IC TEXT
I’m your biggest fan I’ll follow you until you love me

he was, for the first time in his life, unsure. unsure about what laid ahead. he had woken up, somewhere, in a grave, bones smouldering and a bitter, acidic taste on his tongue. the male beast stood up slowly, shaking aches and pains from joints and muscles. long overuse, they would provide him with no help anymore.
what had happened? he was not sure, unaware of his surroundings. unaware of the utter devastation that had happened whilst he had been in slumber. the house was on fire. the church was on fire, bells ringing alarmingly as the sky turned dark.

Papa, paparazzi.

right. the sky turning dark. it was like he was stuck, trapped, inside of a fever dream. he could still picture the day so much clearly. the sky was dark, thick, full of smoke and ashes and flames and no scents could be detected. but the chaos was all he needed to realise what was truly going on.
the rebellion, it had started.

Gong

the bells of the burning church tower still sang their victory tolls, as a much quieter one screamed of danger.

Gong

it was a mess. too much of a mess. just perfectly enough of a mess that the hellhound found something inside of him, bursting into pieces. like a supernova, or a star exploding. the sun dying. tears streamed down the length of his snout, acid splattering against the dusty cracked ground and sizzling as they hit the concrete.

Hahahaha

the empire was falling. it was something they had been craving for aeons. aeons. for aeons, their country had been under rule with an iron fist, and the hounds of hell hadn’t been allowed to play. and now, everything was dangerous. in danger, in beauty. with danger comes the beauty too, however, which was the magical part of it. twin supernovas exploded in burning optics, flaring hotter than the sun, hotter than the stars, hotter than the whip that carved grooves into his skin. it was majestic, how carefully thought-out this plan had been. a simple tick and an unnoticeable click and all of a sudden everything was burning.

Papa, paparazzi.

the sounds of the screams and cries and shouts of the royalty was like music to his ears. trapped for aeons with no freedom to move, breathe, live — everything had been a command — he had been, no, they had all been the palaces’ lapdogs, forced to obey every order.

I’m your biggest fan I’ll follow you until you love me

he remembered killing for them - he remembered partaking in a war so great that bore him many a scar. he remembered taking life after life and watching glimmers of hope fade from blinded eyes.

OC TEXT