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welldonekhushi · 30 days

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Call of Duty OC: Katya Kovalevskaya 🌹

An updated bio sheet of Katya! The last one felt like it was straight Wiki format style, but doesn't really explain her character properly, I also added some changes to her character as well so, here you go! <3

GENERAL:

Name: Katya

Full name: Yekaterina Viktornovna Kovalevskaya

Codename: "Katyusha"

Alias(es): Lady of Death (by the Red Army), Mama Katya (by her soldiers), Der Russische Leutnant (by the Germans)

Age: 32 years old (Call of Duty: World at War), 58 years old (Call of Duty: Black Ops), 70 years old (Black Ops: Cold War)

Gender: Female

Nationality: Russian

Languages spoken: Russian, German (for intelligence purposes), English

Date of birth: June 15, 1916

Place of Birth: Ural Mountains, Imperial Russia

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Martial Status: Single

Occupation: Senior Lieutenant and Sniper of the Red Army (retires after the events of the first Black Ops)

Status: Active

Rank: Senior Lieutenant (1942), Lieutenant Colonel (1945)

Affiliation: Red Army, CIA (briefly)

Universe: Call of Duty: World at War, Call of Duty: Black Ops, Black Ops: Cold War (alternative AU)

Faceclaim: Anna Chipovskaya

Song: "Katyusha" by Boris Alexandrov

youtube

Biography: Yekaterina, commonly known as Katya joins the Red Army for the service of the Soviet Union to avenge her parents death under the hands of German forces. While defending her country amidst the raging Second World War, she faces tremendous amounts of obstacles and barriers in her life which often try to make them as her weakness, but the woman was sworn to take her last breath in achieving one goal with her comrades — and that was liberating Berlin.

AFFILIATIONS:

3rd Shock Army (Red Army)

Sergeant Viktor Reznov [K.I.A]

Private Dimitri Petrenko [K.I.A]

Private Chernov [K.I.A]

Commissar Markhov [fate unknown]

Major General Nikita Dragovich [K.I.A]

Colonel Lev Kravchenko [fate unknown]

CIA (Call of Duty: Black Ops)

Alex Mason

Frank Woods

Jason Hudson

Grigori Weaver

SKILLS AND ABILITIES:

Weapon induced: Scoped Mosin-Nagant, Tokarev (TT-33), PPSh-41, Molotov Cocktail, RGD-33

Fighting style: Hand-to-hand combat, but rarely, since she's more used to being a sniper giving covering fire

Special skills: Is a very experienced sniper, that gave her the infamous name of "Lady of Death", but Katya didn't want to coin such a name for herself when she was only serving her people as a soldier of the frontlines.

Talents: Knows natural remedies, holds a lot of empathy for others, can speak fluent German even if she knows a little bit of it

Shortcomings: Due to the incident, she lost her face partially along with the half-vision of her eye throughout the accident, faces survivors guilt, is a bit mentally depressed but she's able to push those negative thoughts down

PERSONALITY:

Myers-Briggs Type: ISFJ (The Defender)

Is very protective towards her comrades: Ever since she lost her parents, Katya had always been searching for a way to cope up with her loss by taking care of the people she loves and believes in the most. Even if she never married, or birthed a child, she automatically unlocked her motherly instincts by calling her comrades as her "sons and daughters", considering them as her one, found family.

Ruthless, but at times merciful: Katya has shown immense strength and courage in the battlefield as a sniper and a squad leader, haunting the Germans in their own sleep thinking Katya wouldn't kill them and make the mattress they're sleeping on as their deathbed. But also, when Katya wants to show mercy, she'll show it. She thinks there's no use to wasting her own bullets on someone who already decided to surrender to the Red Army.

Emotional: Let it be a soldier dying, or a civilian, she'll ask forgiveness from God that she wasn't able to save an innocent despite having the duty to protect her own people. The incident that killed all of her soldiers left her deeply scarred, and believed she committed a bigger sin for being too naive and careless, and she deserved the impact on her face. It was even worse when Nikita Dragovich killed her teammates again by putting them as test subjects for the Nova 6 experiment that made her grow deranged and bloodthirsty to hunt Dragovich and his lapdog, Kravchenko in a fit of vengeance, until the CIA caught her presence.

Intelligent and observant: Katya is more aware of her surroundings ever since the incident impacted her, which caused her to be very vigilant, and grew her intelligence in the battlefield which made her useful for the Red Army as a sniper and as a squad leader in the infantry.

BACKGROUND STORY

Katya was born around 1916 with her mother Elizaveta Kovalevskaya (neé Petrova) and father, Viktor Kovalevsky. Spending her childhood in the Ural Mountains, she learnt how to snipe at a young age from her father, who was a hunter, the reason why she took her father's skill in the field of sniping.

In 1939, she recruited herself in the Red Army as a sniper, in which her talent gave a huge role and reputation among the soldiers as a source of bravery, courage and inspiration, that gave her the name "Lady of Death". But, Katya on the other hand didn't want to coin such a name for herself when she believes she's only doing it for the protection of her own people.

But, in 1941, when Germany attacked Soviet Russia under "Operation Barbarossa", her village became a victim of the attacks, which ended up killing her family in the process. Broken and enraged, Katya wanted to avenge her parents death by going through missions and eliminating every single enemy who tried to cross the Soviet borders. Her life completely changed when one day she encountered General Heinrich Amsel, who was responsible for the death of her family along with many others, wanted to kill him by her own hands but never succeeded because he evaded before she could get to him.

Furious, the General wanted to eliminate Katya in her path, by luring her into a trap that he was staying at a hotel and could grab her an opportunity to end his life there. But little to her knowledge, it was all a set up, when he used that entire building as a decoy with the explosives attached. His soldiers locked away his teammates, including Katya but she was able to break through it. In a desperate attempt to find her comrades who were still locked inside, it was too late before the explosion could take effect, and blew her out of the building, leaving her drastically injured.

The explosion was the turning point of her life, where it emotionally scarred her and made her regret being a soldier, when she couldn't even protect her own soldiers, who basked into the flames of Amsel's planned explosion. She was taken for medical assistance, which took her a month to recover physically, and mentally. But, that didn't stop Katya from retiring, as her mind still revolved around that one goal — to eliminate General Amsel, and push all the German forces back from invading Russia.

Somewhere around 1942, she was promoted to Senior Lieutenant, and became the squad leader for the 3rd Shock Army, and participated in the Battle of Stalingrad alongside Pvt. Dimitri Petrenko and Sgt. Viktor Reznov. As the General's whereabouts were found, she led her team throughout the warzone and successfully countered Amsel, which led to his untimely death under the hands of Dimitri's sniper rifle. Katya, who held immense pride for the Private for doing something she couldn't, made him along with Reznov and Chernov as her closest comrades.

After the entire battle, in 1945, they finally achieved victory by liberating Berlin by hoisting the Soviet flag on the Reichstag, Katya was now at peace, hoping for a better future after the war's end.

But, somehow.. her life was going to go into a bigger turmoil, when she gets sent to the mission around the Arctic Circle, leading the events of the first Black Ops.

#oc #oc story #oc biography #original character #ww2 oc #russian oc #red army #soviet union #cod #call of duty #cod waw #cod bo #call of duty world at war #call of duty black ops #call of duty oc #katya kovalevskaya #character profile #original character profile #oc profile

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elisabethrosewrites · 4 months

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When a writer gets to whumping...

It has been a while since I have attempted to actively post my own writing on here. But after a mostly successful NaNoWriMo attempt, and an overall increase in my whump writing, I have decided to take the leap... again. I have been a lover of whump for longer than I have known the name, and a writer of whump probably since I first started.

What you'll find here: - vampire whump - sibling whump - heavy caretaking - plenty of queer characters - creepy/intimate whumpers - smut - NSFW whump

What you won't find: - pet whump or BBU - heavy gore - whump without some form of caretaker - lady whumpee/whumper - major character death

Blog Masterlist:

A Dance of Stars and Curses- (primary WIP)

Tropes: M/M/M Relationship, two vampires and a human, fated mates, reincarnation, ex-lover whumper, NSFW whump, vampire whump, smut

Content warnings: kidnapping, manipulation, character death (with reincarnation), slavery, graphic noncon, as well as graphic consensual sex, mentions of past child abuse, general vampire whump (starvation, forced turning, hurt mates, etc.)

Synopsis:

Moments of spare happiness, that was all they had every been afforded. Oliver had not meant to fall for two human blood servants but when he rejected his noble-born mate, Merrick, it was with those two humans that he found happiness. His claim to them did not last. Merrick seeks them out and within hours takes away all that Oliver has come to call his. He forcibly changes one of his mates and places a soul-binding curse on the other. Forcing Oliver to play a cruel game in which he keeps one mate for eternity and watches the other slip through his fingers over and over by Merrick's hand.

In the present day, Oliver and his vampire mate, Leo, have made a sworn promise that when they find their mate this time, it will be the last. They will not lose their mate again. But Merrick is not ready to give up their game, even as the soul of their mate grows weaker. As Oliver and Leo race to find a way to break the soul-binding reincarnation spell on their mate and fight off Merrick, they may lose more this time than they bargained for.

Characters: Oliver Hallowspire Leo Hallowspire Christopher "Kit" Riley Merrick Nightfell Viktor Netherlight Ben Riley Ezra of House Hallowspire Althea "Thea" Hallowspire Orion of House Hallowspire

Main Story: Cornered in an Alley Pt.1 / Cornered in an Alley Pt. 2 / Rescued /

Snippets: Flashbacks / Visions / Sunlight /

#whump #whump blog #whump intro

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stiingrayyyy · 2 years

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Just You and Me, B.H.

Just You and Me

Pairings — Ben Hargreeves x GN!Reader

Summary — Ben didn’t know how long he had left to live, he didn’t get to say everything he wanted to tell you.

Warnings — swearing, mild angst towards the end, mention of death, tell me if I missed any <3

A/N — this is my first official post on tumblr! I’m sorry to the ones who wanted the heavy angst but that’s not until part two (if you want a second part). This is a different writing style than what I’m used to, please give any constructive criticism. Y/n’s pronouns are they/them and Klaus’s pronouns are he/they.

Being Reginald Hargreeves's child isn't easy. Constant training, missions left and right, it all seems endless and you'd never have a normal childhood. His children have several ways of coping.

Klaus sneaks out of the house to go to parties, intoxicating himself with liquor and weed.

Luther and Allison spend too much time together to forget and run away from responsibilities.

Viktor plays violin because he was convinced he was ordinary, powerless, and different from his siblings. This made him question why Reginald had him to begin with.

Diego distracted himself with anything he could. He would go out and look for conflict just so he could end it and save the day. He needed action, he needed something to keep his mind racing so he won't worry about his home and relationship with his father. He needed praise to feel validated, some would say he has and is experiencing some sort of hero syndrome.

Ben? He loved to paint and sketch. He would lock himself in his room for hours just to be alone to create art. There were papers taped to the wall, canvases hung from several of his works.

"I don't understand the craze with glazed donuts. I really don't." Klaus bit into a fresh jelly donut, rolling his eyes back as he savoured the flavour that exploded into his mouth.

The children escaped again.

They snuck out to have donuts and coffee. It was tradition, and somehow they get away with it. Every 12th of the month at 10:00pm they would leave the house and walk to Griddy's Doughnuts.

