Gremlin Mode Shrew

25F Artist/Writer 18+ MDNI please

[gremlinmodeshrew]

CoD Masterlist

PLEASE SUPPORT ME ON KOFI TO GET TO EXCLUSIVE SMUT HERE: https://ko-fi.com/gremlinmodetweeker

Discord Server HERE

You can find me on Ao3 HERE

I'm also on Bluesky Here

I set up the Konig Club tumblr community HERE

ASKS AND REQUESTS OPEN (COMMISSIONS AVAILABLE ON KOFI)

KORTAC

König Dump

TF 141

TF 141 Dump

Ghost Dump

[gremlinmodeshrew]

I want you all to know that in my next König fic, that I know for a fact that it's extremely unrealistic.

Plumbers would always shut off water in a residential house before working, and I know this. I am fully aware of this. But for the sake of a joke, trust me it's funnier this way. Please. Believe me.

But also please clean out the bottom of your sink before a plumber starts working because dude we need the space to fix your pipes.\

Sincerely,

A shitty fanfic writer.

[gremlinmodeshrew]

Chapter One: Buster's Big Opening

Reference to the song by the same name.

Okay, so, I'm not guaranteeing a steady release of chapters. This story is very, very rough. So basically, y'all are getting the Beta version on tumblr, and then I'm going to polish it up for Ao3. However, I want to test this out and see how everyone likes it so far, or has any suggestions on how to make it better!

So, for preface, this is a steampunk fantasy set in an alternate version of Europe (particularly England) in the 1890s. Lots of fun with magic, machines and giants, fairies and changelings. I hope you all enjoy this little brainworm I've been cooking up!

Art from This Post

Warnings: Kidnapping

Wordcount: 3.7k

Story below the cut

Chapter One: Buster's Big Opening

The circus had rolled into the village the night before. The entire town had been abuzz since the first rumours had passed through the papers and the whispers under the lamps in the English countryside fogs. Then the posters began to show up. First on telephone poles, and then on storefront windows, and then on the front page of the newspapers too. Each one was printed in black and white, but someone had painstakingly gone in and painted in the red flag at the top of the tent with a quick flick of their wrist. The paper seemed too old to be new, which only added to the rumours.

Then there came the harkers.

Little boys dressed as though they were in photographs came in, the only sign of life being the flush to their skin and a red bowtie around their neck. These boys yelled and called to anyone with ears about the extraordinary acts of the circus. They spoke of mechanical animals glinting like stars and women who could twist themselves into the pretzels they made fresh each night. These little boys were stars among the village. Men took to wearing red ties, and women red scarves or ribbons around their hats. Some of the village urchins took to copying their look and acting like them, swanning around town with red handkerchiefs hastily tied around their necks as though they too could manage to capture some of that raw star power.

You only learned of the circus when you went into the village to collect some goods for the farm. It had taken two buses and a tram, and while you waited for the bus home you spotted a flyer. Normally, you would’ve ignored it. It was just a simple little flyer. And yet, something about it called to you. It felt only right to take it off the board and fold it once, twice, then tucked it into the fold of your jacket.

It wasn't common for big shows to make a stop in your sleepy village. It was so small that it barely registered as a printing smudge on travel maps given out in London down south. It was such a simple and quiet village that you could sleep a week away and wake up thinking only a few hours had passed. It was plain, simple, but perfectly befitting of a few farming families and a humble clergyman to guide them on their ramshackle path to Heaven. You didn't think many of them would make it. Most of them were too stubborn to admit so much as a stain on the front of their shirt. Humility wasn't the bread and butter of the working man. With hard work came pride, and with it high heads and higher expectations. Such was the way of village life.

With a population so small but starkly traditional, it was any wonder that so much as a busker passed through town. And yet, to the amazement of you and many others, the circus had arrived.

When you made your way back home, your grandfather called you to the living room.

“You’ve got something for me, haven’t you?” he asked.

You took the flyer out of your purse and handed it to him.

He looked it over with a speculative eye and a more curious hum. You watched him run his fingers over the little red flag. He curled his fingers back into a tight fist. His lips pulled back and he stroked at his white beard as he leaned back in his rocking chair. He took a puff off his pipe and fixed you with a steady glare.

“I was a manager in a circus once, you know?” he asked you.

You rolled your eyes with a derisive laugh, “I know. You tell me at least once a day. Something about magic being more than just scholarly malarkey, right?”

Your grandfather huffed and puffed his pipe before he said, “Quite the mouth on you.”

“And where do I get it from?” you gave him a cheery smile.

“You'd better not be saying I'm to blame!” your grandpa coughed before he said, “I made a deal to my old ringmaster a long time ago. I can't… I can't say what it is,” he shook his head and sighed, “but if old Zero's right, there's not much I can do.”

“Zero?”

“Old friend from way back when,” your grandpa waved you off flippantly, “but look. You must understand that I do not say this lightly,” he gave you a stern look, “you’re not to go.”

You expected as such.

“You’re going to go anyway, aren’t you?”

You gave him a half smile and nodded.

Your grandfather rolled his eyes and took another draw of tobacco. He let it out in a long stream as he turned to look out the window at the rolling hills of sheep.

“If you go,” he said, “then can you bring something back for me?”

You smirked and leaned on the doorframe, “What are you looking for?”

“The reddest candy apple you can get me,” your granda grinned.

“You’ll be able to eat it with those teeth?” you teased.

Your grandfather sulked, “You’re no fun, are you?”

You sighed and shook your head, “I’ll get you an apple, old man. You won’t go telling any of the others where I went, will you?”

“Not if you go tonight,” your grandpa said as he cleaned his glasses, “I’m under oath, you see.”

You thanked him and left upstairs to your room, where you sat down with a book and read until the first bruise of twilight stained the sky.

You looked out over the fields. It was later than you expected, but early enough to still see where you went if you took your bike down the road.

You left without dinner. You put a clean shawl over your shoulders and left without a sound. You figured that your mother heard but didn’t have the energy to chase after you after a long day in the fields. You took your bicycle from the back of the house and set off into the weeping dusk.

You peddled along the road, your scarf keeping the bite of autumn from your neck but leaving your face bare for a nipping at your nose and cheeks. The crisp winds smelled of the decay of plant matter and the promise of colder nights to come. As you drew closer, the thick, sticky scent of toffee and beckoned you forth. Then, closer still, the smell of hot butter and chocolate. The cold of the dusk released you from its clutches, almost forgotten as you pulled up to the front of the circus.

From outside, you could see the achromatic tents dotting the landscape. A whirling set of red lights came from the right as a machine twisted and twirled, the passengers with their arms stretched above their heads up above in joyous delight. It struck you that from outside, the circus was entirely silent. Not a whimper, not a hiss, nothing came from the circus. Only the whispers of night surrounded you.

You looked at the toll booth then patted your pockets, only to realise that you’d left your purse at home. You were without so much as a penny to your name as you stood at the front. With a frown, you took up your bike and determined to find another way into the fair grounds.

It took you the better part of half an hour, but you managed to find a spot behind a tent and discarded your bike before slipping through the flaps of a quiet tent.

To your delight, the tent seemed entirely empty, more a placeholder than an attraction. From there, ducking out into the fairgrounds was easy enough.

When you stepped in the fair, you heard a soft hiss and a pop in your ear before a slow din rumbling from the edges of your senses. You looked around and the sounds grew in volume as your eyes widened at the sights before you. Lights became brighter, sounds became real; the circus came to life before your very eyes. You looked around in wonder at the magical world you'd stepped into.

Slipping into the crowds was as natural and easy as breathing. In one moment you were an observer, in the next an active participant in the joyous fair. Black and white tents stood between similar stalls that framed the aisles that had been strategically wound through tight spaces. As you walked, there were stalls filled with black and white bears hung up above a ring toss. Beside it, a man with a mask over his lower features moved cups on a black table impossibly fast. His limbs were a blur and just watching him made you feel dizzy.

You walked onwards.

You felt a thrill at your successful assimilation into the average circus goer. Without a ticket, it provided a new sense of excitement to the experience. You looked into the eyes of a woman standing by a game of darts and she locked eyes with you. You felt a chill as she stared you down, then relief as she tore her eyes away to smile at a group of young children begging for a turn.

You figured that you’d come the next day to pay your ticket. It was the right thing to do. But tonight, you could live dangerously, and you could sneak into the circus like a brave little mouse.

It wasn't long before you found a burly man setting out bright red candy apples out along the edge of his stall. He smiled as he handed a young couple a giant mound of candy floss, lit up beneath the strange white glow of the hanging bulbs. It was while he had his back turned that you swiped two of the tastiest looking apples you saw before ducking back into the crowds. You'd pay later, right? That's what you told yourself. Whether that was true or not was yet to be seen.

The big top called to you with promises of mystique. There was something about the silver and white stripes that stood out from the more blocky black and white of the rest of the circus that drew your eyes to it. Above it, a bright crimson red flag flapped in an unfelt wind. A smell of smoke and diesal burning from the heart of the tent brought you closer and closer, until you were finding yourself slipping inside and taking a seat on the stands.

The show had started long ago by the time you made your way inside. You sat beside a large man and his larger wife, their popcorn forgotten on their laps and their jaws gaping as they stared down at the sight below. You realised their expressions mirrored nearly each and every audience member before you turned to see what they were all looking at.

In the center of the stage, a woman in a diamond studded grey dress hovered at least thirty feet above the ground, suspended only by long draping red ribbons. She turned slowly, her slender arms stretching above her head and her fingers splaying wide before they pinched at a ribbon above. Without a word, she slipped out of her silk cocoon and dropped. There was a collective gasp, only held back when the woman effortlessly wound one foot in a ribbon, leaving her face only inches above the dirt.

