of his vest. The mess that splashed across the inside of his prison burned away into nothing on contact, but the sickly scent of it still poisoned the air he had been so desperate for.

“Jem! JJ, are you—?! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Chase wailed. It took several seconds for his words to absorb into Jameson’s sluggish brain, but the longer he lay limp, greedily sucking in the vile oxygen and trying to recover his traumatized bearings, the more he remembered.

In the vicious battle for his mindscape, Marvin had freed him from Anti’s control. Dr. Schneeplestein had told him that he needed bedrest to make a full recovery and he had obeyed, gladly burying himself under the blankets in an attempt to forget. Every moment under Anti’s control had been torture, tearing him apart piece by piece, and he’d been too shaken to speak of it.

Chase had understood. He was close by his side every step of the way, never faltering, never straying, there to make sure that he was safe. For three days they stayed together, despite the fact that Chase had his own injuries. He should have been recovering too; if he had—

Trembling, Jameson lifted his pounding head, clutching at his wet, sticky chest and recoiling clumsily from the older Ego loitering on the other side of his sphere. Marvin simply tilted his head in response, seeming unimpressed. His eyes were dimly glowing, pulsing such deep violet that they bordered hollow black, and his lips were stretched in that keen, malicious smile—Every inch of JJ’s skin chilled at the familiarity and he finally managed to choke something out, the edges of his speech slide frayed and sputtering with his hoarse, sickened dread.

“You…y-you attacked us…”

Chase had been reading to him to keep him occupied; he’d been reading for hours and over the course of time, Jameson had noticed his words growing softer and sleepier. Upon peeking out from under his blankets, he’d found the poor vlogger slumped low in his chair, the book sliding away from his limp fingers as he dozed, leaving JJ alone with the silence and his intrusive thoughts of…

He couldn’t hold it against him, he convinced himself fiercely. He couldn’t. Chase had been through just as much as he had—his scars reopening, his surgery, and seeing Jameson under Anti’s control must have been just as traumatic as it was for Jameson living it. Maybe he would try to sleep too, he’d decided firmly, despite how his chest twisted his heart into knots at the thought of what might await him in his subconscious. Chase was here, he was his guardian. He would keep him safe.

He hadn’t.

Marvin—the man they thought was Marvin, he realized now—had slipped through the door to greet them and Jameson hadn’t thought anything of it. As soon as he had seen those soulless eyes and that very same smile, however, he’d panicked, but he had no voice to cry out and Chase hadn’t startled awake until it was far too late. Jameson had seen the monster’s true form before in the lab, ever so briefly, but staring into the eyes of a friend and seeing nothing but him was somehow just as terrifying.

“G̴o ̢a̶he͘a̡d͡,́ ̕pupp͠et,” he urged, in a tone that reeked of predatory pride; he knew full well that Jameson recognized him for what he was. “I’v̡e ̷n̷e͡v͠e̶r ̵heard́ you say͠ ̵my̸ ҉na̛me.”

“Antisepticeye,” he rasped timidly, resisting the urge to cringe at the way he bristled because of it. Even if he had, there was no more room at his back to retreat from him. Tightening the twist of his shaking fingers against his chest, he ventured weakly, “You’ve taken Marvin the Magnificent as you took me…”

“An͝d̀ h͘e tr̴ied ̨to fi͠g͞h͝t mȩ év̶éry ̀sįngle m͟in͢ut̢e̛ of͜ it,” the Glitch informed him delightedly. “Ąhh,̧ but he͡ ̴w̨a̵s al̨r͟e̴aḑy̧ broken ̨d̡own̵ f́rom try̵ing t͢o s̢a̛lvage wh͢at he̡ ̨c͢ould from ͢yo̵u͢r mind. Crąwlin͠g͡ out̡ ̢o͟f̡ y̛our head a̵nd i͜nto ̨h͝is w̶as̨ ch͢il͘d̡’s p͡lay! B͠ut̛ I̡ h̛avęn'̀t gotten e̷ńou͡g̀h of̴ ̡i̴t ju̴s̡t̢ yet.”