"Glazed donuts are amazing. They're simple yet sweet," Ben defended his regular order, taking small bites to properly enjoy the donut while he watched Klaus finish his in two bites.

"That's disgusting." Allison laughed, eying her sibling.

"What's wrong with it?" Klaus licked their fingers, downing their cup of coffee all in one. "It's less messy that way."

"No, it isn't!"

Ben began to slowly drown out the sounds of his siblings arguing. His attention made its way across the cafe, his gaze falling upon a teenager who sat alone at a booth. He could've sworn he's seen them before, he could've sworn they met, but at the same time, he knew for a fact that this was his first time laying his eyes on you.

"..Ben? Ben? Earth to Benerrino!" Klaus waved their hand in front of him and he finally snapped out of it when you looked back at him.

"Sorry?" Ben blinked a few times, looking at his sibling as he held his cup of tea in both his hands.

Klaus raised an eyebrow, looking back to see what Ben had been staring at. A smile was brought to his face when he turned back to look at Ben, eyes going wide. "Ben! You think that person is cute, right?"

"Shh! Shh!" Ben clasped a hand over their mouth, glancing over at the teenager to see if they heard.

And sure enough, you did.

"I'm flattered." You said, earning the attention of all six Hargreeves siblings. "Thanks, Ben."

Number Six seemed to stop working for a moment. His eyes widened as he stared at you in shock, face covered with a cherry red hue. "Y-Yeah. Yeah, you— yeah." He smiled and nodded, sipping from his cup as he turned away.

"Bennerino~" Klaus gave his brother a wink, sticking his tongue out as he paid for his snacks.

"Klaus!" Ben whisper-shouted, giving them a death glare as he finished his cup of tea. One after the other, each sibling finished, paid, and walked back home.

Ben couldn't help but spare a glance, looking back at you as he and his siblings exited the shop.

When he looked back at the path in front of him, he caught Klaus's stare in his peripheral vision. He gave them a scoff, rolling his eyes as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, darting away before Klaus could annoy him with their bickering.

— ( ☂︎ ) —

Being Reginald Hargreeves's child isn't easy. Constant training, missions left and right, it all seems endless and you'd never have a normal childhood. His children have several ways of coping.

Klaus sneaks out of the house and attends teenage parties while doping and drinking himself silly.

Allison and Luther spend inordinate amounts of time together letting their responsibilities slip their minds.

Viktor plays the violin because he believes he is unexceptional, weak, and distinct from his siblings. He knows he's different and every day he asks himself why Reginald chose to keep him, or why Reginald even took him in the first place if all Viktor ever got was neglect.

Diego tries to divert his attention from his family life in every way he can. He needs action to keep his mind active. He needs validation to keep going. He needs to be seen as a hero.

Ben creates art.

Ever since that day at the cafe, you didn’t leave his mind. He dedicated his free time to a new work of art. The inspiration was you.

His delicate fingers held the piece of charcoal in a gentle, yet firm grip. With every stroke, a distinct mark was left behind. He made each line unique from the one previously. His movements were smooth, not a muscle was tensed.

When he finished, he took a deep breath. The fresh oxygen from his open window filled his lungs before escaping his lips, dusting off the excess charcoal on the page. Ben smiled at his piece, gliding the tip of his index finger along the jawline of the teenager on the paper.

It was you, the one from the cafe.

He looked out the window. He watched as the sun painted the molten sky with various reds and oranges along with dashes of purple and pink. It was a work of art within itself.

He glanced over to the clock on his wall, then back out the window. He carefully rolled the drawing in his hands, stepping outside of the window and using his tentacles to make his way down onto the grass.

He looked behind himself, searching for any sign of life through the windows of the Hargreeves Mansion. When it was clear, he ran out of the gate.

Ben sat at Griddy's Doughnuts, a cup of tea placed in both his hands while a glazed donut sat in front of him on a ceramic plate.

"You're alone?"

Ben snapped out of his thoughts, looking at the owner of the voice.

"Yeah," he responded.

Agnus knew the Hargeeeves siblings would always come in packs, she found it strange how there was only one of them at the counter. "Are you okay? Did something happen?"

Ben smiled. "Nothing bad, no. Thank you for asking, though." He hadn't remembered the last time someone asked him if he was okay and meant it. The question was simple, but hearing the sincerity behind it was enough to make him smile.

He sat there and waited. The drawing was by the plate, and he began to ponder; he began to overthink. He hadn't talked to you and he already drew you. He didn't have bad intentions, but he didn't want it to come off as creepy. He began to have second thoughts, like he was doing something wrong.

Ben finished up his tea and donut. He grabbed the drawing and placed some coins on the table before leaving the cafe. His head was down, almost ashamed even though he did nothing wrong. He pushed the door open and collided with someone.

He gasped and dropped the piece of paper and watched it fly away in the subtle breeze. Before he got to react, someone grabbed it. He looked at the person and froze.

"Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going." You sheepishly smiled. The paper was unrolled you looked at it.

"I am so sorry." Ben bowed down to show respect. "I know it might be creepy but I promise I'm not a creep. I mean no harm, I just- I just thought that you were—"

"Cute?" You recalled what Klaus called you.

Ben stood up straight, looking at you with cherry-stained cheeks. He said nothing, not denying nor confirming the assumption.

"That's what your brother said last week." You scanned the piece of art, a 'wow' falling under your breath before you handed it back. "You're talented. I can't even draw a straight stick figure. I envy you."

"You? You envy... me?"

"Yes."

"You don't think I was being creepy?"

"No, not at all."

"Are you sure?"

"Stop overthinking it, Ben." You took a step towards the door of the cafe. "I hope to see you around more often."

Ben stilled as the corners of his lips formed a smile. He nodded, then his expression dropped, watching you walk into the shop. "Wait! What's your—"

"Y/n."

Ben paused, "Y/n?"

"That's my name."

The smile returned to his face, "thank you."

You waved, finally walking through the doors and sitting at his usual spot by the window. You looked at Ben, an instant smile lit up your face when he looked back. You held a hand up and waved, earning a rather excited wave back. You began to wonder if you would ever get a moment with Ben, even if it was just to sit together and have coffee; as friends. "There's nothing wrong with having a glazed donut."

— ( ☂︎ ) —

"See, Klaus? Even Y/n agrees that glazed donuts are amazing." Ben defended his favourite treat, biting out of the freshly glazed donut.

"I said there's nothing wrong with a glazed donut. I didn't say they were amazing." It didn't take long for you to get along with the Hargreeves siblings. Especially when Klaus kept nagging Ben to invite you.

"Ha! Y/n agrees with me!" Klaus slammed his hand against the table.

"Hey, woah, woah. I didn't say that either!" You laughed along with the others, heart filled with joy and happiness. You didn’t remember the last time you hung out with other teenagers and felt like you belonged.

"Guys, we should head out." Allison said, "it's getting late. Ben hurry up, it's two more bites. Today is on me." She pulled her wallet out.

"I can pay for my own. Thank you, though, Allison." You only had a chocolate donut. You were smart enough not to have caffeine pumping in your veins before bed.

"You guys can go out, I'll meet you there." Ben looked at you, then Klaus. Klaus smirked back, to the point where their ears began to lift.

You thought you were included in the 'you guys', so you shuffled around to get your wallet back in your pocket. Ben noticed this and quickly took your wrist.

"Not you." He spoke firmer than he intended, "please." His voice softened as he let go of your wrist, bashfully looking at the bottom of his glass while he took another bite of his donut.

You locked eyes with him, then you fell silent, sitting back down with cheeks tinted pink. “Why me?”

Ben turned away again, it was just his timid nature, this boy can never keep eye contact for too long without freaking out. “I was wondering… maybe on Friday we could meet up again?”

“This Friday? I thought Luther had something important coming up. His personal training with your father? That poor guy is going to overwork himself all day…” you looked out the window to look at the Umbrella Academy’s number one. “So we’re just gonna leave him out? If he finds out he’ll be heartbroken.”

“No, uhm…” Ben tapped the edge of his cup. “I was actually hoping it would be us? Just you and me.”

“Just you and me?” Your eyes seemed to light up the second he spoke. The most foolish smile crawled onto your face as you nodded. “Yeah.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.” You nodded, “I would love that. Just you and me.”

Ben’s heart beat out of his chest. Oh, he was such a loser in love. He nodded frantically, finishing the rest of his donut quickly. He covered his mouth as he chewed, shy and polite. He then made his way outside.

“Ready?” Allison motioned for the others to follow her as Luther walked by her side, leading the siblings back to the mansion.

“I’ll see you! Friday at noon!” Ben walked with his siblings with a hand in his pocket, the other one waving goodbye.

“Friday! Noon!” You carried through with his energy and waved back. Then you turned on your heel and went home.

— ( ☂︎ ) —

“You’re not going to get in trouble, will you?” Your cup of coffee was finished about an hour ago. An hour ago was also when you and Ben agreed to go back home and call it a day. You didn’t even recall how the conversation kept going, but it did.

“I should be fine,” Ben glanced at the clock, then back at his empty plate that once had two donuts on it. His signature glazed donut and your vanilla-sprinkled one. You got a different donut each time you came. “Thank you for coming with me today.” Words couldn’t express his gratitude, “I’m not saying that I don’t like coming here with my siblings, it’s just… good to have a real friend.”

Your heart warmed at his words, “thank you for asking me out, Ben.” You placed a hand atop his. “I really enjoyed spending time together; just you and me.”

“Do you think…” he began, “..we can see each other again? Only if you want to, that is. There’s no shame in rejecting, I don’t want you to feel obliged to say yes or anything—“

“Yes.” You said with confidence, laughing at the way he began to ramble. “I’d love to, Ben.” You gently gripped his hand, “the second date is always better than the first.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, mind empty. All he focused on was the way you hand your hand placed on his. As seconds passed, the words finally registered. “Wait, second date? This— th-this was a date?”

You instantly took your hand away, “that was my impression. I’m so sorry if I assumed wrong. I should’ve asked.” You felt foolish. You felt as though you were making bold assumptions and you read him wrong. Your ego was making the decisions. “That’s embarrassing.” You laughed it off.

“No, no! There’s nothing wrong with this being a date!” Ben grabbed both of your hands, holding them with a delicate grip. “It actually makes all of this ten times better.”

“Really?” A wave of relief washed over you as you emitted a soft sigh. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to lie to spare my feelings. I was getting a bit too ahead of myself.”

“I’m not lying,” he brushed his thumb over the back of your hand. “I mean every word.”

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach. Never once has anyone made you feel this weak in the knees. “Thank you, Ben.”

“Just know that I would never lie to you. Ever,” he moved his hand, linking his pinky with yours as if he was a seven-year-old boy. “Promise.”

The gesture was so small, so childish, “alright, then.” But this pinky promise held a special place in your heart. “Promise.”

— ( ☂︎ ) —

“Can we just stay like this?” He sat beside you on top of a building with the city beneath you. “It’s so much better up here.”

“Don’t you have a training session with your father?” You looked at him, “and you can’t miss it because that’s how you’re supposed to spend the rest of your day?”

Ben didn’t return your gaze, he just looked down at his lap with his legs swinging back and forth on the edge, “..yeah.”

“And if you don’t show up, you’ll get in trouble and he’ll get mad.”