A lone violinist swayed with the sweet song he played. You could see the conversation between them, lovers torn apart but left to yearn for the other. His song was low, slow, languid in how it hung in the air as the woman hung in the ribbons. With a trill, she rolled back up into the safety of the ribbons and continued her performance.

Only when the woman’s pointed feet touched the ground did the crowd finally clap and cheer for her performance. As though she only just noticed the crowd, she flushed and took the violinists hand before raising it high above both their heads.

They left for the next act, one equally beautiful and stunning accompanied by someone playing a lilting waltz on a calliope organ. But where there was grace and elegance with the ribbons artist, this man was captivating in his strength, dexterity and ease with each knife he threw. You watched as he hit a dartboard thrown up into the air, then another knife into the handle of the first, and a third landed in the second. Effortless expressions of skill from the man behind a black and silver demon mask that only covered up to his nose.

The next act was silly and fun, a pair of clowns joking and playing games as a mechanical bull chased them round and round the ring with big puffs of steam and brazen bellows. 

You laughed, you cried, you did everything in between as the circus brought out act after act, each one just as incredible as the last. Not a hair out of place, not a singular note misplayed. It was pure perfection captured under hot stage lights. You clapped joyously as the last act left the stage, only for a man to waltz in with a black cane and a long top hat. He looked up to the crowd with a twinkle in his blue eyes. His mutton chops framed his dazzling smile and he called to the crowd to give one last hurrah for the performers.

You cheered, but the moment you stood you felt the man’s eyes snap to you. His smile still fixed in place, you felt a pure malice radiate from his being as he looked at you.

You slipped out of the tent quickly after that.

Stepping out into the crowds, you cooled your hyperventilating by losing yourself in the crowd once more. You let them draw you in circles around the big top, but each time you felt yourself draw too close, you swore you could feel the man’s eyes on you once more. You could feel his malice, his pure hatred for you. This hatred was personal, and it spoke one truth to you: you did not belong in this circus.

So you stayed away while you could. However, without any coin to pay for games or snacks, you soon found yourself growing more and more alienated from the joy around you.

You stumbled upon a man standing in a crowd. His black mask covered his whole face, save for the bright blue eyes that flickered dangerously around the crowd. He took a small dagger and held it up to the crowd. They booed and he shook his head, also disappointed. He took up a small sword, and the crowd booed again. The man picked up a long sword, and the crowd enthusiastically cheered.

You watched in awe as the man’s mask split at the mouth, and he tilted his head all the way back. He slowly raised the sword up high into the air, then slowly fed it down his throat.

Children turned into their mother’s dresses and their mothers pressed their hands to their face. A group of young men crowed as the swordsman slowly pulled the blade down, down, down until logistically, the blade should have passed right through him. And yet, he pulled it out and then stuck it in the ground beside him, the pummel level with the top of his head.

You left him as he waved the crowd away. You felt his eyes on you as you slipped into the crowd once more.

The next act was that of a dark skinned man standing in front of a set of anvils. He pulled the black straps of his working overalls and called up two men from the crowd to try lifting each anvil, but despite their huffing and puffing, the damn things wouldn’t budge. You watched in awe as the man lifted two, one in each hand, and then threw one into the air, followed by the second and the third as the man juggled the anvils as though they were not but hacky sacks in his hands. The sheer show of strength was impossible to you, and yet the man stood, the metal brace on his torso and legs flexing with each time he took an anvil into his hands.

You turned as he added another and slipped away.

You passed by a petting zoo of silver animals. Somehow, you felt as though the animals could actually breathe and have a heartbeat, and you scurried away as a leopard turned to watch you with a hungry look in its eyes.

You were shoved further and further away from the circus until you found yourself at the very outskirts, just by the tent you had snuck in from. To your amazement, there was a big black tent with a white sign promising strange oddities from across the lands.

You looked over your shoulder before you ducked inside.

The first room held two children connected by their skulls, and the second a man covered from head to toe in hair. By the third room, you realised that the people were either wax or saddened actors who's pain radiated through their acts. They were fakes. You disappointedly walked through each room after that. It seemed strange. The rest of the circus was full of wild wonders and delights, but all you saw here were impressive feats of art and engineering, but nothing that would shock you to your core.

You came across two tent flaps. One claimed to be the exits, while the other claimed to house the most fearsome creature to walk the lands. Something cruel, wicked and violent by nature. The thought was laughable. There were no giants in the cloudlands. They never came up, lest they wreck havoc on the land. Destructive, greedy and proud creatures, there was no chance that a giant truly laid beyond that door.

You rolled your eyes, but wanting to give it a shot, you stepped through the door promising to bring you to the beast named ‘König’.

You sucked in a breath as you looked at the man across from you.

Lit by flickering Edison bulbs, there sat a humongous creature behind iron bars. You stumbled into the room, amazed as you looked up at the man.

He was an incredible creature. His muscles were strapped across his frame as though they were sculpted by an artist. His hairy arms flexed and tensed as he felt you scrutinize his every move, and to your curiosity, it seemed that he shrank under your stare. His lower half was fitted into a poorly fitted pair of pants, but his face was covered in a dark shroud with twin red tear streaks coming from the eyes that saw you. 

This was no savage beast, but something else.

There was a startling… Humanity to him. There was an intelligence there that shouldn’t have existed. It felt that, for just a moment, there was no animal in this cage. Only a broken man. 

You slowly sat down on the stool across from him.

“Hello?” you tried carefully.

The man’s sloped brows furrowed behind his black hood. Strangely, the red tear tracks painted on it almost seemed to be real.

“Can you understand me?” you tried again.

The creature huffed, “Yes.”

Your eyes widened as you soaked in the meaning of the interaction.

“Are you going to hurt me, or will you stare?”

His voice was higher than you expected, but with an accent that sounded distinctly undercloudian. Almost as though he were raised among humans.

The giant snorted again, “You will stare.”

You felt yourself snap to attention.

“I’m not staring,” you said.

The giant gave you a glare.

You swallowed, “Okay, well, maybe a bit. But it’s just…”

“You’ve never seen one of my kind before?” the giant filled in for you.

You nodded sheepishly.

“Well,” he raised up his arms like an albatross spreading its wings before the sun, “now you have.”

You fiddled your thumbs in your lap meekly. Somehow, this giant had you completely cowed. You almost felt humiliated by his cutting observations.

“I didn’t expect you to talk,” you admitted.

The giant shrugged, “I’m not supposed to.”

“You’re not?” you asked, “then why did you speak to me?”

The giant laughed, a hearty sound from deep in his chest.

“Because, little girl,” he sneered, “you’re not meant to be here.”

You felt the air leave your lungs.

“Anyone working here could see it from a mile away,” the giant continued, “you snuck in. Like a little mouse, hm?”

You squirmed on your seat, suddenly feeling how uncomfortable the wooden stool was.

“Huh. I expected you to talk. Funny how that works,” the giant leaned his chin on his fist.

Your face flushed, “I was going to pay for my ticket tomorrow…”

“You were?” the giant raised a dark brow.

“I was!” you pouted, “I don’t need sass from you! I don’t even know your name!”

The giant tilted his head as though you were stupid, “Did you not read the sign, little mouse?”

You thought for a moment, “The… The sign?”

The giant held up his hands, “First she doesn’t speak, then she doesn’t read,” he sighed, “dumb little mouse.”

“I’m not dumb!” you shot back.

“You’re dumb enough,” the giant said.

“Dumb enough for what?” you sneered, “dumb enough to talk to a giant?”

The giant shook his head.

“No,” he drawled, “you’re not dumb for trying to talk to me. You’re dumb to walk into a trap though.”

Your eyes widened.

You realised you weren’t the only two people in the room.

Slowly, ever so slowly, you turned around to see a tall man holding a pipe. His brown eyes narrowed at you behind his skull mask.

You turned back to the giant in the cage helplessly, but he provided nothing to help you. Instead, he tucked a knee to his broad chest and lay his head on his knee, amused by the entire event.

“By the way,” he told you, “my name is König.”With that, the lights went out.

Konig Dump

AU Masterlist

Steampunk Circus AU

[gremlinmodeshrew]

Mechanical Circus!AU

Art from This Post and This Post

Alternate Universe Masterlist

The circus rolled into town, and with it came a beast of legend. As the circus left, it took you with it to explore the Cloudlands. Set in 1890s Fantasy Europe with a steampunk flair.

Chapter One: Buster's Big Opening

[gremlinmodeshrew]

Hi!

Hey all! So, I have gotten a few asks about whether or not I post, and the answer is yes! And no. But soon to be more yes!!!

See, in December, my computer bricked. I was pissed. I'm still pissed about it. I am so damn pissed oh my goodness I'm going to go to headquarters and-

So I needed a new computer. A very lovely friend gave me a laptop (for free!) but I didn't have the heart to tell him that writing on that laptop just made me feel icky. I think it was the keyboard layout? It felt bad. I did not like it.

So, I tried a bit on my phone. Just here and there, but the phone was worse. Seriously, fanfic writers who write on their phone, how do y'all do it??? How??? It felt disgusting. I hated it.

So, I kinda stopped writing??? But I have this new fic that was always brewing in the back of my mind. I wanted to write it, and, well, the same friend who gave me a lovely little laptop then sold me a PC. He was wonderful enough to set it up for me (I would've toasted the thing had I tried it on my own), and now I have a computer! I have headphones! I can watch youtube while I write again! THE WORLD IS HEALING.

But, at the exact same time, I started going to a college. It's intensive, and I'm exhausted when I get home.