With a sharp turn of his hand, he spun Jameson out into the open, letting him rotate in stomach-churning circles for several seconds until he came to a leisurely stop in front of Chase. Jameson’s heart leapt in hope and fear at the sight of him and despite how his head reeled at the motion, he struggled onto his knees, reaching out.

“Chase? Chase, please, look at me! Are you alright?!” Chase’s head was buried in his hands as he rocked back and forth, weeping; he wasn’t looking up to read his slides and Jameson slapped his palms against the magic in frustration, hissing as his skin tingled and burned. “Cha—!”

“No nee̴d to ͡kee͝p ̷up t͟he ͝charade,” Anti growled, moving to stand alongside him, fingers drifting over the bubble. “Wȩ jus͡t estab̨lìs̛h́e̴d ̧tha̡t I'͏vȩ bęen ̵ins̡id̕é ̷you, pu̶ṕpe͘t͢.͠ I know how ̧y͜o҉u͞ thi̢n̛ķ o͘f h͘i̵m—y͝o͢ur poor, ̴da͡m͞aged da. I͠t’s be͟e̡n ̡so l͢ong s̨inc̷e y͠ou͝’ve͜ seen ̢h͜i͢m̴ smilę, i̢t’s been͏ s̢o̵ ̀ļo͢ǹg si̢n̢ce y̢ou got to b̴e ͞wiţh̢ him ̶w̧i͝tho̶ut f̨ear. Y̨o͢u͡ ́f̷eel so ̨so͜rry͠ ͝for him. You ͘al̀way͡s wonde̴r̢ how y̢o͘u could ͞ever͡ make̡ h͠i͡m ha̡p̶py͜! Wh̵o can b͘la͝me ̢you̶ for trying? ͠He has y̵ou ͢co͡n̴v͘i͝nc͡ed th͜at y̵ou’re his sp̛e̢cial li͜t́t̵le͠ boy͠. You͜ ͡hav͝e so m̡u̡ch fu͟n tǫget̵h̵er p̧láy̢i͞n̶g͝ ̧y͘our̨ ͠ga̶ḿes̨, pe͞r͘fo͡rming ͜you͢r t͠ric͘ks…Suc̨h̶ prȩc̢io͡us b̷ondi͢n͞g f͜or̶ fatḩe̷r a̡nd͞ son. W͡hy ͡don͘'t ͘I give ̨you an͝ot͝h͢er ̶game to̢ p͡l̵ay?”

Chase did lift his head then, horror dawning on his colorless, tear-streaked face as the last thing Jameson saw before the world became a frightening blur. The sphere of magic against his hands was suddenly suctioning to him like another layer of clothing, eating into his exposed skin as he was flung sideways at breakneck speed into the containment field that held Robbie nearby. Both JJ and the zombie cried out at the impact as they somersaulted, but Anti didn’t let them recover, latching onto Robbie with his free hand and slingshotting him back for another collision.

Again and again he beat them together like chalkboard erasers until the next impact earned him a sickening crunch and a wanton moan from Robbie as the stitches holding his throat together split. His head rolled, disturbingly loose on his neck as he whimpered, but his hands were too mangled to lift and cradle it. Giggling at the sight, Anti released him entirely, the magic around him dissolving away to let him crumble to the ground, a mere pile of tangled, shuddering limbs.

“No—N-No—” Chase gasped, pressing his hands over his mouth.

“T͏h̴át’s̵ t͘he e̶nd of͢ ͏h̶iş e͜n̴ter͠tainment,” the Glitch commented with a broad grin. “I'͏m͢ ̛s̀ųr͝ę ̴t̴he good do͞ct͢o͝r͞ ͝i̛n t͝h҉e c͡or̡ne͜r c͝o̧uld f͜i̛x ͘h̶im, but he̶'̢s͠ ̴s̡t҉i̷l̡l̨ s͜ound a̷s̨leep—and ͜I͜’m n̢o̧t̨ fin̷is͜hed with h͏i̴s othȩr pat͡ie͞nt ̨y̧èt̛.”