“I know,” his voice was barely over a whisper.

“So… you should go back. I don’t want you to get in trouble with your father.” You carefully took his face in your hand, tipping his head up to look at you. “It’s okay, Ben. I’ll be fine. You can go.”

“It’s just—“ Ben sighed, shuffling around to get comfortable now that he was facing you. “I don’t want to go. If I do, he’s going to make me kill again.”

“Kill?”

He nodded, “and I don’t want to keep doing it.”

You were at loss for words. You couldn’t tell him to ‘not go’, it was his father and he couldn’t just avoid him. You noticed how he began to tremble, his hands shook along with his quivering lip. “Ben.” You held his hands, “you can drop by my place after.”

“It’s going to be late. Your parents won’t notice?” His voice rose in volume, “I-I don’t want to get you in trouble. It’s an inconvenience. It’s fine, I’ll just see you next week. It’s fine, I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll keep my window open for you.”

“No, no. You don’t have to do that. I told you, I’ll be fine.”

“If you say so,” you rubbed your thumb over the top of his hand. “I’m still going to keep it open. Just in case.”

How did he get so lucky? If someone told him one month ago that he’d make a friend that cared about him as a person rather than a member of the Umbrella Academy, he wouldn’t believe you.

“Okay,” he shot you a smile.

That smile never failed to warm your heart. “Now get us down, Benny Boy.”

He slithered his arm around your waist and you secured your hands on his shoulders. Tentacles sprouted from his back and he safely took you down the building.

“I’ve got you,” he noticed how you held onto him with a deathly grip. “I’m not gonna let you go.”

“You better not,” you laughed, burying your face into the crook of his neck with closed eyes. You took a deep breath, taking in the comforting scent that lingered in his skin and clothing.

When he made it to the ground, he ran his fingers through your hair. “You can let go now.”

You reopened your eyes, looking at the boy. The proximity was close, breathtaking. “What if I don’t want to?” You thought out loud, realizing only when his tanned cheeks tinted red.

“Then that wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” You could feel his subtle breath on your skin.

You moved a hand from his shoulder to his chest, “your heart is beating a mile a minute.” You teased.

“Who’s fault is that?” He teased you back, leaning in closer. His eyes fixated on your lips for no more than a ninth of a second before looking back at your eyes.

“Mine,” you admitted with no shame. With every passing second, Ben inched closer to your face. You looked at his lips, then his eyes as you leaned closer to him.

“I’ve never done this before,” he whispered.

“Neither have I.” You matched his tone..

“May I?”

“May you, what?” You teased him once again.

Ben paused, his breath trembled and you felt it. “May I kiss you?”

“You may.”

“Ben!” The boy was taken away from your grasp. “Dad’s been looking for you! He’s not in the best mood today, Benerrino. You know to never keep the old man waiting!”

You couldn’t even say anything, Klaus had already run off with their brother. The only thing you got was Ben’s glance back. He looked as if he was apologizing with his eyes, a deep frown engraved on his face.

“Klaus!” Ben ripped his wrist out of their grip.

“You know how strict dad is. I don’t want him to get mad at you.” He looked back, he saw you turn and walk away. “Oh shit.” He whispered under his breath, “Ben, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” His tone was sharp enough to kill. “Let’s just go see dad.”

— ( ☂︎ ) —

You haven’t left your room since you arrived home. You were still salty about the episode earlier with Ben and Klaus. You kept your word and left the window open in case Ben dropped by, but time was ticking.

11:11pm.

Curfew at the Umbrella Academy was two hours ago, so you assumed that Ben wasn’t coming. You swung your legs off the edge of your bed and slowly made your way towards the window.

“Y/n?”

“Ben?” You called out, moving your curtains out of the way. “Holy shit,” you held your hand out and helped him inside. “Careful, don’t sit on the bed.” You kept your voice in a low whisper.

He didn’t speak, he only nodded.

You rushed out of your room to grab a cloth then pulled the wooden chair from your desk when you got back. “Sit here, it’s okay. Just relax.”

“How do you expect me to relax?” His voice instantly broke as tears pooled at the bottom of his eyes. “I’ve been trying to relax, for- for the past two hours!” He was careful not to raise his voice too much.

“Are you hurt?“ You used the cloth to wipe the blood off his hands.

He shook his head.

“Did he hurt you?”

“Not physically.”

“Are you… okay?”

He shook his head, “not emotionally.”

Silence lingered in the air as you washed the blood off his skin. When you finished with his hands you went to his neck, then his face. You stopped for a moment, taking this time to cup his cheek. Ben leaned into your touch, shutting his eyes and placed a hand on top of yours. Tears silently trickled down his cheeks as he took in the comfort of your hand. You began to gently wipe the damp cloth over his blood-stained cheeks.

“Do you think I’m a monster?” He looked at you.

“No,” you stated with confidence, “no you’re not. You’re no monster. It’s not your fault. Your dad made you do it, you didn’t have a choice.” You reassured him the best you could. You’re okay now. You’re safe here.” You whispered sweet affirmations. “Thank you for choosing me, tonight.” When you finished, you placed the cloth on your desk. “I’m glad that you’re here with me, Ben.”

“Me too,” he moved away from your hand and stood up. His eyes didn’t leave yours, not once. “Can I have a hug?” A sob slipped past his lips with his words. You didn’t say anything, instantly leaning into his chest and wrapping your arms around him. He began to cry as he returned the embrace, crumpling your shirt up in his hands.

“I’m here, Ben. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You make me feel safe.” He whispered into your hair, “when I’m with you, the rest of the world melts away. Like nothing else matters but you and me.”

Those butterflies came back. They fluttered in your tummy with excitement and wonder.

“Hey, Y/n?”

“Yes?” You pulled away from the embrace but kept your hands on either side of Ben’s body. You didn’t want to let go of him, not yet.

“I’m really happy that you’re in my life.” He brushed a few strands of hair out of your face. “Being with you makes me feel stronger, and I wish you could see yourself the way I do. Because I can’t think of any word that comes close to the way you make me feel.”

You were at loss for words. You wanted nothing more than to hold him in your arms and keep him safe, away from his stupid excuse for a father. “I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay,” his hand rubbed your side. “You don’t have to say anything.” He looked at your lips, “you’re perfect.” His stare dallied before darting up into your eyes. “May I?”

“Yes,” you closed the gap, wrapping your arms around his neck as he engulfed your body with ease. In that moment, it was as if the world stopped spinning; like nothing else in the world mattered.

The kiss lingered, and Ben began to move his lips, slowly running his hands down your body. He held your hips in a soft grasp. Then he finally parted.

“Ben…” his name rolled off your tongue like a melody. You leaned in for another kiss, pushing him down on your mattress. He didn’t have time to react, toppling over with a giggle. “Please stay,” you gasped for air.

“Stay?” He kicked his shoes off and got comfortable on the bed, “are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” you gave him an extra pillow and laid next to him. “I want you to stay.” You snuggled up next to him.

“Hey, Y/n?”

“Mhm?”

“Can I be your boyfriend?”

Your smile lit up the dim room, “yes.” You gave him one last peck on the lips before closing your eyes to fall asleep. There was nothing more comforting than the feeling of his arms around your body, his hand running through your hair as you fall asleep.

But the next day when you awoke, he was gone.

— ( ☂︎ ) —

“Will you stay this time?” You asked for the millionth time as you laid on your boyfriend’s chest, taking a slow and deep breath as you shuffled around to get comfortable. “I want to wake up beside you this time.” The sleepiness was slowly taking over you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stay,” Ben whispered, “I couldn’t risk my dad catching me out. It was only recently he stopped putting cameras in our rooms, if even one of us gets caught, all of us are busted.” He was truly sorry. He wanted to wake up by your side. He wanted to wake up with you in his arms. But he couldn’t risk getting his siblings in trouble.

“Cameras in your room?” Your voice was groggy, you didn’t even pay attention to what he said, you stopped processing what he said after ‘cameras in our rooms’. “That’s messed up,” your words were slurring together.

“Sleepyhead, just close your eyes and rest. You need it.”

“Mnn…”

The sound of your gentle snores filled the darkened room. He fixed his position, looking down at you while keeping you secure in his arms. His lips formed a frown as he moved bits of your hair out of your face. He planted a delicate kiss on your forehead, sighing deeply, “God, I love you…” if he got caught, his father would be furious. He knows that he’d be forbidden from seeing you, and he didn’t want to risk it. He got himself in a mess, a lovely, wonderful mess. Things would be so much easier if he didn’t love you, but he didn’t regret a single thing. He’d choose you over his father in a heartbeat.

12:00am.

He needed to get home, so he did. He carefully placed you down on the bed, properly bringing your blanket to your chin. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart.” He whispered, pressing another kiss on your forehead. “I have to go.” He spoke as though you were awake though you were fast asleep. He walked towards the window, watching as you got comfortable in your slumber. He stood by the window and stared at you. He didn’t move, he didn’t turn away, he just stared at you with pure love. You were the first to treat him right, the first to take care of him out of the kindness of your own heart, the first to truly love him, yet he always left before the morning. Not once have you woken up to him by your side. Did he deserve you.

— ( ☂︎ ) —

“Ben?” You approached him and he and his siblings walked out of Griddy’s Doughnuts. It was their monthly sneak-out plan and for the first time in seven months, you didn’t tag along. “Sorry to bother you, I was going to the library, and… this was close by.”

“Going to the library? This late at night?” His eyes went wide, “it’s dangerous. You don’t know what kind of creeps are out there.”

“I’m fine, Ben. Really, I–”

“Ben, let’s go,” Luther called out.

“I need to go.” He made his way past you, but you grabbed his wrist. He turned to face you, effortlessly prying himself from your grasp.

“Can we go out on Sunday? Nothing fancy, just here.” You looked at the donut shop. “Griddy’s Doughnuts. You get the glazed donut and I’ll get the one with sprinkles?”

He squinted as he listened to you. You were being oddly specific, and it worried him. “No, sorry, I’m busy this Sunday.”

“How about Tuesday?”

“Ben! Let’s go!” Allison shouted.

“I need to go,” Ben took a few steps away from you. “I’m sorry. I’ll see you around.”

“I’ll see you–” midsentence and he was running off. “...around.” You ended up going on Wednesday, but not to Griddy’s Doughnuts. Instead you and Ben crashed in your room for the day. The second he stepped through the front door, the atmosphere changed. You didn’t know what it is, but it was heavier. It was mildly uncomfortable and you could tell Ben felt it too.

“You should go home.” Now you were laying on his chest like you always did whenever he came. You two snuggled up with each other whenever the sun began to set, that hasn’t changed. But today is different: the elephant in the room didn’t want to leave.

“It’s nine. A little early for me to leave, don’t you think?” He muttered into your hair. “Let me stay.” He remembered how you used to always ask him to stay, and now you were the one pushing him away.

You shrugged, “I’m feeling tired. I’m going to sleep early tonight.”

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” he brushed the back of his hand on your cheek before holding it.

“You never stay, anyways. It’s fine. Just go.” You moved away from his touch.

That was a first.

“What’s wrong?” Something was in the air before, he knew something was wrong, he knew you knew something was wrong. He acted on it first.

“Nothing.” You dismissed it.

“Y/n, you know you can talk to me.”