So, I want to suggest a compromise for all of us. How would you guys feel about me releasing chapters (broken into bits) once or twice a week? It's a fic I've been cooking on since Kidnapper Konig. TOTALLY different vibe and genre (fantasy victorian circus romance, anyone?) but I really like it. It has some horrifically dark moments, but the overall story is much much lighter in tone. There's kidnapping still, kinda, but it's a much nicer and less morally corrupt König! One that's actually not a murderer! I can't believe that's my selling point for this story.

But yes! If you guys want, I can release parts of chapters to try and make up for the fact that I haven't been posting any of this story at all. Or I can wait until it's finished to post it all. What would you all prefer?

[motherfucker-somewhat-limited]

tiktoks with vine energy pt. 16

[gremlinmodeshrew]

Y'all

I just got back home (by that I mean I moved in with my boyfriend on Sunday) and I only just got a good chance to look at my tumblr.

Guys, I can't stress how thankful I am. I am honestly at a loss for words for how grateful I am for this support.

Often, I feel like I create in a vacuum. I feel like nobody reads my work, nobody likes it, none of it matters. I, as a creator, don't just create for myself. I create because I like to share my work. It's part of what fuels me as a person. I want to know that my work means something beyond me.

In this moment, I feel like, for just a moment, maybe I've done something more. And it's thanks to all of you. You are the people who read, comment, like, reblog and share my work. You're all the reason that I create. You make my world a bit more livable.

Life has been hard this year, to say the least. It's scary, too. I don't know where I'm going to go next. Since moving, I haven't really had a time to sit and write/draw. The other day, I sat down and tried to draw but nearly ended up crying.

But this gives me the hope that maybe I should try again. Maybe it can be okay. Maybe my work isn't so meaningless. Maybe, just maybe, all my fears and insecurities are all in my head.

Thank you so much for supporting me. At the end of the day, I'm just a silly little shrew goofing around on the internet. But when you guys do this for me, I can't help but feel that maybe I'm okay.

It's parasocial, but nobody in my own life really knows what I create, and it hurts. I'm scared to show anyone (for understandable reason, looking at you kidnapper!Konig). But when I see things like this, it reminds me that what I make does have a value.

Thank you for helping me battle my insecurities and fears. I couldn't do it without you all.

[gremlinmodeshrew]

I have lots of thoughts for Kidnapper König… 👀I’m obsessed with how you characterise him

How would König react to Pet running away multiple times, again and again? Do we think he’d ever go back to his restrictive ways by chaining or leashing Pet up? Would he ever put Pet back in the basement? He said he’d never be mad, just disappointed, but would he ever get sick and tired of Pets disobedience?

Another question: How would he react to Pet sawing off her shackles off whilst still living in the basement? I doubt she’d get very far at all (probably just wanted some more access to the basement, or wanted to stretch her legs), but would he snap? Or would he silently chain her up again and not address it?

Sorry if you’re not currently taking requests!! 😅

Oh I absolutely do! I just also schedule them well in advance, which sometimes means a month or so out. But I do answer!!! EVENTUALLY.

But yes, Kidnapper!König is a very patient creature. Picture him as a wolf stalking a limping deer. Never stopping, never running, just following until the deer collapses into the snow. Relentless but patient.

He would never take off the cuff in the first place if he thought she would escape. If she showed real attempts to run, the cuff goes on immediately. No doubts about that. She'd never leave the basement, she'd be in the cuffs, she'd be cooked.

He would honestly be amused by her disobedience. He likes a good chase. The more you try to fight, the more fun it is to break you down. If you die fighting? He'll have lived a lifetime of punishing you over and over, and he'd happily do it again. He doesn't need your consent in the end. One day, he'll realize that you won't be broken, and then he'll act as he pleases.

If she ever did manage to saw off the shackle? He'd just be impressed and a bit frustrated that he left something in her area for her to escape with. Hell, maybe he'd do it on purpose to chase her down and capture her again.

If she got out of the house, where would she go? There's at least a two hour drive of woods before a hint of civilization, and that's only if you know which way to follow the road. Otherwise you're at his cabins and you're stuck again. If you choose the right route, then you're stuck in a town full of people who don't speak a lick of English. They'd just be confused and try to avoid you if you ran up to them and begged them to help.

So you'd be sent back to König if you were brought to the police (something done across the country, maybe even continent). So police wouldn't help, the town wouldn't help, and everybody would be pushing you back into König's arms. You're doomed from the start.

König, however, will love the chase. He'd love to hunt you down over and over. He found you once. He'll do it again.

He's the wolf after the deer. He'll follow you across the entire globe, waiting and watching until you collapse.

And that's when he wins.

[gremlinmodeshrew]

I’m curious on your description for each character in the Kidnapper Konig series

Could you give us a post describing the family’s physical features and appearance so we get a better idea of how they look

So now that Kidnapper!König is over, I think it's time to go over the character appearances.

I kept them a big vague but tried to get some core features across. I avoid describing character features too much because I try to avoid writing like I'm on Wattpad (sorry, I know that's a bit mean but I have a point I swear). However, I do have pretty in-depth features on my end.

TW: kidnapping, torture referenced, suicide mentioned,

From oldest to youngest (saving König for last):

Mrs. Henker

70+ years old

6'3

She has white hair down to her shoulders that she usually keeps loose. She has bright blue eyes and thin features. She's a spindly creature, and I often think of her like a spider with Mr. Henker as her cocooned prey. She likes to wear elegant and sleek clothes but for the hunt chooses to wear practical tactical wear. She wears elegant gold jewellery and is almost never found without a pair of red heels. She loves to wear red, honestly.

She is a terrifying person because she's absolutely convinced that her way of life is perfect. She believes that she is in the right at all times. She believes she is morally sound for kidnapping Mr. Henker and forcing him to be her pet. That's why she is so cruel. She's cruel because she thinks she's right.

Mr. Henker

65+ years old

7'0 but always slouches into nothingness

He has short cropped white hair and pale blue eyes, much like Friedrich's. He once was a broad, powerfully built CEO who had ambitions to make the world his own, and he looked the part. When Mrs. Henker took an interest in him, he played the part thinking that he could take advantage of her, but she ended up kidnapping him and breaking him into the broken shell we see now.

He's deathly thin with gaunt features. His eyes are like hollow sockets and he's lost so much weight that almost all the fat reserves on his face have been depleted. He looks like a walking skeleton, but Mrs. Henker insists on him wearing his old clothes from when he was healthy and strong, which now hang on him like rags.

Mr. Henker was once a powerful man, but every day he wishes he could go back in time and marry the girl from his hometown and live a simpler life. He's only alive because each time he tries to die, Mrs. Henker forces him back to life. She keeps a small team of doctors around to prevent him from ending his suffering. He hates Mrs. Henker, and in turn, hates the children he sired.

Lisa Henker

42 years old

6'1 (the shortest of the siblings)

Lisa looks and acts like a heron. Lithe, sleek, and always looking perfect in poise and practise. She wears her brown hair (streaked with grey) in a tight bun and wears minimal makeup. She has blue-grey eyes and sharp features. High cheekbones, a tight mouth, a sharp jawline. There is a sense that she's constantly judging the world around her. She is.

Wears shawls, cardigans or turtlenecks almost always. Often likes wearing leggings and long skirts. As we all know, she still wears her late lover Evan's engagement ring as a reminder of what trying to appease her family has cost her.

Friedrich Henker

40 years old

7'2 (the tallest in the family)

Where Lisa is graceful, Friedrich is powerful. Built like his father in that he's broad and powerful, but he has the same elegance of his mother and older sister. I picture him often like a snow leopard. He doesn't lunge in for the kill, but rather waits until the weakest of the flock stumbles before he attacks.

He has white-blonde hair like his father and the same tight features. Incredibly handsome with a big beard and moustache. Likes to wear his hair like his fathers' when he was in his prime.

Friedrich used to bring women to his family on a regular basis to provide hunts. Friedrich's wife is too traumatized by the hunt to see the family. However, the hunt went awry in that König didn't end up killing her. Friedrich is sometimes dissapointed that König didn't kill her, but he likes that she's terrified of him and her children.

Interestingly, Freidrich hides his worst traits from his childen. The eldest has an idea of what his father is like, and dislikes him for it. He has a very strained relationship with his eldest as a result.

Stefan Henker

39 years old

6'5

Stefan is the broadest man. He's a bit soft now, he doesn't really work out (not since his wife's suicide). He keeps his head shaved and his beard trimmed close to his jaw. He has brown hair like Lisa's, streaked with premature greying due to the stress in his life.

He's often wearing comfortable professor type clothes. Honestly has the warmest and most welcoming presence, most likely because he's genuinely a good person. He likes to wear his late wife's wedding rings on a necklace. He has blue eyes like his mother, a fact which haunts him every morning in the mirror.

He once had a good relationship with his sons, but they were taken in by an uncle on his mother's side and has had limited interactions since. Is doing his best to convince the boys he didn't murder their mother and that the family is sick, but can't get through to them.

Juan

49 years old

5'10

Juan is a man connected to the Carribean mecial industry. He has long black hair streaked with grey, terracotta coloured skin and beautiful sea-green eyes. Likes to have a beard and moustache. He likes wearing whatever's fashionable and 'sexy'. Looks like a DILF, honestly, and he uses it to his advantage to lure in younger women to come to his disgusting celebrity parties (filled with drugs, SA, orgies and general debauchery.