Popcorn and plaster rained down from the ceiling as Jameson crashed into it, a lightning strike of pain electrifying his ribs. He had no chance to recapture his breath before he was torn down and thrown into the distance, hurtling against the far wall of the living room. The thunderous blow reverberated through him, stunning, shattering. He saw nothing but stars as Anti hurled him downward and had no warning before his skull smacked the edge of the coffee table.

“Yo̸u͟r da has ͠a͠l͝wa͞y̢s̴ t̀rie͘d ͝t̶ó protect yo͢u!”Anti sneered over Chase’s panicked screams, arching his fingers to bring the reeling gentleman back up. Again he smacked against the edge, receiving a spurt of blood for his trouble. “He wants̵ ͢t҉o͢ p̢rot̨e͠ct̀ ̨yơu so ̡b̴a͢d̴ly. Let’s ìncorporate ̴that ͘in̶to o̧u͠r ̨g̷ąme!”

As Anti brought him down on the table a third time, Jameson’s holler of agony was so short and shrill that his speech slide couldn’t even register it, but the fourth blow didn’t follow right away. Instead Anti dragged him upright, examining the damage to his face with satisfaction. Jameson’s breath hitched thickly—once, twice, three times, and then he coughed convulsively, blood and tears spilling in mingling rivulets down his face.

“You’r̡e͏ ̢in a̶ lo̷t of͜ ҉pa͢in, J̷a҉m͜ęson J̀a͢ćk͜son,” Anti stated the obvious, his voice deceivingly soft. “Bu̡t if͘ y̴ou̶ a̷nd ͟yo͢ur̴ dadd͠y ̡p̡lay nicely, I mig̕h͜t ͝w̨a͘it to ͢k͢il͢l you. Y̶o͠u’ll gèt a͢ ͜m̷om͝en͢t to b͠r̶e̢athe, and̴ Çh͟ase ͝B̢ro͘dy will get̨ ͠a chance̢ ̢to̵ ̴p͡r͟o͠t̡ect yo̢u̵. This is a͠ gam͜e of t͟a̡g. R͜ight̵ n̡ow ìt̨’s ̵you̷r turn, but i̢t do̷esn̵’t h̷av͢e ͜to ̕be. All y̵ou͠ ha̴v͞e ͜t̢o ͢s̴a̛y is ‘You̷’re͠ it,’ and I’l̴l m̡ak̴e Cha͢sę s͠uf͠f̵er instead ̶of you.” With a gentle flick, Anti pressed the gentleman’s limp, shivering body against the wall, readying him. “W̷e ́bóth k̢n̷ow i͘t's w̸hat ̕he wán͠t̵s.”

“Do it!”

Past bruising, swollen eyelids and strands of hair matted together with blood, Jameson looked dazedly to Chase, who was clinging imploringly to the side of his prison. “Da…” he slurred out, his speech slide breaking as consciousness wavered.

“Do it, Jem, please, please do it…” he begged wretchedly, the blue in his eyes heartbreakingly bright with tears as he tried to force a trembling smile. “I can do it for you…I’ve t-taken worse, let me take it!”

“No…”

That voice—hoarse, broken, but without fear—came from the hallway. As Anti turned, Jameson was rotated with him in a violent twist, forcing a soundless whine out of him that died away as soon as he saw him. With his bare, staggering feet, oversized hospital gown and scruffy, ashen skin, he looked just as beaten down as his Egos, but his eyes were wild, filled with darkness and anger.

Anti stumbled back, his hold on Jameson loosening enough that his containment field returned to its proper shape and allowed him to slump down within it. Static storming erratically around his head and his shoulders, the Glitch quivered in disbelieving rage, spitting out, “W̸h̸at҉̨?!”

Jack’s mouth twisted in a bitter, defiant half-smile. “Let me take it,” he hissed.

#youtube #jacksepticeye #fanfiction #youtube fanfiction #antisepticeye #jameson jackson #dapper jack #chase brody #robbie the zombie #violence #torture #angst #feels for days #in time of grief

[memesmercy]

LYRIC STARTERS: HALESTORM

Featuring lyrics from the first three songs of Halestorm’s album, The Strange Case Of... ( 2012 ); please adjust pronouns, etc., as you see fit.