You shook your head, pursing your lips as you felt the tears begin to form in your eyes. “We barely see each other anymore,” you muttered, “when we do it’s… awkward. It’s not the same as before.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” He shut his eyes, sighing heavily. “I should’ve talked to you earlier. Shutting you out probably wasn’t the best idea.”

“What’s going on, Benny Boy?”

“Us being together… is risky. Especially with my strict dad and all. I feel like I should’ve thought about that before foolishly asking you out.” He couldn’t bear to look at you.

“What are you…” your voice trailed off into utter silence. You looked at him, desperately wanting to meet his gaze. “...what are you implying?” The second those words left your mouth, you wished they didn’t.

“I love you,” Ben began. “I may be seventeen, I may be young, and people say kids like us don’t know what love is. But I know that I really, really love you. You’re the first to see me as who I am. Not just some boy with powers, not the boy in the Umbrella Academy, not Number Six, but you see me as Ben.” He glanced down at you for a moment, but he couldn’t stand that mere second of your pained expression. “I love you, Y/n,” he caressed your arm with his hand, “but if my dad finds out we’re together, he’ll stop us from seeing each other. I’m mistreating you, we don’t see each other as often as we used to because I’m playing it safe. It’s unfair, and you deserve better.”

“Ben, I can wait. I can wait as long as I need to. It’s okay. I don’t mind, I know you’re busy,” you sat up straight, hand gripping his bicep. “I can wait.”

“I don’t want to do this, but it’s better for us to take a break.” His heart sank the moment he finished, finally looking at you. “I’ll come back. When I’m eighteen I can get a bit more freedom. Then we can start seeing each other again.”

You turned away when he looked at you, shaking your head slowly as tears fell from your eyes. You didn’t want this, but you were mature enough to know that he was right. He was in the Umbrella Academy, he has powers, and he isn’t a normal kid. He’s different and you recognized that. You just wished that things were different.

“So… until you’re eighteen, we can’t talk?”

“I didn’t say that,” Ben reassured you, keeping you close. He didn’t want to let go. He felt that if he did, then he’d lose you for good. “I’ll still come by and visit. You can come to Griddy’s Doughnuts with me and my siblings. I’m still going to be here.” He pulled you for a quick yet passionate kiss. “I’m still going to be here, I promise.”

“You better be,” you laughed off your sadness, wiping the tears off your cheeks. “Just stay until I fall asleep. You can go home after.” You closed your eyes and snuggled up to his body warmth. “I love you, Ben.”

“I love you too,” he took slow deep breaths, adjusting his posture for better comfort as he held you.

— ( ☂︎ ) —

You haven’t seen him in two weeks. Not a word from Ben. You kept your window ajar and the lock flipped up. You gave him opportunities to see you, but he hadn’t taken any of them yet. You tried to understand, but you didn’t expect any of this to happen. He promised he’d still be there, but you hadn’t seen him. The two weeks stretched out to three and three turned into four. You showed up at Griddy’s Doughnuts from time to time, and there was no sign of him. You gave up. You didn’t want to wait any longer. He left and didn’t have the heart to properly break it off so instead, he gave you false hope.

That was until October 1st rolled around. You spent the day off at home alone. Your parents were working, busy with their jobs. It was like any regular old day.

Or so you thought.

The knock from your front door bounced off the walls. This day was the last and only day that you had hopes for.

Today was the day Ben turned eighteen.

You rushed to the front door, swinging it open with a smile, “hey, Klaus! Happy birthday!” You stepped out and looked left and right. “Is Ben with you?”

“Not exactly,” Klaus rocked back and forth between his heels and toes. “Can I come in?”

“Yes, of course. Come on.” You ushered them inside, “where’s Ben?”

“Uh…” he took a seat on the couch, motioning for you to sit across from him. “It’s kind of complicated.” He took a heavy breath, scratching the back of his neck as he tried to find his words.

“Just spit it out already,” Ben said, leaning against the wall behind you.

Klaus glared at him.

“Something wrong?” You noticed his facial expression change, looking behind you before back at them.

“No, no, it’s all good. All good,” he leaned back, sighing once more. The atmosphere was dense, he kept looking back and forth between you two.

“Klaus!” Ben was getting impatient.

“Okay! Okay!” Klaus sat up straight then leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Ben wanted to tell you that he’s sorry that he didn’t spend as much time with you as he promised.”

“Ben said that?” You leaned back, arms crossed over your chest. “Why couldn’t he tell me himself? Why did he send you?”

Klaus paused, mouth agape before pursing their lips. “He’s dead.”

He said that so nonchalantly that it didn’t process, “dead?” You scanned your living room, waiting for Ben to pop out from somewhere and tell you that it was some silly prank. “Funny, Klaus. Where is he?”

“No, Y/n you don’t understand.” His head fell into his hands. “Ben died on a mission two weeks ago.” He looked at the ghost that stood behind you, “and he’s sorry. He’s sorry since… y’know, he can’t be here with you. I don’t know why he’s so apologetic, it’s not his fault he died or anything.”

All of this was still too much to process. You were in shock, in heavy denial. “Ben?” You looked at Klaus as if they were a massive liar. “Like… Ben Hargreeves. He died? Two weeks ago?”

“Yeah,” they rubbed their hands together, frowning. “I’m sorry you found out this way.”

“No,” your voice instantly broke and tears spilled out of your eyes as if they were on command. You wiped the oncoming them away with the sleeves of your sweater. You tried to stop them but they kept going. The ache in your heart never stopped, it still hasn’t recovered from the last time you saw him. Hearing this news and knowing you wouldn’t see him again was heart-rending. “No, no, no. Klaus, you’re playing a sick game. You’re getting too good at this shit.” You laughed, leaning back on the couch with your sleeved hand over your eyes. “Please stop it, you little shit. This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not lying! Do you think I’d lie about something like this? My brother’s death? Y/n… it hurts me as much as it hurts you. Ben is gone.” Klaus stayed strong for you, he didn’t show signs of weakness or sorrow. They already spent all of that within the first week, they didn’t need to cry again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You buried your head in your hands, biting on your bottom lip to ease the pain and keep it together. “You've got to be fucking kidding me.”

Ben could see it. He could see how hard you tried to keep it in. He could hear the heartbreak in your voice and the pain in your body language. He moved from behind you to in front of you. He wanted all of this to stop, he wanted your suffering to end. Watching you lament felt like he was shot through the heart.

“I’m sorry,” Ben said, “I really am.” His voice quavered, “I wish things were different, but I did what I thought I had to do.” He reached out to touch your cheek, only for his hand to glow blue as it passed right through you. “If you could see yourself the way I do, then you’d know how much I love you. You’d know how sorry I am, you’d know how much I m-miss you.” He reached out again, but the same thing happened. “I’d do anything to hold you one last time.” He couldn’t bear to speak anymore, his voice cracked and he had to wipe the tears from his eyes. “You don’t deserve any of this.” But he kept talking. He hoped that a miracle would happen, he wanted you to hear him. “Y/n please… please, please. I love you. I love you, please I need you to know.” He reached out to pull you into an embrace, only to feel emptiness in his arms.

“Ben loves you,” Klaus said.

“I know.” You began to question your own statement. You began to question what Ben told you before he left. “Jesus Christ.” You whispered under your breath and stood up, walking right through Ben as you made your way out of the living room. “Klaus just- just leave.”

“But, Y/n—“

“Klaus leave.” Your voice was as sharp as a blade. “Don’t make me say it a third time.” You turned to them with slanted eyebrows. “Leave.”

“I’ll see you around, okay?” Klaus waved as he walked towards the exit. “I’ll see you some other day. Take care of yourself, please.”

You didn’t respond and walked to your bedroom. The second you got in there the door slammed shut. You slid down the wall and tried your hardest to control your breathing, but nothing you did could help. Your hands shook violently as a scream ripped your vocal cords.

Ben’s heart shattered. The agony behind your voice was enough to break him to pieces. He sat on the other side of the door with tear-stained cheeks. If he knew that four weeks ago would be the last time he’d hold you, he’d hold you tighter. If he knew that four weeks ago would be the last time he’d talk to you, he wouldn’t have stopped talking until the both of you were passed out. He would’ve stayed by your side until the sun rose and you opened your eyes.

— ( ☂︎ ) —

Being Reginald Hargreeves's child isn't easy. Constant training, missions left and right, it all seems endless and you'd never have a normal childhood. His children have several ways of coping.

Klaus sneaks out of the house to go to teen parties where he overindulges in alcohol and pumps drugs into his veins.

Allison and Luther lock themselves up in a room where they can be alone and undisturbed. This way they can forget about their responsibilities.

Viktor plays the violin because he isn’t special. He isn’t like his siblings, he’s powerless and weak.

Diego seeks attention. Any attention that validates him as a hero is enough to feed his ego.

Ben can no longer hold a pencil or paintbrush the way he used to. All he can do is watch his loved ones suffer and get hurt. Ben’s heart was broken, knowing that he passed on his misery and misfortune to the one he loved most.

Part two? If I write it, it’s going to be a bit more angsty, no fluff, and it’s going to be shorter (hopefully). Tell me if you want to be tagged.

I may or may not already have an idea.

tags: @xenijk @vivsmcdo

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sweetpeaches666 · 6 months

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Wanna talk about shapeshifter shattered glass sed, (he is my favorite character, but seriously, I want us both work on how this au and their personalities in this version would turn out, since some of them are your characters)

Okay so, since in the original world, sed has a strained relationship with Amun, because he blames him for his mom’s death, and him being neglectful father and grandfather.

But in both natural and bad shattered glass universe, since everything is the opposite, maybe Amun is a good father and grandfather to his family, sure his royal duties get in the way, but he still tried to be there for his family.

Since sed’s mom, urit. Wasn’t a good mom in both version of This au. (Like was she neglectful? Or abusive towards sed?)

Sed works for zs’skayr because he doesn’t want the plumbers land their corrupted galactic law system on his home planet, his dad already had difficulty shooing them away.

So sed has his own team of guards and agents who work against the plumbers, but he also helps zs’skayr out since he is more experienced with dealing with the plumbers.

When sed and the other anur system trios goes to earth to look for zs’skayr, the plumbers would try to target them since they are on earth (I got inspired on this part because of the Ben 10 dark mirror fanfic) while they did want to capture zs’skayr first, but they also wanted to capture sed, Jason and Victor to use them as hostages, and force their people to surrender

(What is your opinion? Please share it, I love sed, he is my favorite character in both your au and Ben 10, even if he got a little screen time in canon)

Honestly, yes. Sed has a somewhat better relationship with Amun in the Shattered Glass Universe than in the Prime Shape Shifting Universe is deeply sad if you think about it. Amun is a caring but flawed father whose royal duties keep him busy from spending time with his children and grandchildren.

Urit was neglectful towards Sed since she only saw him as a means to gain a position in the royal court, but would ignored his emotional needs in favor of her own.

Since Amun was trying to keep his people safe, Sed had taken it upon himself to ally with the other leaders of the Anur System despite not having a high chance of getting the throne.

However, despite this, Sed had managed to form a brotherly bond with Zs'Skayr, Viktor, and Jason. They sworn to always protect their homes from the Plumbers.

And even when the Plumbers tried to take all of them hostages, all four of them decided not to go down without a fight. They also know that if even if they'll be used as hostages, their people won't give up so easily and will fight back no matter what.