Klara Henker

37 years old

6'3

Dirty blond hair kept in a ponytail or loose down her back, Klara is the party girl of the family. She's got a brilliant smile and beautiful blue eyes like her mother. She complains that she has to dye her hair now to keep her youthful look, but everyone can see her crow's feet around her eyes. Looks like a model and acts like it too. She loves to focus on her makeup and accessories. She is always kept in perfect shape through regular plastic surgery modifications by the best in the world, keeping her looking effortlessly beautiful.

She's the most two-faced, as we've learned. She's truly a sick person. She chose Juan because she could get the most money and power out of him. He wanted her name on his arm. They host regular orgies and wild parties filled with debauchery in their many mansions around the world.

Annalise Henker

17 years old

5'11

Annalise has naturally blond hair but dyes it black to be like her father's. She has hazel eyes, but has many of the sharper Henker features like a tight jaw and long nose. She likes to wear dark, modest clothes and wears her long hair in a ponytail, though the strands by the front are often loose around her face.

Doesn't wear makeup really and has a splattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks alongside a bit of acne.

She's a neat, lovely young woman who's determined to change the family, much like her mother. Little to anyone's knowledge (except maybe Lisa), she has been telling her younger cousins about the family dirt and has been doing her best to change the legacy of the family.

When Annalise comes into power as the new head of the family, the world may even be able to enter a golden age.

Alexander (König) Henker

38 year old

6'10

Inheriting the natural height and power of his father, König is known as the most brutal of the family. He has blue eyes, short-cropped dirty-blonde hair and the a softer face than the rest of his siblings, something he inherited from his grandfather, who was widely despised in the family for his softness and generosity. As such, he was ridiculed for his looks all his life, leading to him wearing a hood at all times. He has a broad frame, and due to a long life in the military kept to exceptional fitness standards.

König once was a bloodthirsty creature. He was raised to see life as a means to an end, a toy to play with. He is almost completely lacking in any form of empathy, but feels emotions quite strongly. He's learned to be strategic and calculated with every aspect of his life, both to keep power and also to stay in control of himself. I highly suspect König to have traits of ASPD (antisocial personality disorder) in this AU.

He keeps to a moral code of his own choosing. Upon meeting and falling in love with reader, he changes this moral code to be more suitable for her (no longer kills for pleasure namely). He is a surprisingly good father, but sometimes struggles with empathy, which is where reader fills his gaps in nicely.

His children are raised knowing there is great wealth in the family, but barely knows they exist. They do form bonds with Stefan, Lisa and her family, but they only meet their cousins when they have matured and become capable of distancing themselves from the cruelty of the Henker name.

And that's that! Sorry for the long post, but I do have a lot of thoughts about things going on in the background of this story, as you can probably tell. I hope this helps clarify their looks and gives you a better idea of who they are! Also, because of the spoilers, please forgive me for responding so late. Thank you for reading!

[finns-gifs]

[gremlinmodeshrew]

Now, I’m curious, what is Kidnapper König like with his pretty little Pet who is on their period?

What is he like when they’re ovulating? Hungry and feral and insatiable? Trying to conceal how animalistic he becomes?

Would Pet hide it from him, or would they beg and plead for his rough leathery hands on their stomach to ease the throbbing cramps?

Ignore if you are uninterested! I’m loving the way you characterise this cruel bestial excuse of a man, and how sickeningly sweet and tender he is with Pet. Hope you’re well 💖

Okay so, I misread this as period and got super confused, but now I reread this with an actual brain and I think I remember how to answer asks again.

Now, for an asexual/sex-repulsed individual, König would respect that. He will not force himself on his partner. That's not what a good husband does to his wife, so he won't do that. His goal is to make a happy, healthy family, and forcing his wife to have sex with him isn't a part of that. He's seen enough of that in his own life and wants to avoid it. So, thus, if he sees them ovulate, he just deals with himself and tries to pretend that one day they'll say yes. It's quite pathetic, honestly.

But what if she was interested in sex? What if he thought he had an actual chance? Well, then that's entirely different.

Before Pet actually lets him be with her intimately? He's just a bit... Grumpy. Surly. Sulky. He desperately wants to have children and the fact that he has to restrain himself when she's ovulating is killing him on the inside. Why won't you just give him a baby? Dude, that's so fucked. How could you do this to him.

But he has a way of dealing with this!

He masturbates.

A lot.

An uncomfortable amount.

He probably keeps meals short and interactions limited just so he can go upstairs and goon until he gets it all out of his system, the sick bastard. The entire time he's thinking about how his cum's being wasted and he's miserable.

Still, he wants you to trust him and come to him on your own terms, so he'll still be soft and gentle, maybe a bit more than usual. He'll swallow his frustration by complimenting his Pet and cooking her more elaborate meals to prove to you what an excellent provider he is. He takes advantage of the emotional vulnerability/hormone imbalance by chipping away at your psyche with soft kindness.

But let it be known that he goes out of his way to work out hard in the garden. He's going out of his way to split wood while shirtless and sweaty right in front of you. He's playing with the primitive parts of your brain when he flexes his muscles when pushing a wheelbarrow full of fertilizer by you. Worst of all is when he starts complaining about getting 'hot' when carving in the basement and starts going shirtless and commando in sweatpants. Yes, he absolutely adjusts himself in his pants when he sees you looking at the cockprint on his thigh.

Anything and everything he can do to play to your subconscious is free game for him.

When Pet finally consents, König's a beast. He's on top of you whenever you give him a chance. He's insatiable, determined to keep you full of his spend until it takes. He's a man on a mission, and that mission is to fix his trauma by raising children to be better than him. His way of healing his pain is by making a happy family home. It's twisted and wrong, but it drives him every moment of every day.

When you're ovulating, he's got one chance in a month to achieve this lofty goal. You'd best believe he's militant in pursuit of his goal.

So thus, he introduces you to the idea of cockwarming, sitting you on his lap between sessions as he works, waiting until his refractory period is over so he can take you again. When he can't be inside you, he's plugging you to keep his cum deep inside. Anything he can do to ensure it takes.

He tries to restrain himself, but admittedly he sometimes goes a bit too far, and you end up sore and needy for his comfort afterwards. He maybe might just possibly could be doing it slightly maybe possibly on purpose. There is a very good chance that he likes hurting Pet slightly for his own sexual needs. If that means stretching her too fast on his massive length, then he'll do it. Maybe he'll thrust a bit too hard, deep, fast and leave you whimpering and tearing up.

Afterwards, he gets to dab away your tears and give you meaningless apologies as he rubs polysporin into the scratches and bite marks he's left on your skin. Your pain is quickly forgotten when you're being wrapped in a warm blanket and being praised to the heavens for being so good for him. He's done his research on providing aftercare, just so he can go a little bit too far and keep you under his thumb.

He's got a horrible breeding kink. He just gets so excited knowing that you'll be carrying his seed inside you for months. He needs it so badly that the moment you let him in, there's no way to push him out again (no pun intended).

He wants his family, Pet. He's just doing what's best for both of you.

König Dump

AU Masterlist

Kidnapper!König

[gremlinmodeshrew]

Girl I just binged all of the kidnapper konig and my lord. I am creeped out to the max but also like… that would work on me 😬

You’ve genuinely written it so well, he’s so intelligent that I’m second guessing everything I read 😭. It’s actually insane and so so admirable how much energy you’ve put in, and it has totally paid off, this is so realistic!!

It’s also really refreshing to see a nice kidnapper (well… as nice as one can be), I think it’s a really interesting take on our beloved big boy… and accurate too. Least I think so 🫶🫶

Hope you have a great day/ night!!

OHMYGOSHOHMYGOSHOHMYGOSH THANK YOUUUUUUUUU

I beg your pardon. I'm a bit more coherent now. Anyways! thank you so much for enjoying my silly little story! I will say, I'm so glad you find König intelligent because I always get so scared when I'm writing him that he's just... Not hitting the mark? He's meant to be smart, but I am not smart and so that makes it incredibly difficult to write his character well. He's a right bastard, he is. I love him but I also love to hate him, you know what I mean? He's always throwing hooks in the story, and honestly? He kinda scares me. Would it work on me? Very probably.

That's the worst part. König makes it easy to give in. He's nice, gentle, a caregiver sort. He gives you tasks to make you feel productive and he gives you time to relax. Before you know it, everything about your life has been planned to the tiniest detail. He's suffocating, but you can't feel it because it all feels natural.

The scariest part of König isn't that he's a kidnapper, a murderer, a cannibal, none of those things. The scariest part about Kidnapper!König is that he makes you feel like everything's okay.

Anyways, I am so so thankful for your wonderful compliments. Literally am squeaking about it to my boyfriend and he's telling me that I deserve the compliments, but he also looks like he doesn't even understand the concept of Tumblr. It's okay though. He's trying very hard.

[gremlinmodeshrew]

Whenever the Henker siblings are together, their spouses have their own support group🧍‍♀️

Do they ever. The family is painfully close, but they're also loud. And energetic. And chaotic. They're a lot, to put it simply.

The family communicates by ribbing each other often. Often, this escalates into full blown squawk fests as they pop off on one another. Their spouses often have to reign things in and remind them that no, Klara, you cannot throw mashed potatoes at your brother and Stefan, please don't bring up Freidrich's first date because that was awful. König often has to be reminded to not go on and on about history because it's boring everybody at the table (except his father, who's eagerly taking notes).

The family is always yapping, sun up to sun down. It's hard to believe they have intact vocal chords. But, the constant buzz brings life. Or at least, enough life to remind them to please be quiet, it's nearly midnight and you need to sleep.

They drink and expect you to keep up and they watch movies and wait for you to laugh. By the way, the argument to get people to agree on a movie is nigh insufferable. Usually the spouses have to intervene to get anything moving forward.