LOVE BITES ( SO DO I ) . . .

“ She reads those magazines. ”

“ You don’t have what she needs. ”

“ I slither like a viper. ”

“ I know a thousand ways to help you forget about her. ”

“ That bitch can eat her heart out! ”

“ That chick can eat her heart out! ”

“ Love bites, but so do I. ”

“ My lips are pale and vicious. ”

“ You’ve suffered in the darkness. ”

“ I’m nothing like the rest. ”

“ I’ll kiss you in a way you’ll never forget about me. ”

“ Now it’s got you by the balls. ”

“ I’ve felt pleasure without pain. ”

MZ. HYDE . . .

“ I’m your sweetheart. ”

“ Your goody - two - shoes prude is a work of art. ”

“ Yeah, you know I’m not so innocent. ”

“ I know you can’t resist me. ”

“ You better run for your life! ”

“ Welcome to the nightmare in my head. ”

“ Say hello to something scary. ”

“ Just give in and you won’t be sorry. ”

“ My poison is your remedy. ”

“ Better be scared. ”

“ Better be afraid. ”

“ The beast is out of her cage. ”

“ I know you wanna risk it. ”

“ I’m the spider crawling down your spine. ”

“ I will gently violate your mind. ”

“ There’s no way to be sure. ”

I MISS THE MISERY . . .

“ Oh, I miss the misery. ”

“ I’ve been a wreck since you’ve changed. ”

“ Don’t let me get in your way. ”

“ I miss the lies and the pain. ”

“ I miss the bad things. ”

“ I love the way that it hurts. ”

“ I don’t miss you, I miss the misery. ”

“ I’ve tried, but I just can’t take it. ”

“ I’d rather fight than just fake it. ”

“ You know that I’ve had enough. ”

“ I dare ya to call my bluff. ”

“ I hate that feeling inside. ”

#rp meme #sentence starters #lyric starters #music starters #rp sentence starters #halestorm lyric starters #halestorm

[duderocketship]

2 Lit Mafia

Muthafucka I squall! Fuck with me. Bawl so hard, aneurysms burst; Call it apoplexy Uh, bitch I rage! With the squad in the whip Yeah we goin places, ayye Up to the trap. Insert rap Got the gwap We in the kitchen cooking crack I'm like assuh dude. Nomsayin? This wordsmith, bitch I'm wild & sign my autographs with crayons I'm stimulated got my face wrung. Getting my sip on, Bitch what the fuck u trip on? Ugh. Worry about whats in my drink I'm lit for days son! Its been a grip; U Catch me slippin' I'm out this bitch, Don’t gotta stay long Whip that yayo, White like mayo, Rhymes on fleek - Murder your fleet, cops on my payroll Sick of the same ol' Every day yo. PC weenie, cut yourself Mainline some Drano Fire to the rock, then I'm stone cold! Slurrin my words; Got the glock in my holster Uh, & fam I'll flash my cock at your home girls No fuck to give lit 24/7, You want that beef I got it kosher (skrrrt) I got the sheets and the lotion & the bud I got is om nom Cause a stink, I got commotion U don't wanna face that skunk butt, That shit is potent Mixed some jet fuel in my lean - Now the fire I spit Is hot enough to melt through steel beams Rap game's fake, I devastate March to the guillotine - Don't hesitate its make or break I smoke the dankest memes. Ugh.. I'm 100 bout that hanky-pank Yuh & U won't find me where that loud pack ain't. Pop these shots off Go bang-bang I rep these streets, Bleed OG Whilst floppin' my dang-lang You scream you got racks But your shit's old No slack you're broke - Shits whack bro You've sold your soul Blood inks the contract tho & I'm Diablo Headfirst, Victims from this wicked verse Burst into flames Inside this wretched furnace Super earnest, This my sermon, Y'all gon learn this I'm that serpent Fuckin' sinister minister Mr.-Fisting-Your-Sister I slither in it a little Now I'm in utero, for real tho Til I'm old and withered, And my body's brittle With a 40, I'm in my underwear Wheelchairin' round Screaming I am the liquor! It don’t get no sicker, So just come bump to this - All the uglies in the world To violate with my fists Fulfilling all my deepest Darkest wishes I'm vicious. Some say I'm savage; Wreaking havoc, Combustion proliferating the madness - Ashes to ashes As the blunt makes some passes 2 lit 4 life consciousness starts to lapse fam Faded/ Stay lit through the day trip Not enough, where the plug is? Attractin' wealth stack em hundreds Slander me hold your tongue, Bitch 'fore I cut it... fresh prince, catch my lil' smith im going west son, railing through the clips get rekt, check your privilege White as fuck, zen master flux Shit I'm killin it Reid-Dickless.