#ben 10 #ben 10 au #shape shifting ben #ben 10 oc #ben 10 the mummy #ben 10 sed #ben 10 amun #ben 10 urit #zs'skayr #dr viktor #ben 10 the werewolf #ben 10 jason #ask

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derelictheretic · 1 year

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Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton, @clicheantagonist and @baldurrs (Thank you!!) to list 5-10 songs that describe or relate to my fav otp/personal ship(s) ! Stuck to my fc5 ones for this <3

Tagging: @viktor-sinclaire @trashcatsnark @bluemojave @ishwaris @unholymilf @roofgeese @sukoshimikan @detectivelokis @strangefable @necro-hamster @deputyash @rejected-beater @jollybone @eur0paa-2 @i-am-the-balancing-point

I just went with 5 songs for each ship, I've been obsessed with Sleep Token recently so they have snuck into a few playlists lmao

Spotify

Clueless by Ellie Williams

Do you think she has seen i'm captivated by her speech?

Or is she clueless?

The Only Exception by Paramore

And up until now I had sworn to myself

That I'm content with lonlieness

I Love you but you make me cry by Elthia

You try to protect yourself

So I have to rip through you

I Wish I never Met You by Babygirl

I wish I knew forever would end so soon

I wish I never kissed you in my living room

Enemies by Lauv

Oh tell me, why did we throw away the love we had?

And tell me why do, why do we love to make it hurt so bad?

Spotify

River by Bishop Riggs

Shut your mouth, baby, stand and deliver

Holy hands, will they make me a sinner?

Obsessed With You by The Orion Experience

Your love is better than cocaine

I need you more than oxeygyn

Room For Two by Will Knox

If there is a heaven

I hope I go to hell with you

John My Beloved by Sufjan Stevens

I am a man with a heart that offends

With its lonely and greedy demands

Granite by Sleep Token

I was more than just a body in your passenger seat

And you were more than somebody I was destined to meet

Spotify

I love you baby by Surf Mesa, Emilee

I love you baby, and if it's quite alright

I need you baby, to warm these lonely nights

Dance Alone by Talya Parx

Left hand up, right hand on the bible

You walked in, I was dead on arrival

Angel of small death and the Codeine scene by Hozier

Feeling more human and hooked on her flesh

I lay my heart down with the rest at her feet

My Attic by P!nk

I will give you all my secrets

If you promise you can brave my attic

Lovefool by The Cardigans

Say that you love me

Fool me, fool me

Spotify

It Will Come Back by Hozier

Jesus Christ, don't be kind to it

Honey, don't feed it, I will come back

Once Upon a Dream by Lana Del Ray

And I know it's true, vision are seldom what they seem

But if I know you, I know what you'll do

Alkaline by Sleep Token

And she's changing me

It's too late for me now, I am altered

Deity by Valeree

I'll be your deity, fall to your knees

Oh, honey, pray to me between the sheets

Religion by ZAND

My angel's most polite

When I am on my knees

Spotify

Hit Me With a Kiss by Solo

And when he hit me with his kiss

I tasted whiskey on my lips

Persia by Until The Ribbon Breaks

If I can't be your prince

Then I like to whisper, I'd like to leave you in my fingerprints

Love Is A Weapon by Letdown.

It's just a masochistic love

I've got the push under your shove

I Go Hungry by Mother Mother

When I go hungry I go nail and tooth

When I go hungry, I go hungry, I go hungry

Puppy Pound by Jazmin Bean

Normally i'm no stray, you won't find me in the lost and found

So why'd you make me feel like I am in the goddamn puppy pound?

Spotify

Power by Isak Danielson

When you move, you make my oceans move too

If I hear my name I will run your way

I'll Keep You Safe by Sleeping At Last

Our mistakes, they were bound to be made

But I promise you I'll keep you safe

Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley

And Love is not a victory march

It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

The Summoning by Sleep Token

Oh, and my love

Did I mistake you as a sign from God

His Hands by Blegh

But you know I was still down on my knees

Like it was a religion

#misc: music #misc: tag game #ship: Pick Your Poison #ship: The Angels Baptist #ship: It Was Me and You Until it Wasn't #ship: Only Us #ship: In The Bliss #ship: Through Heaven's Eyes #I listen to the John/Dean and Jacob/Dean playlists the most they got my fave vibes

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drusjer · 1 month

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lever hillerska alltid kvar. a young royal.s verse. tw for drunk driving, car crash, and emotional abuse.

Fredrik-Adriaan "Fedde" Hafström. Second year. Son of Markus Hafström, a Swedish noble and childhood friend of Queen Kristina, and Princess Sarah of the Netherlands, a Dutch socialite-turned-royalty.

Fred's parents divorced when he was ten. His mother returned to the Netherlands and, within a year, was engaged to the heir apparent to the Dutch throne. Fred has three royal half-siblings, two of whom he has never met due to his rocky relationship with his mother. Intelligent and studious, Fred is Hillerska's top student.

The first year's hazing was a violent affair for Fred. Refusing to be humiliated and abused, Fred threw a punch at Viktor, the third-year student in charge. The punch triggered a short but nasty brawl. It was 2 vs 1. Fred vs Viktor and his friend. Riley Langebro, an older student, managed to break up the fight, but not before Fred had already caused permanent damage to Viktor's left eye. Though everyone had sworn to secrecy, a twisted account of the incident was spread throughout the school, painting Fred as the hateful instigator and Viktor as the innocent victim.

Riley "claimed" Fred by adding him to his circle. Infatuated, Fred let Riley pull him into his world of alcohol and drug-fueled parties. Even though they slept together many times, Riley was adamant that he wasn't sure if he was queer and guilt-tripped Fred into keeping their relationship a secret. One night, while at a party celebrating the start of their second year, Riley baited Viktor into a car race. Fred jumped into the passenger seat of Riley's car in an attempt to stop Riley from driving drunk but failed to stop him. Also drunk, Viktor veered into a ditch. Riley pleaded to switch seats with Fred before they called for help, worried he would get into trouble for driving under the influence. Viktor died a week later from his injuries.

Viktor's death weighed heavy on Fred. He began to miss school and isolated himself from the few friends he did have. His mental health only became worse when Riley revealed that he had intentionally caused Viktor's crash. Fred's father eventually withdrew him from the school, citing health reasons as the cause.

Fred is back at the school and repeating his second year when Wille starts at Hillerska. He's the main subject of gossip at Hillerska due to his disappearance from the school and fall out with Riley --- until the Wille and Simon video leak.

Random facts:

aspiring marine biologist.

he is on the rowing team. august and vincent ignore him most of the time. they tolerate him because he's one of the best rowers on the team.

he is often seen sitting alone, but sometimes he will hang around zafiya and bree, two quiet first years whom he has become very protective of.

#too lazy to properly proofread this rn good luck #but yeah it's pretty much his modern verse #the riley drama the bullying the disappearing from school everything #but yr flavored

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eddawrites · 1 year

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Arcane Rarepair Week prompt: First Meetings & Post-Canon

An excerpt for @arcane-rarepair-week from a Sevika x Viktor fic that I unfortunately haven't been able to finish yet due to life interfering and keeping me from doing important things that actually matter - like writing this fic.

Many thanks to @dontbotherwiththepronunciation for beta-ing. ——————————————

The first time she came by was a mere courtesy call. She scanned her surroundings, taking in the multitude of tables littered with rumpled papers, some of them sticking from the overstuffed drawers, another stack shoved unceremoniously under the leg of an exceptionally wobbly desk—most of them branded with the House Talis seal, she noticed. The rest of the clutter comprised of a leaking fountain pen and a short stub of a pencil, a banged up ruler, some scrap metal, hand-me-down lab equipment, a stained brass samovar, and inexplicably... an empty pickle jar?

“I could arrange something more… homely.” Sevika had said, looking around.

There wasn’t much by way of furniture in his little lair either. A pair of rickety chairs, an aged wooden closet where he kept his laser arm—the Hexclaw, he called it—tucked away, though calling it a closet would be generous, in reality it was hardly more than a couple of planks nailed together; a trunk with a rusted lock that held his few personal possessions, and in a secluded corner, an uncomfortable-looking, narrow bed with a metal frame that was all creaky old springs and chipped paint, a set of moth-eaten blankets and pillows lying atop of an old, musty mattress. Certainly a downgrade from the living standards he’d grown used to topside, she thought, wondering what could have possibly led him to return to Zaun, much less lodge in this dank pit of a building.

Eventually, one piece after another, she will replace his shabby furniture with something more dignified. Find a proper armoire—as the topsider peddler she bought it off of had called it—with doors that actually shut, and shelves that did not bend. She’ll get rid of that desk which wobbled with the slightest shift of weight. Add an armchair and a sofa with worn velvet upholstery, but seat cushions so soft you’d think you could drown in them. Most importantly, she’ll procure a bed that’s just a little wider, a little kinder to his back.

“I prefer to have my research at an arm’s reach. But… thank you, Sevika.” he replied politely. “You have been very accommodating.”

That was the first time he’d heard her laugh. A hearty guffaw resounding from deep within her chest, punctuated by a snort that he found oddly endearing. The joke had been wholly unintended on his part but he partook in her merriment all the same, infectious as the warm, smokey sound of her laughter was. Even at the risk of knocking his own wind out of his lungs.

“Any friend of Singed is a friend of mine.” she said, examining him with her eyes, black as void. “He’s vouched for you.”

“Singed?” he questioned, a small smirk playing on his lips. “A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Wasn’t my idea.”

His acute, yellow eyes flittered to the metal prosthetic that hung heavy at her side, then back to her face, peering at her with such intensity that she could’ve sworn he were reading her mind.

“Of course not,” he conceded at last. “You seem above such japes.”

Sevika decided then that she preferred him to the doctor.

***

Truth be told, Viktor was a heaven-sent. After Renni cut ties in the aftermath of her son’s death, and Smeech decided to follow her suit not long after, Sevika was in the market for a tinkerer. She was no slouch herself, but her mechanical skills were a far cry from someone like Jinx.

Ah, Jinx. Frankly, she was relieved by her disappearance. The girl was a whizz, but unstable. She had her reasons, of course, as many in the undercity did, and Sevika wasn’t in the habit of judging people by their quirks—her own colourful crew stood as proof of that. But Jinx was prone to self-sabotage as often as not and presented a liability Sevika was all too happy to replace.

Viktor, though, seemed to still be on the fun side of insane. It might’ve been his resume that had caught her attention, but it was the charm that kept her coming back.

Sometimes she even brings him treats. Brain fuel, she calls it, liquorice candies and chocolate-coated marzipan, pretzels and poppy seed cake. A pot of hot tea, or coffee that tasted like dirt to his topside-spoiled taste buds. Other times it would be a bowl of soup or fried rice. She tried to brush it off, pretend like it wasn’t a big deal to play caretaker to a mad scientist readily given to negligence.

“Here’s your payment.” she would say.

And he would resist, of course. “I didn’t ask for compensation.”

“You say you don’t need money, but you still need to eat.”

And if it was something sweet, he would retort: “These aren’t exactly nutritious.”

“It’s for eating, ain’t it?” she would insist. “Eat.”

And then she would plant herself in the ratty old armchair and watch him feed himself with slow, deliberate motions as if every single morsel exhausted him.