If it were up to these people, they'd do nothing but shoot jabs at one another all day. It takes the spouses and the mother to get anything done in this household. König's father tries, but he's usually talked over. Poor guy.

If you can handle the chaos, the laughs, the energy, it's good fun! But oh goodness is it exhausting. The spouses tend to huddle together by the end of the second day to exchange stories of their spouse's latest antics. König's stories, sadly, are not the worst. That title goes squarely to Lisa, the youngest.

[gremlinmodeshrew]

this instantly reminded me of cat hybrid könig and horangi <3

Yes absolutely. It's always after they do something absolutely horrible though.

Horangi loves to cause shit. It's just his nature. He likes to explore too hard, you know? He likes to cause problems and find out.

Sometimes this means damage. A lot of damage. A lot of water damage after he fucks with the sink. König is horrified, but he can't stop a train in motion. He's one little cat and he knows enough about physics to know that a little maine coon is not enough to stop a hyper train going off the rails. All he can do is prepare for the worst. The worst? No crunchies at night.

When reader comes home, the downstairs neighbour has filed a complaint and an emergency plumber has been called. You're horrified to find a man bent over your sink, and when he turns and smiles, you think you're going to feint.

It's not quite clear how, but you know, from the cosmic flow of the universe, that Horangi caused this.

You're furious.

They're locked out of your room and forced to deal with the plumber alone. König is begging and crying to get in and away from the strange man while Horangi is desperately trying to 'fix' the situation.

König clobbers him, sits on him, screams at him, everything. Reader blocks him out and refuses to take his offerings. Horangi fucked up bad.

But the sink is fixed, the site's mopped up, and you're able to go back to normal. It's too difficult to stay mad when you keep getting little gifts of cute toys every morning. Also, König is starting to get violent without his treats, and you already deal with enough with one shit disturber.

So thus, a peace treaty is formed, and reader goes back to playing and giving treats and both cats are happy. Occasionally, König will still punch Hornagi as they walk down the street.

Just in case Horangi gets ideas.

[gremlinmodeshrew]

I hope you're feeling better and that your day is going okay ❤️.

I love seeing the dynamics in the cat hybrid au with reader, Konig, and Horangi! I know they both want to share the reader, but what is their relationship like? Are they lovers, or is it a kind of fwb thing going. If so, were they together before they met reader? Like what's their history with each other 👀. I would love to see how relationship dynamics is explored between hybrids and how it differs from humans.

Sorry if it sounds pressuring of me dumping all these questions 😅. I adore your writing style and how you're able to characterize those two so well, especially given that all that's provided are voice lines, limited info provided by the VA's, and the character designs. Kudos to you👏. I hope both sides of your pillow are cool and that your room is just the right temperature to have the fattest nap ever. 🫶

No no don't feel bad! Instead get mad at me for not answering asks until now! I get so bad at it. It's partially why my asks are always open. I just get to them in my own time when I can. But I always get around to it! The only thing I delete are the spam asks which are really super annoying and they make me so made oh my gosh and-

Anyways, back to some regularly scheduled CatTac

König and Horangi started off as close friends when in the lab. In all honestly, relationships were a foreign concept and heavily discouraged. However, once they were set free, they really only had each other. It took a long time, but one day, after a long day, Horangi just cuddled in with König. He shifted back to human and König followed, and Horangi kissed him. He thought König would push him away, but he didn't. It seemed that both of them needed a moment of softness.

In time, the relationship grew. König and Horangi both realize that a relationship is exactly what they need. Sometimes it tends to be more friendly, more often it's a relationship between two lovers. They act like an old married couple, with Horangi being the bossy little man bullying König into doing what he wants. But they both like it that way. Anyways, when it comes down to it, König is the one making decisions. It's very silly. Everyone thinks Horangi is the one in control, but König's the one calling the shots. It's very, very silly.

Horangi will be buzzing around, bouncing and yowling and going on about something and König can just swat him and Horangi will go dead silent. Or at least he's quiet until something else gets stuck in his head and he just has to talk about it. Now. Now please.

Reader ends up being a little bit of a gap closer between them. Horangi isn't one for physical affection, König craves it. Reader can cuddle König. Horangi really loves to yap. König's mostly silent. Reader turns out to be a great conversationalist. Reader fills the gaps they can't, and they love her all the more for it.

They sorta pass reader between them without much thought. If anything, it's up to reader to put up boundaries to give herself some peace and quiet.

Now, as to characterizing, I kinda flip flop. König has barely any character at all, so I just make it up as I go. They boy is mine. He has Activision's name but that boy is my own construction. He's got bare elements from the bio, but I really turned him into my own baby. It's very unhealthy. Activision owns him, I gave him the love he needed.

Horangi is weird. I like to focus on the party-hard fail-hard part of him. But he's also a calm and collected soldier in a PMC. He misses the silliness of his old life, which is why he's always up to mischief. However, he knows when to lock in. He's got that perfect balance of dumb fuckery and calm that I love to play with. I really do like making Horangi a guy who loves to fuck around and find out. Guy fucked around and found out hard enough to have to run from his own country. The man creates chaos wherever he goes, and he loves it.

So yeah, I fluctate on the characters. I like making them their own, outside of CoD. I really say I only write CoD in theory, but in practise they're not in character at all. It's just pure silliness over here. Don't expect grounded, lore-focused characters from me. Just silly.

[chronictranssexuality]

"you don't owe anyone anything" You are a tar pit. Speak for yourself. I personally owe the cafe employees my dishes put away and my friends a listening ear and small scared insects a cup and a gentle trip outside. Hyperindividualism is a rancid infection borne of capitalism and willfully misinterpreted therapyspeak and I will defy it by continuing to be kind regardless of whether or not it benefits me personally

[gremlinmodeshrew]

Fear is Your Only God by Mala Sangre

One of these days I won't binge post massive stories in long sections. Until then, here we are. You're stuck with me. If you follow me, this is what you've signed up for. Months of silence followed by months of content. It just do be the way. I have to hibernate every once in a while, you know?

Enjoy some sci-fi slavery abo with König!

Art from This Post

Wordcount 7K

Tws: political violence, riots, slavery, abo,

Story below the cut

Fear is Your Only God by Mala Sangre

After the news broadcast, you and Kyle agreed that it was best to head to the square as quickly as you could.

“I’m just hoping everything is alright,” you said again as you hurried along.

“I’m sure we’re just overthinking it,” Kyle assured you, “Johnny would’ve texted me if it hit the fan.”

“You can curse, you know,” you commented.

“I do my best to avoid speaking like you,” Kyle replied.

You huffed, but carried along behind him anyways. König followed along diligently. You felt that if anything, he was the one slowing down for you.

“It’s just a few minutes away, right?” you asked as you turned a corner.

“From here?” Kyle hummed, “about five minutes I’d say. Not long.”

“Could it be too long?” you worried.

“No, I don’t think so,” Kyle said definitively, “if it was too late we’d know it by now.”

You looked around at the billboards and the electric bikes lined up on the sidewalks. You saw an electric bus pull into the station and let off a crowd of techheads and glamstars. You sighed, but that was just the typical crowd downtown. At least techheads kept some grounding in reality despite augmenting their bodies with enhancements. The glamstars were just lost in a delusion of glitter, gold and stardom. You sometimes wondered if their feet ever touched the ground.

“Looks like we’re getting close,” you said as you passed the group by.

“Seems like it,” Kyle agreed as he pushed by a street vendor selling some copycat merch.

You followed him through the steadily thickening crowd. Where there were once a few kids playing games on their phones in alleyways there were now teenagers rocking music from blasters in their chest and businessmen typing codes into their smartwatches. You nearly tripped over a particularly short woman guiding her slave on a leash. Your lip curled at the sight.

“Seems a bit tasteless, don’t you think?” you sneered as she passed.

“I’m telling you man,” Kyle raised his voice over the crowd, “that’s not as uncommon as you think.”

“I think I know enough of the world,” you complained as you followed behind.

“You’ve been in your dad’s cafe too much to know,” Kyle called back. He glanced behind him at König and then down at you. “Can you help keep her safe? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’m worried about her in a crowd like this.”

Above you König nodded before stepping closer to your side. Wordlessly he pushed his shoulders out and held his arms slightly from his side, effectively creating a cage around you. You looked up and gave him a smile. He was too focussed on the crowd to see it. Your smile fell as you looked back forward to try and keep up with Kyle.

“I think we’re here,” you spoke above the din of the crowd.

“I think so,” Kyle agreed as he made room around him, “the stage is just up there.”

True to his word, you saw a few people standing up on a raised platform. There weren’t many crowded together. You counted three men and a couple of women. The one who stood out to you was the stout man with a mohawk.

“Isn’t subtle, is he,” you said as you pointed at Johnny.

“That’s not his style,” Kyle replied, “he likes to be in front. He likes to call himself an influencer. I think he’s teetering on becoming a glamstar, but unlike them, I think he might actually start a movement.”

“He doesn’t look like one,” you said.

“Doesn’t need to look like one to be one,” Kyle commented, “I think he likes to consider himself some rugged activist type. Which he is, but I think he’s also a cocky prick.”

“Who’re the others on stage?” you asked.

“Wouldn’t know,” Kyle pursed his lips into a line, “I’m sure Johnny knows them. He knows most people in these circles.”

“So he can back up what he says?” you asked.

“For the most part,” Kyle said, “but I think he gets a bit too big for his boots if you ask me.”

“Do you know when he’ll be speaking?”

Kyle hummed and looked up at the clock on town hall, “I think Johnny starts speaking at two.”

“What time is it now?” you asked softly.

“It’s just coming up on two,” Kyle checked his phone briefly before nodding and saying “yeah, he’s speaking at two. I’m guessing it’s an intermission between speakers right now.”