Quit your bitchin', I'm in the kitchen whippin' it chu see the flick of the wrist?

(September 2017)

#reidums #duderocketship #poets #poets on tumblr #slam #spoken word #rap #raps

[emelye]

I had a dream with some fairly powerful imagery if someone wants to take a stab at interpretation? There was a lot to unpack. I was in my house. I noticed someone had cut a six inch slash in the carpet. The edges were frayed and through the cut, it revealed an empty hole in the floor. A little ways away, I stepped on a section of carpet that also appeared to have no floor beneath it. I cut open the carpet and saw maybe a twelve inch hole in the floorboards. Inside was my diary. The cover had been chewed by a rodent and as I looked, a small, white snake with gold stripes slithered out of the pages. I was disgusted and felt violated. I tried to get the diary from it, but it lunged and tried to bite me. It had to expose itself to attack me, however, and before I could think of a way to get rid of the snake, a much larger orange/red snake appeared behind me, chased the snake away and swallowed the white snake whole. The red snake terrified me. It was hungry, vicious and venomous. But again, before I had a chance to run away, an enormous green snake with multiple heads appeared and swallowed the red snake. I knew the green snake was my protector and friend. I wanted to thank it for saving me. Instead it bit me. I felt betrayed. But it told me it had done it to help me. It’s venom was not deadly, it only gave me the appearance of death, and I already had the antidote.

Anyone want to take a crack at that?

#dreams #dream interpretation #symbolism #imagery

[shannaraisles]

Set In Darkness

Chapter: 36 Author name: ShannaraIsles Rating: M Warnings: Canon-typical violence and threat Summary: She’s a Modern Girl in Thedas, but it isn’t what she wanted. There’s a scary dose of reality as soon as she arrives. It isn’t her story. People get hurt here; people die here, and there’s no option to reload if you make a bad decision. So what’s stopping her from plunging head first into the Void at the drop of a hat?

Interlude

Warm water lapped at smooth skin, sparkling in the light of the fire. Rory lolled comfortably in the tub, tucked between Cullen's legs as he held her in gentle arms, running his fingertips up and down over her skin. It was a tight squeeze, but he'd been right in the first place - they did fit, just about. All right, so she was scrunched up like a pretzel, and he couldn't be comfortable with his manhood crushed up against her backside, but they had both managed to get into the tub, albeit with a lot of slightly inappropriate giggling on her part.

But this ... this was good. Warm, safe, wanted, she rested there wrapped up in his arms, his lips dusting light kisses over her shoulder.

"Where did you get this?" he asked lazily, tracing one fingertip over a barely perceptible scar on the top of her left thigh.

She smiled faintly, tilting her temple against his. "I fell arse over tip into a garbage heap when I was seventeen," she offered, feeling her way through the story, scanning the words ahead in case of anachronisms. "Ria came out worse - her scar stretched right up to her belly button."

Cullen chuckled softly, tucking his arms about her once again. "Do I want to know the circumstances leading up to this injurious fall into garbage?" he asked in amusement.

"That depends ... where do you fall on minor transgressions of the law?" she asked teasingly in her own turn.

"How minor?" he pressed, his lips curving in a suspicious smile against her brow.

Rory laughed, using that moment to come up with a Thedas-friendly version of this particular mishap. "Stealing a guardsman's helmet while tiddly?"