After all, it wasn’t unlike what she used to do for her old man returning piss drunk from his mine shift, late at night. She would take off his shoes, remove the soiled clothes and clean him with a washcloth before hauling him off to bed. In the morning, she would force hot broth down his throat, make sure he drank something other than spirits; that his clothes and sheets were clean, that he didn’t stink like a brewery.

Viktor was a cakewalk in comparison.

He doesn’t challenge it. There is a comfort to her visits. A periodicity—tangible proof of passage of time in the lightless room where a minute might be over in sixty seconds or drag for six thousand more.

The one time he did, he had told her, prosaic as ever: “I don’t need a caretaker.”

“No, you don’t.” she admitted. “You’re more than able. But you’ve got that machine of yours drip-feeding you that crap all day, every day. And I know what it does to your body. It makes you forget your limits, and things like hunger and exhaustion and even pain stop existing for as long as the effect lasts. But all of those things are still there, buried under that high. So consider my visits a reminder.” The other part of her motivation remained unspoken.

There was a logic to her words that he couldn’t counter.

#arcane #sevika #viktor #sevika x viktor #seviktor #arcane rarepair week #edda actually writes

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airadam · 6 months

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Episode 173 : ...after all this rain.

"...kick rocks or kick rhymes..."

- Jean Grae

The seasons are most definitely changing on this side, and the heavens have been pretty open the last couple of weeks while I've been putting the show together. Unfortunately during that time, we lost a couple of respected DJs and producers, DJ Mark the 45 King and Groove Damoast, both of whom are included in this month's mix. May they rest well. The selections for this month span a time period of almost fifty years, from a 1975 funk classic to a brand new release from one of Manchester's finest, making stops in the 80s and the independent Hip-Hop wax era of the 90s - something for all the heads!

Don't forget - you can always get an up-to-date list of my next few upcoming streams and gigs @ events.airadam.com!

Twitter : @airadam13

Twitch : @airadam13

Mastodon (because Twitter is basically on fire) : https://mastodon.me.uk/@airadam

Playlist/Notes

DJ Muggs, Roc Marciano, Meyhem Lauren, and Rome Streetz : 67 Keys

Two MCs I've seen live recently with another (Rome Streetz) I would have seen if it wasn't for work's on-call schedule, talking pure drug business over some thriller film-type production courtesy of DJ Muggs, who has constructed an amazing second act post the Cypress Hill classics that everyone knows him for. Everyone gets busy on the mic on this new single, with Meyhem killing that last verse.

David Cutter Music : Upstart

UK beat action here with this London beatmaker cooking up a quintessential boom-bap type of beat with a little of that DJ Premier flavour and heaviness - I might need to blend this with some M.O.P! Get this on the recently-released "Follow Dreams" LP.

MF DOOM : Lickupon

I went back to the "Viktor Vaughn Vaudeville Villain" LP after being gifted an amazing alternate cover for display recently, and this was a standout on my first listen in a while. The producers (Heat Sensor) work the same sample as Biggie's "Warning" but with all sorts of other stuff going on, and DOOM just goes nuts from beginning to end. Bars upon bars with no hook, purely the sounds of someone who loved to flip words every which way.

Doo Wop ft. Raekwon : Castle To Castle

You've got to be brave to hop on a track with the crime-rhyming slang master Raekwon if MCing isn't your full-time gig, but Doo Wop (one of Biggie's favourite DJs) gives a good account of himself here as well as holding down the production! A classic jazz sample is the basis for this track from "The State vs Doo Wop" which is also available on a 12" if you need the clean version and instrumental.

Little Brother ft. Rhymefest and Supastition : Do It To Death

A personal headphone favourite I could have sworn I'd already played on the podcast, but which somehow missed the selection for the last fourteen-plus years! All four MCs kill it, but my favourite is absolutely Phonte on the opening verse, with his "American Pie" reference never failing to make me smile! Focus... is on production and those drums are absolutely smacking here, making this track a highlight of "...And Justus For All".

Marley Marl : Hip-Hop History #4

Short and sweet, with a chunky and bouncing beat from the godfather of sampling as we know it today, and no rhymes - just a few words about his own history in Hip-Hop. Find this one on the 2000 "Hip Hop Dictionary" release, which I thought might be a big hard to find but is actually available digitally.

Kev Brown & Dre King : Black Champions

Tough, tough instrumental that I've had on repeat this month, taken from the seven-track "King Kev" project from these two musical masters. Dre King is, amongst other things, a sample pack producer who provides top-shelf instrumental pieces for producers to sample, and his work is used to great effect once Kev Brown gets it into his MPC. No hi-hits on this, just the kick and snare smashing through the whole beat, giving you little spaces where just the bass and keys play before the drums kick you in the head again!

Pharoahe Monch ft. Jean Grae and Royce Da 5' 9" : Assassins

An appropriately named track from the "W.A.R. (We Are Renegades)" album, with all three MCs fitting perfectly into the roles of Hip-Hop assassins (check the full version to get the intro), since none of them have ever encountered a beat they couldn't kill. M-Phazes is on the beat, and it's appropriately loud and dramatic - not something that blends into a mix naturally, because so many things don't sound quite like this.

[DJ Premier] Westside Gunn, Conway The Machine, and Benny The Butcher : Headlines (Instrumental)

I was surprised to find I hadn't played the vocal version of this Griselda track before, but DJ Premier's instrumental provides a nice bridge here between a track with no outro and one with too little drum intro - coming in hard with the aggressive stabs before transitioning into string-led production.

Redman : Bricks Standup

A short freestyle-ish expedition from Redman's "Ill At Will Mixtape Vol.1", which sees one of the all-time greats killing it over the instrumental for Jay-Z's "What More Can I Say?". That instrumental was produced by Brooklyn duo The Buchanans, who somehow cooked this up as one of their first creations and got it placed on "The Black Album" - talk about coming in hot!

Peanut Butter Wolf ft. Rasco and DJ Q-Bert : Run The Line

Taking it back to some late 90s underground Hip-Hop that brings back memories of the tail end of my time at university in Manchester, and especially the time when turntablism was starting to break out of the preserve of only the absolutely most in-the-know to the wider Hip-Hop world and beyond. Q-Bert obliterates it on the scratch as he does literally every single time, with all kinds of flaring action that might as well have come from outer space to many of us! Stones Throw founder Peanut Butter Wolf is on production of course on this track from his debut solo LP release "My Vinyl Weighs A Ton", and the all-California lineup is completed by Rasco on the mic. Cleveland-born, but as one of the Cali Agents...he counts.

Tyler Daley : These Cards

One half of Children of Zeus and a certified triple threat, Tyler shows off his singing, rhyming (in case you forgot), and production skills on this bumping new single. And he's 100% correct...he's done alright, to say the least.

The 45 King : Meganizm

While The 45 King is best known for his 80s productions, he was also the producer of tracks like Jay-Z's "Hard Knock Life" and "Stan" for Eminem as well as a number of far more underground collections of beats, like 2006's "Grooves For A Quiet Storm" from which this track is drawn. A chilled head-nodder with a straightforward and clean drum track on top of some summery keys and bass, this fits just as well at a BBQ as on a mixtape!

SoulChef, Steph Pockets, and DJ Groove Damoast : When It Comes To This

RIP Groove Damoast, who passed away this month. I didn't know the full extent of his work, only knowing his name as a DJ on Twitch, but he was a well-regarded DJ and producer out of Philadelphia who is deeply missed by many. Having heard this 2021 single on one of the many tribute shows, I decided I wanted to share it here. New Zealand's SoulChef is on production, Groove Damoast is the man on the turntables cutting it up with precision, and his Philadelphia compatriot Steph Pockets controls the mic from start to end. Quality Hip-Hop.

Dynamic Syncopation ft. Mass Influence : 2 Tha Left

Early 2000s pick here that I encountered on the Ninja Tune "Xen Cuts" compilation, but was also on the 2002 "In The Red" LP by the combo of producers Loop Professor and Jonny Cuba. As much as this breezy, acoustic guitar-laced track could have been a great instrumental, they stepped it up by drafting in Mass Influence, an underground crew of MCs out of Atlanta who sound very different to what would come to most people's mind when they think of Atlanta Hip-Hop! Apparently some people know this from an advert for Adult Swim segment of Cartoon Network, so it's interesting to know that stuff like Ninja Tune had that kind of reach within the generation who are not making the decisions :)

Fred & The New JB's : (It's Not The Express) It's the J.B.'s Monaurail, Pt. 1

(Not my apostrophe placement, by the way!) I had a bit of a play with the cue points feature on Serato to extend this live-drummed intro a little bit, just because those hi-hats are so fire. A classic funk workout from Fred Wesley and the rest of James Brown's famous band of that era (from the "James Brown's Funky People" LP), and one that has been sampled on at least three tracks I can think of - I don't know if the sample was cleared on my favourite usage, so I won't mention it here even though you might have heard me play it in the past...

EPMD : Let The Funk Flow

I'll be real - this is far from my favourite of the tracks on EPMD's classic debut "Strictly Business", but I couldn't pass up the chance to blend into it off the back of the original sample! Listening to the cuts on this makes me smile, performed by the group's original DJ K La Boss (who is still working today under the name Dj4our5ive) in his early years.

[Rashad Smith and Sean "Puffy" Combs] The Notorious B.I.G. : One More Chance (Hip-Hop Instrumental)

In a then-contemporary example of the new school calling back to their Hip-Hop inspirations, Rashad Smith and Puffy essentially lifted the monster Marley Marl beat for Craig G's "Droppin' Science (Remix)" for this drastic remix of a track that was already a remix...ok, stay with me on this. The original "One More Chance" was on "Ready To Die" and was pretty raw on the X-rated rhymes, and was then essentially re-recorded with Faith Evans on the hook with a bit of a bow tie on the production, sampling DeBarge's "Stay With Me" for radio appeal. However, the winner for many of us was taking the lyrics from this version and putting them alongside the undeniable break that Marley used seven years before!

Latee : This Cut's Got Flavor

Closing with a DJ Mark the 45 King production, a real classic for heads of a certain age that you don't hear often enough nowadays! This 1987 single has an absolutely monster drum track highlighted by those heavy kicks, and the slowed-down guitar riff is a perfect era-appropriate backing. Latee only had a few releases under his own banner, along with a decent number of guest appearances, but these to me will always be the rhymes that come to mind whenever this Flavor Unit MC is mentioned. This track just makes me want to put on a Dapper Dan suit and drive an AMG Benz somewhere. To my desk job, I suppose 😁

Please remember to support the artists you like! The purpose of putting the podcast out and providing the full tracklist is to try and give some light, so do use the songs on each episode as a starting point to search out more material. If you have Spotify in your country it's a great way to explore, but otherwise there's always Youtube and the like. Seeing your favourite artists live is the best way to put money in their pockets, and buy the vinyl/CDs/downloads of the stuff you like the most!

Check out this episode!

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saviourofzaun · 10 months

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CHECKMATE — BLACK: THE HANGING OF AN ART PIECE.

This is a canon divergent story about Silco sending Jayce back to Piltover, after weeks of indoctrinating, manipulation and playing mental games with the Councillor. Jayce has sworn fealty to the Cause, to Silco. Though, Silco needs Jayce in Piltover, so everything can run smoothly. But, it doesn't go without conflicted feelings.