“So any minute now?” you looked up at König again.

“Any minute,” he confirmed.

“Do you know how many speakers there are today?” you looked up at the group on stage.

“Yeah, there’s four today. Johnny’s going to be talking about that a new law he wanted to put forth,” Kyle said and bit his lip. “I don’t know how well it will go down though. I don’t think people will want to hear about it.”

“What’s his proposal?” you asked.

Kyle sighed heavily and ran a hand through his short black hair, “I think he wanted a compromise with the government.”

“A compromise?” you asked, confused by what Kyle meant.

“The idea Johnny has is to work with the existing legal system. As it stands, everything in our country relies on slavery. Manufacturing, entertainment, education, it all needs slavery to function. Or at least, it does now,” Kyle’s features softened as he said, “I heard that once, we didn’t need those things. But that’s not the case anymore.

“Either way, Johnny knows that banning slavery overnight would be through our country in chaos. We literally can’t ban it in the way everybody seems to want to. But what we can do,” Kyle smiled, “is work with the system. Modify it. Change it over time until slavery becomes less and less important, less easy to use. Make it so that slavery is the more difficult option.”

“You think people will change their minds?” you snorted.

“They’ll have to once they start having to treat slaves like human beings,” Kyle retorted, “as it is, big warehouses don’t even have to feed slaves to get them to work. They make slaves pay for their food with the very wages they pay them. It keeps them trapped in a perpetual cycle of making the same five dollars over and over again.”

You scrunched your face in disgust.

“It’s pretty common,” Kyle remarked, “lots of big companies do it. Small ones too. If they can get away with it, they will.”

“But that’s inhumane!” you exclaimed.

“It’s inhumane, but remember,” Kyle levelled you with a look, “slaves aren’t legally human.”

You felt sick.

“So yeah, Johnny’s big plan is to make it so that slaves are given human rights,” Kyle explained, “his big campaign is providing food, water, shelter and education to every slave. It’s the thing he’s been pushing for since he first arrived in Northland.”

“Is Britania any different from Northland?” you asked.

Kyle shrugged, “In the ways that matter. Once all of the isles were formally collected into Britannia, slavery was heavily regulated. Ireland was the one to fight against it most, but evidently Britannia was stronger. But because of what was once Ireland, the regulations for slavery are tighter than even Japan’s. Slaves are required to have a living salary, all their basic needs met and a ‘provable chance to be freed’.”

“That sounds incredible,” you looked down to your feet shamefully.

“It’s better than here for sure,” Kyle said proudly, “but unfortunately Northland’s always been a bit behind, even before the unification days. I think this place was called… Oh what were the names…”

“I think one of them was America,” you offered.

“America was one of them. So was a place called Mexico. I think that was above America, but I can’t be sure. I know Canada was the other,” Kyle mused, “and then a bunch of little islands in the south, but those split off to become The Southern Isles.”

“So even before unification days we were bad?” you asked.

“Apparently work conditions were awful,” Kyle said, “and there were lots of divisions between groups of people. Men and women; alphas, betas and omegas; blacks, whites and asians; even different sexualities. It was crazy back then.”

“I mean, people still fight over secondary sexes,” you pointed out.

“But nowadays people don’t really care about that as much as they care about how rich you are,” Kyle countered, “I mean, these days, if you’re too poor you’re put in the SDH.”

“And if you’re rich…” you mused.

“Nobody’s ever rich enough,” Kyle laughed, “not even the people in the sunlight levels.”

You felt König clench behind you. You looked up at him with a frown, “Sorry, is this making you uncomfortable?”

König didn’t say anything, but you could feel his breath fanning down over the crown of your head. You looked at Kyle and said, “Maybe we should talk about something else.”

Kyle nodded and turned back to the clock, “Looks like Johnny will be speaking soon.”

“How soon?”

“Any minute now.”

“You said that-”

The air crackled as someone at the podium grabbed a mic 

“Hello everyone!” Johnny cheered as he took the mic, “I’m so glad to be here today!”

You jabbed an elbow into Kyle’s side, “What’s with his accent?”

“He’s from the far north of Britannia,” he told you.

You focussed back on Johnny.

“Today I’m here to talk to you about a cause we all hold dear to our hearts; we need to talk about slavery in Northland,” Johnny thumped a fist against his chest, “as some of you may know, I lost a good friend to slavery. I’ve never forgotten about him, and I never will. When I lost my friend, I vowed to ensure that nobody would ever lose someone like I did. The pain it caused,” Johnny shook his head, “you can’t live with it. You can’t.

“But you can live with change. And that’s what we’re here today to do. We’re here to make change. We’re here to reshape our entire civilization. Our entire world is built on the backs of humans that aren’t even given human rights!”

The crowd erupted in cheering as Johnny straightened his back. You could see his grin all the way from where you stood.

“But the problem is, we can’t abolish slavery.”

The crowd went silent. Johnny’s grin fell from his face.

“We want to, but we can’t. Our entire economy relies on slavery,” he said carefully, “if we were to abolish slavery overnight, Northland as we know it would collapse. Everything we know would be lost.”

Murmurers snaked through the crowd as Johnny spoke. You felt something shift in the air.

“We can’t change things overnight, but we can make slow and steady changes to a better future,” you could hear Johnny’s voice begin to waver, “if we make slow, steady progressive change, it’ll be easier than just changing everything all at once. We can adapt our economy slowly and we can come out stronger than before!

“If we’re just careful about how we manage our changes-”

A woman screamed out, “We want change NOW!”

A few cheers came from those around her.

“But we can’t change now,” Johnny protested, “we need to work on slow and steady changes, like giving slaves human-”

“Slavery needs to be banned!” a man yelled. More cheers followed him.

“You’re talking like an agent!” someone added on.

“I’m talking about giving slaves human rights!” Johnny countered, his face growing redder with each passing moment, “I’m talking about making lasting legal changes to our entire country!”

“It’s not enough!” someone yelled.

“Ban slavery now! Ban slavery now!”

As soon as the chant started, you knew it was over for Johnny. The crowd had already decided what they wanted to hear, and Johnny was none of that. You watched as Johnny’s face morphed into a mask of stark horror ass the crowd turned against him. You felt horrible for the poor man. Of all the people you had heard in you life, Johnny had been the most reasonable voice. He seemed like he actually had a plan of action.

Johnny tried again and again to get another word in, but the crowd was having none of it. They screamed on and on until Johnny finally held his hands up and left the podium.

You noticed one man sneer as Johnny passed him by before walking up to the podium himself.

As soon as he stepped up, the crowd went silent.

“This is one of the other popular activists,” Kyle told you.

The man ran a hand over his shaved head and grinned as the crowd waited for him to speak.

“Slavery is wrong! We’re in the thirty-first century. We’re human! We’re HERE,” the man bellowed into the megaphone. His wild expression was wide and intense, and you felt the need to shy away from the bellowing man.

“Who is this guy?” you whispered under his breath.

“I know we are better than this. We all are. So fuck the feds! Fuck em all to hell!” The man bellowed and the crowd cheered wildly. He stepped back as though to bask in the glory of being heard, and the man gave a triumphant grin. 

“Each and every one of us here, we all have one common goal. Look around you, look how many there are of us! This is just one small town. Imagine a city. THE ENTIRE POPULATION OF NORTHLAND! We can spread our voice through the radio and holoscreens, get it all over social media! Let the fuckers in charge know that we won’t stand for this any longer!” the man crowed loudly into the megaphone.

You pressed into König’s side, who in turn wrapped an arm around you protectively. The pressure of König’s arm pressed down on your side, reminding you to try and breathe a bit slower. It was a little thing to help make you feel more at ease. This time though, things felt different.

“What’s going to happen to Johnny?” you yelled into Kyle’s ear.

Kyle shook his head and frowned before yelling back, “I don’t know. Nothing good.”

You winced and slunk down. You had the horrible feeling that everything was about to go terribly wrong.

“Do anything you need to get their attention,” the speaker yelled, “let them know we aren’t fucking playing around anymore! This shit needs to stop!” the man yelled ferociously before stepping back from the podium and looking over the crowd. “I know that I may be one man, but with your help we can be an army.”

Kyle’s eyes snapped open, “What the fuck is this guy doing?”

You frowned, “What do you mean?”

“He’s fucking… No way… He’s gonna get these people rioting if he isn’t careful,” Kyle quipped back with a worried tone.

“Let them all know who we are, and what we want!” the man yelled and finally stepped back to allow a familiar face to step up to the podium. He quickly picked up the megaphone again to yell one last thing, “and remember, keep fighting!”

“Keep fighting, keep fighting!” a young woman began chanting, loudly before a few others chimed in. The chant grew louder and louder, sweeping from the front of the crowd to the back until they were all one chanting mob, roaring as one great lion in the open area.

Another speaker stepped forward but a woman held him back. The two exchanged glances before saying something to each other. Johnny, on the other hand, was staring in disbelief. It looked like he was watching the library of Alexandria burn to his feet in front of him. The sheer devastation and betrayal on his face was palpable. You could feel his pain all the way from the stage. You’d never spoken to the man before, and yet in that moment, you felt you could understand him perfectly.

Another speaker tried to say something to the bald man but he blew him off completely. Whatever he said must’ve been shockingly rude to get such a reaction. You looked at Kyle but he seemed transfixed by what was happening, almost as though he was petrified in place.

You looked up at König to find him staring not at the stage, but right at you. His blue eyes were boring down into you with a ferocious intensity. You withered under the sheer energy radiating off his form. You could smell his scent, pungent and sharp amidst the crowd. At this point you could pick it out a mile away. And yet, while normally you’d feel comforted by the smell, at this moment it only sent a spike of anxiety through you.