He snorted with laughter, pressing a kiss to her temple affectionately. "I can overlook that," he assured her.

"How magnanimous of you," she giggled in reply. Truthfully, she and Ria had got gloriously drunk on Ria's seventeenth birthday, and stolen a Used Cars sign from a garage forecourt before leaping into a commercial dumpster to hide from the police. What had seemed like an hilarious joke at the time had turned pretty serious when they were both bleeding, and they had both been arrested, but the police just couldn't take them seriously when they independently declared that what Ria had wanted most in all the world for her birthday was a ratty old plastic sign from that garage.

She sighed contentedly, resting her head back against his shoulder as she let her mind spin forward to her life now. Today seemed ever so slightly unreal - she'd met Dorian Pavus, told Cullen she loved him, been gloriously fucked by Commander Sex-On-Legs, and was now taking the closest thing to a private bath she'd had in months. And it all felt so natural, like it was meant to be. Nothing had been forced or uncomfortable; even her embarrassment had faded away. She was still a little pissed off by the catalyst for this lovely evening, however.

"I have to ask," she said quietly, smoothing her fingers between his in the cooling water. "Why did you have Ser Harper interrupt me today?"

She felt him tense a little behind her. "Ah ... so you didn't believe the maleficar explanation."

"Cullen, if you thought Dorian was a blood mage, you would have had him thrown out of Haven by force," she pointed out, shifting just enough to allow her to see his expression. "You certainly wouldn't have allowed Kaaras to go with him into a known Tevinter stronghold."

He sighed guiltily. "To be honest, I hadn't given it any thought until Madame Vivienne made a point of mentioning that Pavus had been in the clinic with you for almost an hour," he admitted with a grimace. "Her interruption annoyed me enough, but her insinuation seems to have been calculated to take advantage of my mental state somewhat."

"She played you," Rory simplified, frowning. Vicious Viv strikes again. What was she aiming for? "Trying to put Dorian off-balance, I suppose. She wouldn't need to play these games if she'd just be nice to Kaaras. Given that her favorite hat has bigger horns than he does, it can't be purely because he's Qunari."

"You may be right," Cullen mused thoughtfully, unhooking one hand from hers to stroke his wet fingers over her shoulder and neck, smiling just a little as a small shudder rippled down her spine. "Perhaps she believes she can prevent Pavus from settling into the dynamic here in the Inquisition."

"If she does, she's already failed," Rory murmured, her own fingers retaliating with a caress to his thigh that made him stiffen against the curve of her backside. "He's already made himself more approachable than she does. A man who will happily get drunk and do female impersonations is always going to win in the friendship stakes against a slightly haughty, politically-minded harpy with obvious aspirations to power."

Cullen took the hint of her caress, smoothing his palm over her upper arm gently. "I, uh ... I offered him my apology for having his privacy violated for no good reason," he told her in a low tone, the corner of his lip quirking happily as she lit up for him, proud of her lover for swallowing his own pride and offering the hand of friendship. "Do you know what he said? That it was fascinating to meet a king that not only knows how to protect his queen, but uses templars to do it."

She giggled at that, recognizing the analogy in amusement. "Sounds like you've found someone who might actually offer you some challenge at chess," she commented, genuinely pleased when he nodded. Yay for Dollen chess games! ... is Dollen right? Should it be Curian? Ugh, they're both awful. Ruthus? Paverford?

"Should I challenge him, do you think?"

"Definitely," she agreed. "Before Iron Bull does."

"According to Kaaras and Cassandra, Solas and Bull are engaged in a game of chess played entirely in their heads," Cullen said with vague awe. "That's rather out of my depth."

"You play strategy games in your head all day," she countered with the suggestion of a laugh in her voice. "It's sort of your job, love."

He laughed at that, unable to argue with her. What else described the intricacies of deploying a small army across southern Thedas to counter moves made who knew how long ago? Accepting her kiss, his arms slithered about her waist once again, holding her with possessive affection as she closed her eyes to relax back into the loving warmth of his embrace. They lingered there for a long moment, enjoying the comfortable silence they shared in the soothing lap of tepid water.