Disclaimer: viewer discretion advised. Contains topics of: drugs, violence, death, murder, gore, torture, cannibalism, body horror and eye horror.

Setting: Arcane universe. Word count: 4,673.

“Very well. By the morning, you will be gone.”

It had been a month since Silco sent Jayce back to Piltover. Silco required him to take care of the Council, and more so, take care of Councillor Merdarda. The industrialist knew he wanted to stay, but it was best for everyone involved to send the man back to where he came from. After all, personal feelings had no place in the big chess game.

Over the weeks of spending time with the young man, Silco had learnt a few things. He found out that Jayce's influence, from an outside perspective, was bigger than it truly was. A facade. The man of Tomorrow, nothing more than a puppet for the puppeteers sitting in the Council. The Eye of Zaun realised that Jayce had in mind to not only help Piltover, but also Zaun with Hextech. Perhaps this had to do with the influence Viktor had over him. Nevertheless, the boy's heart was pure. He was a victim, and had indulged himself in the schemes of his 'Councillor friends'. He wasn't a predator, he was prey.

With the right words, the right timing, and the right tone, Silco had managed to chip away Jayce's walls, bit by bit. Because he 'understood', because he 'cared'. Albeit, what Silco did not realise, is that he perhaps got a little too involved in the games he played with the Piltovian. He could sympathise with the man, especially when he learnt that Jayce had been betrayed, multiple times, even by his own mother and partner.

“… I must admit, finding out he wanted to do good for both Piltover and Zaun, had me slightly taken aback. Do I believe him? Partly, since I know it'd still benefit Piltover more so than Zaun. However, I believe he truly thinks he is doing the right thing for both cities. All in all a fool, and a pawn in the Council's chess game, but with the right intentions.”

Had Silco grown to care for the boy? Was there still a shred of humanity in him that was capable of such human emotion? Jayce wore his heart on his sleeve. People like him were rare, especially in Zaun. Was he pompous, self-centred, and did he get high on the praise he received? Most definitely. However, an inflated ego normally indicated that something below the surface was brewing. There was a difference between confidence, and arrogance. This is where the two differ; Jayce was filled with arrogance, whereas Silco was a confident man. Though, in truth, it had taken the Zaunite a while to gain it. Perhaps it all had to do with the man in him that died a long time ago, and the monster to take place. Monsters couldn't be weak, monsters did not apologise for ripping their prey to shreds. Monsters were confident, because that is what a monster was. A weak man would concern himself with the opinion of sheep, where the monster would sink its teeth into the flesh, and rip it apart the moment they even looked wrongly their way. A monster however only had to give a glance, on simple look that said it all, for the sheep to become silent. Why? Because that was what monsters do. They play, they toy with their food, they lick the blood up, see how far they can get it, only for the sheep to flee, just to be chased all over again.

Yet, there was one sheep who caught the monster's eye, a sheep that was worth more than any other of the herd. A black sheep, one that was naive, one that wished to do good, one that crumbled under the pressure of performing. A sheep that was the golden ticket, if approached right.

Subsequently, the monster approached the sheep, to flash it a toothy smile, and circle it, whispering in low tones to let it all in. The monster bit once and twice, only to whisper sweetly into the sheep's ear, lulling it, so it would calm down. The monster observed, closely, intently, seeing how more and more of the sheep's confidence got chipped away. When the monster bit again, the sheep did not run. Instead, it approached, nestling itself against the monster for it to fall asleep against its ugly, crooked form. The sheep began to trust the monster, which did take the monster by surprise. Through all the muck, blood, and dirt, an arm appeared from underneath the monster's skin, replacing its claw. That same arm reached down, as it cradled the sheep against the monstrous form. It was when the sheep nuzzled the hand, that the monster realised two things: He had won his golden ticket, and it seemed that the weak man still swam below the surface, or what was left of it.

“I, Jayce of House Talis, pledge myself to this cause. For whatever you need, be that of a blacksmith, or a defender. I will stay at your side, no matter the cost.”

He had taken Mel's plaything away from her. He won the game. Checkmate. Though, even if he had won, he also had lost. The weak man resurfaced. A bet he could not permit to go on further. He had to stomp his emotions into the ground, he had to. There was no room for emotions, for human sentiment. Silco could not permit himself to slip, to allow the weak man to sabotage his goal, his only goal. The weak man was dead, long gone. There was no room for it.

“Everyone has a monster inside to them, but it is only a matter of if we allow ourselves to let this monster out. My 'normal' self has been intertwined with my monstrous side, because I am aware I am one. However, depending on who is standing in front of me, that will dictate whether I want to feast on them or not. I am both man and monster, there is no difference in that.”

How he wished he had killed the man entirely. How he wished the weak man had succumbed to his fatal wounds. Conversely, if the man would have died entirely, he wouldn't have Jinx. Sure, he would have his nation of Zaun, but what of her? What of his love for her? She was the very thing that kept the man alive, the very thing that stopped him from the monster to swallow him whole. It stopped the shard from cracking further, and turning into dust. And now, another seemed to see the shards of his humanity. Something Silco wished he could have stomped into the ground.

It had been a month since Silco sent Jayce back to Piltover, and the Eye of Zaun was growing restless. Perhaps it bordered the line of paranoia. The thoughts of betrayal kept creeping up, and it had him in an agitated mood. Sending Jayce back to the wolves was both smart, and risky. Could he trust Councillor Talis' loyalty? He after all had turned his back to the others, so why would his cause, and Silco, be any different?

Control. The lack of control was what made the Eye of Zaun restless. He now had to trust someone who he wasn't too sure he could trust. But, therefore, who was trustworthy in Silco's eyes?

“Everyone else betrays us.”

With the restlessness flowing through his veins, Silco had decided that for once, he would join one of the interrogations Sevika was supposed to have. With Vander's knife resting in its hilt, and coat on, he made his way out. Someone was going to die, whether it was called or uncalled-for.

With a steady pace, a bag in hand, he walked the street of The Lanes, and it of course came with some stares here and there. He was after all the Voidling who flooded the streets with Shimmer. A demon. The Devil himself. Silco made his way to an abandoned factory just outside of The Lanes. A little birdie had told him someone by the name of 'Zayn' tried to plan a coup, but not for the Council. Oh? This was going to be fascinating to the industrialist.

Once inside the factory, the air was already thick. Though, it thickened more as heels tapped onto the concrete, echoing through the empty rooms, hallways, a heeded warning for what was about to come. Cold eyes were locked onto the man who was tied to a chair, surrounded by some of his runners, and Sevika beating the life out of him. Though, it seemed that all of them came to a halt, glancing over their shoulders as The Eye of Zaun approached. It was clear that the bunch was taken by surprise, especially Sevika, since Silco had ordered them to take care of it. Dead bodies were scattered in the back corner of the hall, and it seemed that this was their leader. Albeit, he began to lose his mind at the sight of the Eye of Zaun.

“No!” He shouted, begging as tears began to stream. Weeping, the man began to writhe underneath his binds. “No, please! Anything but him! Keep him away from me!” The poor man begged. The futile attempt to plead with Sevika had Silco smirk a little. How could a man like him try to start a coup, if he was so fearful of the industrialist? A pathetic sight, that was one thing for sure.

Silco shrugged his coat off, and placed it along with the bag neatly on one of the iron tables. Long fingers worked on the buttons of his sleeve, before he began to roll them up. “Sevika, you can go for a smoke.” With his sleeves now rolled up, his hand reached to the hilt of his knife, pulling it out and twirling it into his palm. The older Zaunite began to whistle a familiar tune, one that many people in Zaun knew; Dear Friend Across the River. Turning around, he slowly made his way to the traitor who wept. He came to a halt before him, head tilting slightly as he watched. The whistling died down for a mere second. “Everyone out.” And, with reluctant compliance, everyone made their way outside, waiting for Silco to be done.

“No… No! Please, no!” The traitorous man cried out. His eyes shot frantically to Sevika and the runners, who walked out of the room. “Silco! Please!” He shouted. Though, there came no reply from the chem-baron. The whistling began once more, which made the other tremble in fear. “Please! Let's-Let's talk about it!” He stammered. All that the industrialist did was circle him, sizing him up so to speak. His corrupted eye shone fiercely in the shadows. Oh, he was mad.

As Silco stopped before him once more, his free hand shot quickly to the man's jaw, making him look up at him as he leaned in. Their gaze met as he hovered above the bound man, head tilting. “Don't cry.” Silco said, his voice soft, gentle-like, nearly above a whisper. It left the man breathless. “I haven't done anything, yet.” A low chuckle escaped the chem-baron, all the while a smile lingered. The air was as thick as the thickest fog in the mining system. “Tell me, what is your opinion on gallows?” Silco asked as his lips began to curl further up. With these words, Zayn's eyes seemed to widen.

No.

He could not say a word, since he was stricken with fear. The tip of Silco's knife caressed the paled skin of his cheek. The poor soul flinched, turning his head away as his eyes tightly shut. “Shhh.” Silco hushed, all the while his gaze intensified. “It's okay. Everyone makes mistakes, right?” The Eye of Zaun suddenly reached to one of his bound hands. “Now, I need you to focus.” His voice deepened at those words. “Were these the only ones, or are there more of you out there?” The cold blade gently scraped under one of the man's nails, eyes sharply onto the hazel hues of the other. Zayn began to whimper, stammering as he shook his head. “N-No.” His answer caused the older Zaunite to huff bitterly. The knife began to press underneath the index finger's nail, slowly sinking underneath it, into the flesh, as he began to wiggle the nail loose. A loud cry echoed through the halls, followed loud sobbing and screaming. “No? No, what?” Like a serpent, the industrialist's head turned oh so slightly, observing how the other frantically tugged at his bounds. “Coherent, Zayn. I ought you to answer me coherently.” With the nail loosened from the flesh, Silco allowed nimble fingers to reach out, lifting it from the bleeding wound before tossing it over his shoulder. “A fingernail. Those make the biggest men weep, and beg. Weak men usually share information if they lose one or two.” Silco mused. “One. Nine to go.”

Like Silco had anticipated on, it only took two fingernails for the man to tell him everything he needed to know. They were affiliated with another gang. Of course, of course they were. Nevertheless, since this gang was supposed to be the most… tactful one of the bunch, dismantling them only meant the others would not even dare to dream about coming for The Eye of Zaun. If anything, it only showed how incapable they truly were. Such a shame— They could have joined him, and fight as brothers and sisters for the Nation of Zaun. Alas, their futile attempt on getting rid of Silco, had been paid in full; with their blood and their life.

Once all fingernails had been removed, it seemed as if the Eye of Zaun was done. In shock, sweating, and whimpering, Zayn's head hang low, sweat dripping from his forehead, and blood trickling down his fingers, over the wooden frame of the chair, to the ground. However, Silco was not done with him quite just yet. With a slight grunt, he rose up to his feet and walked back to his belongings. Opening the bag, he reached for it, pulling out a syringe filled with shimmer. Flicking against the glass twice, it prompted the traitor to look up. “No… please, no.” He stammered. A chuckle; A mean, bitter chuckle, escaped the pale lips of the chem-baron. “You thought I was done with you?” Silco asked, glancing over his shoulder at the other. Something had… changed. There was a particular delight found in the heterochromatic gaze: Sinister delight. It seemed that the Zaun-bred man was enjoying the other's misery immensely.