A young man ripped the megaphone away from the man, but it was already too late.

“Everyone, please settle down,” a blond man said into the mic, but his nervous tone came through, only seeming to further wind up the crowd.

“Never stop fighting!” one woman screamed loudly and the crowd cheered in response.

The blonde nodded nervously and looked to the sepia-toned woman beside him for reassurance. She put a hand on his shoulder before taking the mic for herself.

“We won’t,” she said calmly, “we all know that’s our goal today. We want to make progress for the future. Now please, if you could calm down we can continue the talks-”

You nudged Kyle with your elbow to grab his attention. He leaned in close to hear you a bit better.

“I think something’s going on,” you muttered.

“I think so too,” Kyle mused before straightening up.

On the stage, the young man rubbed a hand over his rotund belly as he stepped up to the crowd. You felt like he looked as though he would puke at any moment.

“Hey everybody! Thanks for coming by!” the man started before covering his mouth, “sorry about that. Just haven’t been feeling good lately.

“Anyways! My name is Kevin Ngyung, and today we want to gather together to talk about slave rights going into the future. As you know, nowadays slaves don’t have any rights at all. But that’s not what we want. We want them to be free one day, just like us! From the cybergoths to the business guys up top, we all want what’s best for our slaves.”

Kevin smiled as he talked, the typical ecofan. Even in the cold he refused to wear a consumerist coat over his naturally woven t-shirt. He looked the perfect part an activist with his undyed baseball cap covering his twinkling eyes. Bright, friendly, welcoming. It was a surprise he was willing to use social media like Groopy, but you guessed some causes trumped personal vendettas against modern machinery.You wondered if you’d ever seen him before.

You smelled something strange in the air. What was it?

“Now right now, you guys probably know that nobody has made an actual plan to make a good change,” Kevin prattled on ignorantly, “but as of today, we’re creating a group on Groopy for everyone to come in and share ideas! Just scan the code on the podium and you’ll get an invite to the server. I’ll give you guys a moment to do that,” Kevin swallowed thickly and stepped away from the podium to talk to the woman from earlier.

You narrowed your eyes at their exchange. As they talked, you got the feeling that Kevin was feeling too sick to continue. The woman, on the other hand, insisted.

Meanwhile, the smell grew thicker. Heavier. Oilier.

You wiped your nose and looked around. You saw a cybergoth woman take off her helmet and rub at her silver nose and sniffle. To your left, an ecofan took off their straw hat to wave the air. You looked around more to try and figure out where the smell was coming from.

Just when you thought you might have an idea of where it was coming from, Kyle grabbed your shoulder and turned you around. You stumbled as you were quickly pushed past all sorts of activist groups. Your shoulders slammed into bodies and jostled you to your knees.

“Get up!” Kyle hissed as Kevin started to speak again.

“Kyle?” you asked as murmurs began to start.

Kyle glanced behind him with wide eyes, “We need to get out of here.”

“Why?”

“Agents,” he spat as he hauled you to your feet.

You heard the crowd gasp and whipped your head around to take a look at the stage. Your eyes widened.

Kevin was doubled over beside the podium. The woman was patting his back and looking around, but everyone else had left the stage. You were about to say something when you saw Kevin heave once, twice, and then he was gone.

BOOM.

Your jaw dropped as you watched the stage be splattered in an array of viscera and the crowd erupted. Screams pierced your ears as you scrambled to find any support. You slumped into a set of steady arms and looked up.

König’s eyes were still flat. It was like he couldn’t care less about what he’d just seen. He turned to look down and narrowed his eyes. He didn’t need to say it to get the idea across.

Hurry up.

You were dragged away helplessly. If it weren’t for König, you’d have been lost in the tidal wave of the crowd. As it was he carried you above, floating like a gull in the air.

He moved easily through the crowd. He was almost graceful, following a dance woven in the wild frenzy of the panicked crowd with utmost ease.

You finally placed the smell in the air: Gas canisters.

You grabbed a cloth and covered your mouth in an instant. You hoped König’s mask would eb enough.

You screamed for Kyle and, by the grace of God, he was at your side in an instant. You realised he had the same idea when you saw the rag over his face.

“They’re releasing canisters!” you yelled.

“I know,” Kyle yelled back, “now get out of here.”

He shoved you back into König’s arms and turned around. Just before he was lost to the crowd, you heard him yell, “I need to find Johnny!”

And he was gone. Flashes of silver, gold, black and neon colours flashed before your eyes as the crowd swallowed him whole. Your eyes rolled around wildly as you tried to find him but you knew he was lost.

Beside yourself, you surged forth and screamed his name.

König wordlessly grabbed you back and hauled you to his side. He glared at you as you writhed in his grasp.

“We can’t leave him!” you begged as you felt König continue marching forward.

You screamed and beat his chest, your desperate pleading turning into haggard bawling as he made his way through the crowd in great strides. You were so pathetic in your person that König had to pick you up in his arms and haul you over his shoulder. You heard him grunt, and then he was silent once more, any complaint washed away with the desperation of the masses.

Over König’s shoulder you could see the scramble by the stage. Agents had crawled out of the woodwork to worm their way into the masses of activists. You saw them club stragglers down before swarming them in masses of bodies. Some tried to bring their friends and families from beneath their foot, but they were soon stomped with cleated steel soles and pushed aside in favor of grabbing more free hands. In the distance, blue and red lights flashed as a police van pushed carelessly through the crowd.

You cried into König’s shoulder until it was soaked.

König didn’t falter once. He only marched forward with fervence. He was an immovable mass, keeping you sheltered from the grasping hands of the damned as he stomped on the face of the fallen as he passed. He didn’t look down to see the blood that coated his steel toe boots.

Your eyes were blinded by bright lights. You covered your eyes and scrambled back. Wordlessly, König drew you from his shoulder into a bridal carry. You shielded yourself against the wave of bodies crashing by you senselessly.

You wondered how far you’d run once the crowd started to disperse. How long had König carried you?

You slumped in his steady arms. His chest thrummed against the skin of your cheek, heart thumping even through the thickness of his woolen greatcoat. You raised a hand and clutched at the scarf he had slung around his neck and used it to wipe your face clean of snot and sobs.

“Why didn’t you follow him?” you asked meakly.

König didn’t reply. He only carried you.

You curled into his shoulder shakily, the winter wind biting your other cheek bitterly.

The city passed by in a blur. Neon signs and paper flyers melded together into a blur of acrid smoke exhausts curling in your lungs. City trucks trundled by with shudders and shakes like beetles bumbling along a branch. You watched as a bus rolled up their ramp and agonisingly pulled away from the stop. The grey of city architecture swallowed the world whole.

“Is he going to be okay?” you hoped.

König didn’t falter as he carried you. By this point, the last of the activists had run into their ratholes long ago. There was no reason for him to carry you now. You tried to get down, but König refused.

You didn’t try again.

The world was once again filled with the din of car horns bleating and hawkers singing on the street. The smell of warm bread came from a stall on your left before washing away into the distance.

You thought about Kyle in the crowds. He wasn’t a big man. Not small, but he wasn’t big like König. You’d seen how the smaller had been trampled underneath. You sent a silent prayer for their bodies to be found quickly.

The shock washed from your system, letting the terror of the tide flood you.

“Kyle,” you gasped as tears took hold of your throat.

König held you closer to his chest briefly.

“We need to go back for him,” you hiccuped, “we can’t leave him!”

König didn’t bat an eyelash, nevermind turn his cheek.

“Please! He needs us!” you pleaded.

König finally glanced down at you. Your cries throttled your throat.

He looked so, so, terribly sad for you.

Your lip trembled when you locked eyes. He said so much with so little.

He knew, he knew.

You didn’t care what anyone thought as you sobbed into your slave’s chest. They could picture you as some privileged princess all they wanted. To Hell with their judgement. Let them be damned to their own machinations. You’d cry as you pleased.

Silently, König hoisted you up into one arm and raised his mask slightly. He used one hand to loosen his scarf and patted on the crook of his neck.

You stopped your sniffling immediately.

“König no,” you mumbled, “I can’t.”

He shook his head and tapped again.

“I don’t need it,” you insisted stubbornly.

König rolled his eyes and tapped, evidently fed up with your complaints.

You gave in.

You let your cheek rub into the crook of his neck and breathed in. You felt König wrap his other arm around you to hold you in place as he scented you. You could feel the oils delicately coat your nose. It wasn’t as sickly slick as you thought it would be. You always assumed that they’d be oily and gross, but König’s oils seemed to readily absorb into your skin.

Something inside you was repulsed by what König was doing. This sort of scenting was reserved only for intimate friends and family, people you trusted dearly. The very act of scenting was seen by some as intimate in nature all on its own. Then again, some people were disgusted by kissing. Here, König was only scenting you to comfort you. He wasn’t trying to take advantage of you, he wasn’t trying to claim you as his own. He was just comforting you, like one friend to another. He was caring for you in the way only a loved one could.

“Thank you,” you whispered into his neck.

König squeezed you briefly in response.

You cuddled in closer than before. You let the scent of pine and cedar soak into your very essence. You could feel your body reacting on instinct, calming down as soon as you felt his oils coat your cheek. You blushed at the thought of what others around you were thinking as König walked by.

You closed your eyes to blot out the rest of the world. All you wanted was to lose yourself in the scent. König could take care of you, just this once. A pang of guilt stung you as you thought about what König must be feeling. You were just using a slave to feel better, weren’t you? You were using him.