"I was jealous," Cullen said suddenly.

Rory opened her eyes, her gaze focusing on her own knees poking up out of the water as she frowned in confusion. "What?"

"Of Pavus," he clarified awkwardly. "He's a handsome man; confident, charming, nearer to your age -"

"And not interested in me in the slightest," she told him in a firm tone. "Honestly. If anyone should be worried about Dorian in this relationship, it's me."

"You?" Confusion reigned for a moment until Cullen caught up. "Did he tell you that?"

She chuckled tenderly. "He didn't have to," she said with absolute honesty. I've screwed him as a human, an elf, a dwarf, and a Qunari; he really doesn't need to say a word. "He thinks you're - and I quote - delicious."

She didn't need to see Cullen's face to know that her lover's eyes were wide with mild panic. "But I ... he might be offended if ... what if he asks me?"

Rory twisted, tilting her head to look at him from the corner of her eye. "That depends," she teased affectionately. "Should I be worried?"

"No!" Cullen protested loudly, lowering his voice as she cackled at his eagerness to refute her teasing. "No. Even if I were that way inclined, I love you. I wouldn't, couldn't, do that to you."

"And he knows that," she promised him reassuringly. "He respects it. But that doesn't mean he isn't going to flirt outrageously just to see you squirm."

He cleared his throat in embarrassment. "I will endeavor not to disappoint." A quick smile touched his face as she kissed his jaw, settling into his arms once again. "If ... if he were interested in you," he asked hesitantly, "would you be tempted?"

"Probably." She felt him tense at her unthinkingly truthful answer, rolling her eyes. "That doesn't mean I would do anything about it," she told him pointedly. "As you said, he's handsome; he's confident and charming, and he knows how to use it. But he's not you. No one will ever be you. I love you, remember? It would never happen. I have everything I want right here."

He relaxed against her, his momentary concern eased away by her forthright certainty that this was exactly where she wanted to be. "I'm sorry," he apologized lovingly. "It has been a long time since I've wanted this kind of peace with anyone. I can't help being afraid of losing you."

"You're not the only one who's afraid of what," she assured him in a low murmur. "And you're not alone in having moments of irrational jealousy. Just ... don't act on them, all right? There's no guarantee that the next argument we have will end this well."

His gentle chortle warmed her ear. "I shall try not to make you that angry again," he promised fondly. "However sexy you looked facing me down over the map table." She felt him grin against her cheek as she blushed at the memory, at being called sexy by this man. "But we really should get out of this bath before the water turns cold on us."

"You may be right," she conceded, borrowing one of his favorite phrases to accede to his point. She surveyed the tight squeeze of their bodies in the big copper tub. Getting in had been hard enough. "How do we do that, exactly?"

Without any dignity, as it turned out. With Cullen's help, Rory succeeded in getting to her feet without stepping on anything precious, only to have her foot slip as she made to step out of the bath; her raised foot caught on the lip of the tub, and the slip sent her sprawling face first onto the bear-fur rug in front of the fire. Cullen made the mistake of trying to grab for her; between her sudden exit from the tub and his change in position, the bathtub tipped backward, disgorging him and most of the water onto the druffalo hide that covered the floor by the bed. Hardly the most attractive sight for either of them, but at least they didn't have any excuse to be embarrassed. This was hardly the worst they'd seen of one another. Rory couldn't stop laughing at her own glorious pratfall, and her unrelenting giggles meant that Cullen smiled with her as they dried off and slid into bed, eager to rekindle the warmth they'd already shared once tonight.

And maybe that was what they needed. Something passionate, something silly, something normal, theirs to share and bolster them against what was coming. Because tomorrow would bring problems that would only make Cullen's habitual headaches worse. The mages were due to arrive. And not even Rory expected that to go smoothly.

#set in darkness #multi-chapter fic #mgit #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #dai fanfic #cullen rutherford/original female character #cullen rutherford/rory allen #rory allen #cullen rutherford #bathtime #couple fluff #dorian somehow managed to be the third person in a non-existant marriage #silliness #love #fluff #cute