Swaying with his arms, he slowly approached the struggling man, whistling in a rather jovial tone. This only added to the terror of the bound man. “Don't! DON'T!” Zayn shouted, begged, and cried. “I TOLD YOU EVERYTHING!” Frantic panic seeped through the man's expression. Eyes wide, face paled, lips trembling. Like a deer staring in headlights, he stared at Silco. “Oh, but we are past that point, Zayn.” Taunting, Silco stood behind the other, grabbing a handful of the dark locks of the man. “You tried to stage a coup. What do you think that was going to happen, hm? You genuinely thought I would rip your nails out, gather information from you, and free you candidly after?” Silco began to tut, yanking at the other's hair. “I am far from done with you. If anything, we are just getting started.” A small grin spread over the normally hardened features of the older man. “Now, sit still. I otherwise might hurt you.” And with those words, he slipped the needle into his neck, inserting the contents slowly of the syringe into the poor man's bloodstream.

Two fingers formed a circle, moving up to his mouth. With a loud whistle, he called in his men. Zayn could barely take in what was happening around him, nor could he comprise any coherent sentences. Two firm hands placed down on his shoulders, giving a slight squeeze before grabbing his jaw. Leaning in from the back, pale lips were a breadth away from the other. “Who said you could sleep?” Silco whispered, followed by a low hum of amusement. “Hm?” His grip tightened, lips curled in a malevolent smile. “Zayn, Zayn, Zayn. You are the main guest! I insist you try to focus on the second part of the show! You will be playing the lead.” With his voice dropping into a low tone, the eyes of the industrialist began to gleam. Now, with his men entering the room again, Silco let go of the other, stepping away. His hands clasped together, as he walked over to his employees. “Find a dolly cart. We are going back to The Lanes. What is the second most busy, preferably high, building there is? We are about to install an art piece there.” Glancing over his shoulder, sharpened eyes took in the form of the traitor once more, before he walked over to his belongings. With a swift movement, he put his coat on, and grabbed his bag. His henchmen worked on the traitor, whilst others looked for the cart. Silco headed outside, and Sevika followed right in his footstep, just like he had expected of his most trusted bodyguard, and friend.

The fun was about to begin.

After an antagonising long walk for the traitor, who was strapped onto the caddy cart, they had made it to the rooftop of the second most busy building in The Lanes, right besides The Last Drop. It only would make sense for it to be the second busiest, if the square was rather packed. And, like the theatrical individual Silco was, he wanted everyone to see what would happen to those who tried to oppose him.

“Isn't the view lovely?” With his hands clasped behind his back, Silco watched the people from down below. This was his domain, and no one would take that from him, not even a pitiful little man. There was some incoherent murmuring coming from the drugged man. The side of Silco's nose twitched in annoyance before he turned around. “Untie him.” Silco said, heaving a sigh and waving his hand nonchalantly. Heels tapped ominously, making his way to the other as he was laid down. The man had been drugged, enough for him to stay alive, not enough to turn into a beast. Singed had made sure that the doses were perfect. Kneeling down, the older Zaunite's head tilted. Swiftly, a loud smack echoed through the air, causing to stir the other awake. “I told you,” Silco said, expression hardening. “Focus.” He grabbed his knife, and twirled it in his hand, whistling jovially. “Tie his ankles together, for when he hangs. I want him upside down.” A smile curled up once more as mismatched hues met the glazed with fear gaze of the man below.

“Have you heard the tale of the gruesome deaths surrounding the De Witt brothers?” Silco asked, voice charmingly husky. “There once were two brothers; Johan and Cornelis, who ruled their respectful city. Though, one day, there was a coup, and the brothers were innocently murdered, just for trying.” Silco glanced over to his knife, inspecting it as his head tilted from one side to the other. “Do you know what they did to the brothers, hm?” The cold eyes of The Eye of Zaun met with Zayn's once more, eyebrow cocking up. “After they killed them, they mutilated their bodies. The people cut off their toes, their fingers, their ears, their lips and cut out their tongues. After that, they castrated them. And, as last, they cut their stomach open, to remove their bowels.” A low chuckle escaped. “Do you know what happened to Judas?” Silco asked once more. “Judas was hanged from a tree, with his bowels falling out.” The more Silco continued, the paler Zayn became. And, it left him enthralled. “Now, the reason as to why I gave you shimmer, is because I want you to live long enough to enjoy this experience with me.” The Eye of Zaun's eyes began to gleam with that same delight from earlier. “I am going to combine the two—” Silco threw his leg over the man's hips, hovering above him as nimble fingers took hold of the man's jaw. “And you are going to sit still for me. Let's begin.”

An antagonising scream echoed through the streets as Silco began to work on the traitor. Two of his men held Zayn's arms down, all the while Silco held his face firmly. On a torturous slow pace, he cut off one of the man's ears off, all the while Silco hummed a slow lullaby. With the ear tossed to the side, the Eye of Zaun's head canted, all the while the man beneath him writhed, screamed and cried. The other ear was next, and similarly, he tossed it to the side. Though, it seemed he was taking it further. Step by step. The humming grew in volume, and crimson-stained fingers now travelled to the man's nose before he slowly cut it off. The back arched of the man, as he once again screamed out. Eyes rolled to the back, as he was near passing out. Oh, but that wouldn't do. With a sharp whistle, Silco signed to one of his men. A heterochromatic pair glanced up at him, giving him a nod, all the while a small wicked smile grew. There were no words needed. His whistles, his commands, were more than enough for them to know what Silco needed.

The runner reached into the bag and pulled out another syringe filled with epinephrine. Kneeling down, he slipped the needle into Zayn's neck, and slowly administered the drug to his bloodstream. That way, Zayn would stay awake. Now, with the two drugs running through his veins, there was no escape. He was going to live through the hell Silco had planned for him.

With Silco resuming, he began to work on the man's face. The sharp blade slipped from side to side, underneath his chin, all the way to the temples. With the blade writhing underneath the skin, carefully not to tear it, Silco skinned the man's face. He briefly pulled the his knife away, and allowed his bloodied fingers to submerge itself with more crimson. Silco's chin lifted, and eyes gleamed with a sinister delight as he ripped the skin from the muscles. Zayn screamed out in agony, in despair. What had he done?

The pain got amplified by the Shimmer, and every nerve was set alight with madness. Just how Silco felt back underneath the unforgiving waters, with hands wrapped around his neck that were supposed to keep him safe. Wasn't it ironic? He was the hero in his own story, but at the same time, he was aware of the monster he had become. A monster for the greater good. A monster that had a need to quench its thirst for blood. A monster who crawled from the depths of the water, after the man was drowned.

With his face peeled off, Silco cut out his tongue, gauged his eyes out and moved his hand over the exposed flesh. “Ah,” Silco hummed as the other went nearly into shock. “Aren't you just pretty like that? Though, if I remember correctly?” He glanced over to one of his runners, which prompted the man to stiffen as the heterochromatic hues met with his. “Were the brothers not… cannibalised?” The runner's eyes widened slightly as he swallowed thickly. “Ehm, I…” With Silco's gaze intensifying, he knew he had no other option than to answer. “I… I think so.” The man stammered. Though, instead of a cold reply coming from his employer, he was met with a growing smile. “That is correct.” Silco turned back to what was left of the traitor, who laid underneath him, head canting. “And I just happen to cut out your tongue.” Silco reached for the muscle, two long fingers delicately took hold of the tip, lifting it as if it was a delicacy he was about to feed him. “Open up, and chew. I can imagine it is quite chewy.”

Enthralled, he lowered the tongue as he took hold of the man's jaw, prying it open. Screaming and body convulsing as nerves laid open, it did not take Silco a lot of effort to have his mouth opened. He lowered the tongue back into the man's mouth, and began to move his jaw, forcefully making him chew. There was not much Zayn could do. With his mind, body, and spirit broken, he did as he was told, and swallowed. Once that was done, the bloodied Eye of Zaun rose to his feet. “Carry him to the ledge.”

Zayn had by now gone into shock, as his body was dragged towards the ledge. With his body trembling, it was apparent he was soon to die from it. Silco stood at the ledge, glancing down at the busy streets of The Lanes. By now, Sevika had tied the rope to a pole, so when he was tossed off, he would dangle, instead of falling to his release.

Heaving a deep sigh, it looked as if the industrialist began to relax. “It was fun playing with you. Thank you for your cooperation.” And with those words, Silco swiftly stabbed the man in his lower abdomen, slipping his sharpened blade up as he gutted the man like a fish. The henchmen let go of Zayn, who know collapsed through his knees, down, as his bowels fell out. As he dangled upside down, bleeding, and parts of his organs falling to the cobblestone of the street below, people began to scream in horror. Even as eyes were locked on the body, the burning eye from one that many knew, shone brightly in the dark.

Silco watched for a good few minutes, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag. Smudging the blood on his face by taking a drag, he did not care for it. He was intently watching how chaos broke down. Some cried, some stood there in shock, and a few here and there began to dry-heave. With his last drag, he flicked the bud of the cigarette down, and turned on his heel. With his men staring at him in some form of bewilderment, and perhaps fear, the industrialist calmly nodded. “Let him hang for a few days, so the warning is clear. Get him down if he begins to smell.” And with these words, Silco walked back to the stairway, along with Sevika following tightly in his pace, and with the bag tightly clutched in her hand.

Once Silco was back in his office, he had poured himself a glass of scotch and had taken a seat on the sofa. With cigar in hand, and glass in the other, he sat back. His mind drifted back to what just happened. In moments like these he felt relieved, lighter, as if he could breathe again. Though, he, too, noticed he was growing more and more cruel. Was he losing himself entirely? Had he not embraced the monster fully inside of him?

“I am both man and monster, there is no difference in that.”

The shards of his humanity were getting crushed under his heel, all in futile attempts to seize control over situations he had no control over. Was this the price he had to pay for the games he had played with Jayce? Had he perhaps sunk in it too deep? Though, admittedly, he did not regret a single moment. If this were the true monster, then perhaps Jayce, and their oath, was a liberation to the industrialist.

And so he lies beneath him, eyes filled with lust with bated breath as The Serpent moved in to claim its kill. Sharp fangs sink into soft skin, causing the arch of the back and a gasp as the Serpent hisses and fills him with his venom. 'You are mine', The Serpent whispers, only for its prey to whisper back, 'I am yours'.

#》 𝙋𝙊𝙒𝙀𝙍 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙔𝙎 𝙄𝙉 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙎𝙃𝘼𝘿𝙊𝙒𝙎 ⎯ (𝙨𝙞𝙡𝙘𝙤).#》 𝘼 𝙁𝙊𝙊𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙃 𝙂𝙇𝙄𝙈𝙈𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙏 𝘿𝙊𝙀𝙎𝙉'𝙏 𝙃𝘼𝙂𝙂𝙇𝙀 ⎯ (𝙟𝙖𝙮𝙘𝙚).#》 𝘾𝙃𝙀𝘾𝙆𝙈𝘼𝙏𝙀 ⎯ (𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚; 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣 𝙙𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙩).#drugs cw #violence cw #death cw #murder cw #gore cw #torture cw #cannibalism cw #body horror cw #eye horror cw #Silco #Silco Arcane

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