You realised that König must only be doing this out of obligation. He didn’t care about you, he was just taking care of his omega charge. He was your bodyguard, your caretaker. The impact of your emotions dawned on you.

Alphas and betas alike would’ve been drawn to you like moths to a flame. Seeing an omega in such distress must’ve been alarming for them. Of course they’d want to care for you. If König was to protect you, he needed to ward off any other potential threats. What better way than to take care of the root of the problem itself? If you were calm, then you’d be left alone. It was distress that made others dote on omegas.

Omegas were known for being the most emotional of the second sexes. They were considered soft, weak, and meagre. They were little pets to dote on and protect from the harsh realities of the world. Not that omegas couldn’t be tough, but it was a commonly known fact that omegas were prone to emotional breakdowns rather than actively dangerous outbursts like their alpha comrades. Betas, of course, were known for having mixed reaction to distress. Some tended to follow their omega friends in having crying fits or withdrawing into themselves. An unfortunate few had the tendency to lash out violently like an alpha.

Society may laud alphas for their size and strength, but they were feared for their outbursts. Betas were much more valuable to the world. They had that strange tendency to behave more like an alpha or beta based on primary sex, but they were still more reliable than either alphas or omegas. An omega was just considered weak, but they were still useful to the world. Alphas, on the other hand, were sometimes more feared than respected for their volatility. The more dominant the tertiary sex, then the more aggressive the alpha. Alpha As like König were considered terrifying brutes that were prone to violence and rage. You’d yet to see it with König, but you were still cautious.

The one thing that upset alphas more than anything else was to see a distressed omega. Not that they were upset at the omega, but some would fall into those sexist views. Many knew that it was simply an innate urge to want to care for their omega kin. It was not an aggressive instinct, but rather one of their more protective urges coming to the front.

For König, having you sobbing in his arms would’ve been a beacon to any free alpha or beta to try and take you away from König and try to care for you. In all honesty, some might’ve seen an alpha carrying a sobbing an omega and made the worst possible assumptions. It was a miracle you hadn’t been accosted on the street.

So thus, it was safer for both you and König to be scented. It was safe, it was reasonable, it was respectable.

Still, the guilt curled inside you for taking advantage of an instinctual side of König.

You took in one more lungful of his scent and shifted back to relax in König’s arms. You looked around and hummed. You weren’t as far from home as you thought. In fact, it wasn't far away at all. You were actually not more than a fifteen minute walk away.

You nudged König lightly, “Can you let me down now?”

König glanced down at you curiously.

“I think I’m okay now,” you said, “thank you for that.”

König shrugged, but he relented and slowed to a stop. Ever so carefully, he let you out of his arms and onto the ground. A part of you figured he’d drop you into a snow back, but the gentleness was a nice surprise.

“Thanks,” you smiled as he straightened his back.

You looked around the street. If it weren’t for your mind’s eye, you’d have thought that the city was in perfect peace. The market vendors called out for customers, a man played a song from hundreds of years ago on some ancient guitar by the fountain. Apparently, the band was popular way back in the 1900s. They were from somewhere in Britannia, if you remembered correctly.

The tune brought a smile to your face. Your mother would sing songs from this band when she was working around the house. Sometimes she’d even get you to join in and you’d dance in the laundry room in the light of the afternoon. You were happy then. She was too. Your smile flickered into a frown. Your mother changed as time had gone on. Your father had broken her down into a shell of a woman.

She had been vibrant and beautiful, but now she was just an empty memory of a time long gone.

“We should get home soon,” you told König.

He nodded and followed you down the street.

The old tune faded into a hum as you passed by city workers draining the sewer system, cursing foul slurs as they worked. You wrinkled your nose at the stench and shook it off.

The city was alive with life and death and all that crawled in between. Up above in the higher brackets, business elites and glowing lights drowned out any thought of a shadow. Some called the upper network New Babel for how it constantly ascended upwards. One day, you thought that maybe they would break into space. As it was, you could see the light above shining brightly.

Down in the middle lanes, people could feel the sun but they weren’t blessed by it. Vitamin D supplements were made mandatory to support the population. In addition, sun lamps were installed on every corner of every street. Some lights were strips that ran along highways that connected to islands of towers, some were bright orbs on iron posts that children played around with giggles and sidewalk chalk.

Though not officially stated, it was a well known fact that the advertisement boards were modified sun lamps. Thankfully, someone up above had had mercy on the people and had banned advertisers from buying up all the sunlamps to turn into beacons of merchandising. As it was, the little dots of pure white light instilled hope in your heart.

The trees grew freely in parks and decorative islands placed around the city. Some of them were fruit trees planted long ago, gifts from the past to the present. In these artificial habitats, birds chirped brightly and flew through the air like bats in the moonlight.

“It’ll be dark soon,” you muttered as you looked around.

König nodded, following your example by taking in the sights of the city.

“This place is pretty different at night,” you said, “we should probably hurry.”

König tilted his head, curious about what you meant.

“When the sun lamps switch to moonlight, a lot of things happen,” you explained and pointed at the scrolling advertising boards above, “for one, the boards switch. In day time, they boards are bright and flashy. At night, the ‘calm’ ads are displayed. The city has a rule about who can advertise when.” You pointed a few seedy looking dive bars to your left, “The bars also open up. Not all of them open at the same time, but most open when the lamps switch. When they open, a lot of weird people come out. That’s usually a good time to leave.”

König scowled.

You shrugged in response, “It’s just how it is. It could be worse, honestly. I’d rather it’s only at night.”

You kept walking through the streets, mindful of how the sunlamps slowly bled from blue to purple then pink, and finally red.

“Just down the street,” you said as you hurried your step.

Within a minute, you were ducking into the cafe and locking the door behind you. You watched as the sun lamp finally switched to a speckled blue-grey light.

Moon light.

“Just in time,” you whistled in relief and turned around to look at König, “it’s good to be home.”

König brushed his finger along the bar on the door and nodded absent-mindedly.

You felt the weight of the day begin to crash in. The structure of your body caved in, the windows of your soul fogged with exhaustion. You could barely find it in you to be able to stand up.

König glanced at you, curious as to what you might want to do next.

“You’re probably starving,” you rubbed the palms of your hands over your eyes.

König waggled his head.

“We’ve got some leftovers in the fridge. Are you fine with that?” you asked.

König nodded eagerly.

You grinned, “Alright, then let’s get you something to eat.”

Not much later, you were sitting on your bed beside König with a plate of reheated spaghetti in your lap. You idly twirled the noodles while König scoffed them down beside you.

You sighed an hung your head.

Where was Kyle? He hadn’t messaged you at all. You checked your phone again, but there wasn’t a single message on any app. Groopy, SlyFox, Chatter, all silent. You felt something nagging at the back of your mind.

“I… I just want to check the news,” you muttered as you opened another app, “I just want to make sure.”

You saw a series of headlines streaming in. Most of them, unfortunately, were about the riots.

“Sixty dead?” you sucked air through your teeth, “wait, how are there sixty already?”

You scrolled through, but it just kept getting worse. Sixty dead, another eighty arrested, two hundred and thirty arrested in total. You prayed that Johnny and Kyle weren’t among these numbers.

“I just want him to be okay,” you said quietly.

You felt a warm pressure perch on your shoulder. You looked up too see König watching you with a remorseful look on his face. He knew perfectly well how much it hurt. You just wished he would say something to you.

“He’ll tell me he’s fine, won’t he?” you felt yourself tearing up, “you promise?”

König gently rubbed your shoulder and looked down at the carpet. You watched him shift his foot slightly, then he turned back to you with a raised hand. You saw he had is little finger raised.

“Pinkie promise?” you couldn’t help but giggle.

König nodded stoically.

You wrapped your finger around his and shook.

“Pinkie promise,” you whispered.

You both sat in silence for a minute. What else was there to say? You knew König was just trying to take care of you, but you couldn’t help but wonder why he went to such efforts. Was he that dedicated to his job? His job didn’t exactly cover pinkie promises by lamp light. And yet, he did it without a word. He was always there for you. König was at your beck and call at all times. You felt a strange turn in your stomach at the thought. It didn’t seem right to have someone waiting on you like this. It felt sick. König had better things to do than be your personal caretaker. If he weren’t your slave, you could imagine him being the overseer of a construction site, maybe even a hea manager in an office. He wasn’t your average alpha A. He was gentle, he was kind. He was the kind of person who could turn his hand to a bale of hay and make golden string. König was so much better than this, and yet he was tied to your side with a piece of paper and an ancient promise.

You sighed and gathered your pyjamas. You needed to get out of the room. Being around König was messing with your head. Slaves were meant to take care of their masters. It was their entire purpose. They were born and bred for this work. So why was having König around making you question these things? What about him made things different?

You crept down the hall to the bathroom.

In the mirror, you saw the spots and marks on your face; they were the ever-present reminders of your flawed nature. Born to a beta and an alpha, you were never meant to exist. Your birth was a complete anomaly. How your father had found it in him too keep you was beyond your comprehension. It’s not like you would be of any value to him. You were just an omega daughter.

You washed cold water over your face quietly. When you looked up in the mirror, you looked pathetic. Your hair was plastered to your forehead as the water ran like tears down the rivets of your face. You saw a pimple on the tip of your nose and dug your fingers into the skin. You hissed and pressed down, down, down until a tiny bubble of blood leaked down over your fingers. You dug in, relished in the sting of mutilation. You picked at another spot, then another. By the time you were finished, your face was splotchy and uneven from your picking. Seven dots of red leaked down. Two on your nose, three on one check, one on your other and one on your chin. Seven red bleeding stars.

Konig Dump

Konig Alternative Universes

A/B/O Sci-Fi Slavery