#City Hunter has THE best design

[yautjalover]

Look at his cute little chin! 🥹

✨ So mindful. ✨

✨ So demure. ✨

[zara-renata]

Control | ao3 | the Sylus series

Summary:

You are feeling a bit depressed after completing a mission that didn't go 100% the way you wanted. Mephisto, and then Sylus, pay you a visit to cheer you up.

Notes:

Sylus x gn reader, Sylus x mc, second person POV, a little Sylus POV This is not actually strictly part of the Sylus series, but rather a bit of an interlude outside of the series I'm writing because it doesn't advance the plot and I don't know where I'd fit it in. I was having an awful day earlier this week and wrote this purely to make myself feel better. I hope it does the same for others. It doesn't contain all the same triggers as the series (but I'd still advise checking the CWs) and can be read as a standalone if you'd like. This story contains: sfw, pure self-indulgent hurt/comfort for overachievers who, despite doing their very best, still feel like they didn't do enough, fluff, banter, tender Sylus, clingy Sylus, still-bit-of-a-jerk-Sylus, CWs: grief, discussion of the realities of law enforcement and innocent civilian death as a result of criminal activity, violence typical of the game and Sylus's criminal tendencies, mention of slight depression and feelings of emptiness.

Here you are, again. It has been a long day, a long week, a long month. You’ve been called out almost every shift to counter an increased spurt of wanderer attacks, while also trying to execute a carefully orchestrated undercover mission to stem the tide of illegal modified protocore weapons that recently flooded the black market by arms smugglers.

No, not Sylus. He’s too clever to put himself on the Association’s radar for his arms dealing in a way that could result in a trap being set for him.

No, the idiots you were going after couldn’t hold a candle to Sylus.

But their activity resulted in civilians being caught in the crossfire, and you had spent the last month seeing firsthand the carnage left behind after a gang battle erupted on the outskirts of Linkon City. You forced yourself to look at the broken bodies and broken families of the people affected, boots crunching on shattered glass, trailing bloody footprints on the cracked tarmac of the street. You would not allow your… situationship with Sylus to blind you to the reality of what his line of work could do to people. People just trying to live their lives, make their rent, raise their children–to survive a life that’s already painful and short enough already, without people like the assholes you just finished bringing down tonight arming other assholes with weapons that no one should be able to access. Weapons designed with one purpose in mind: maximum damage, minimum finesse. Weapons designed as if collateral damage is a feature and not a bug.

You’re tired. Days like this have always happened to you, even before you became a Hunter. The lethargy seeping through your body, the disinterest in doing anything that normally makes you happy. You lie on your bed, staring blankly through your gauzy curtains, the autumn wind driving the intermittent raindrops against the glass of your window. Each one a crystalline jewel, splattering, liquid diamonds trailing down the pane like tears. 

You have the evening stretching before you, and you want to enjoy it, you do. But you can’t seem to make yourself get up, as your mind drifts to the images you made yourself engrave in your brain. The least those people deserved was you to bear witness, and ensure that you never forget, since your work as a Hunter came too late to help them, in the end. 

You turn your gaze away from the gloomy late afternoon, let it wander over the riot of plants hanging from your ceiling and along the shelving in your room. Life continues. Proof of it is right here in your bedroom, the plants turning carbon dioxide into oxygen for you to breathe with your healthy lungs. You’re fine. You’ll be fine.

Before, you might have dropped in on your grandmother, making her a meal and sharing it in quiet companionship. If Caleb weren’t on a flight mission, you might have asked him to go on a run or to the gym with you, worked off some of this jittery aggression on the mats or by pushing your lungs past their capacity in an effort to leave him laughing in your dust.

But they’re gone now, of course. Victims of the same type of assholes you took down today.

You should be reveling in the success of your mission, but all you can see is the still form of one victim in particular, a snapshot in your memory of their slender wrist, their half-opened hand, lying in the street amongst the glittering shards of glass and scorch marks on the asphalt.

This empty feeling will pass. You know that. You have enough life experience to understand that feelings like this, moods like this, ebb and flow like Rafayel’s tide. So what if it’s harder now, to pull yourself out of them when you find yourself drifting in this sorrowful sea, because your support network has been washed away? That doesn’t mean you’ll feel like this forever. Only that it might take a little longer to drag your tired body off the bed, to refill your empty tank and survive and maybe enjoy another day.

Suddenly, you hear a tapping. You turn your head back to the window. Mephisto is perched on the other side of the glass, gently pecking the pane. He tilts his head and regards you with one glittering red eye.

You haven’t seen Sylus for several weeks now, both of you busy with your respective occupations, and you, doubly busy with the undercover mission. He has sent photos, here and there–blurry pictures of a black cat, a flock of birds in flight against an evening sky, the setting sun’s rays the color of fire and blood. He has asked how you’re doing, and you’ve lied and said you’re fine. He sent you a photo of a glass of wine on a low table near a roaring fire. “You should be here,” he’d captioned it.

Despite all of your complicated feelings about who he is, who he was to you when you first met him, what he does to afford his huge open hearth fireplace and all the finest things in life, you wished you were there with him too.

But you weren’t, and you haven’t been for awhile now. Over the past few weeks, you’ve seen Mephisto in the trees, heard his grating call over the sounds of traffic. But he hasn’t approached you, until today. Normally you would play your typical cat and mouse game with him, or rather, crow and worm, and you’d grab your paintball gun and see how good your aim is as he flaps outside your window, or you’d lure him in with a treat and lock him in the bathroom and wait and see how long it takes Sylus to send Luke and Kieran to set him free. You like to think of it as enrichment activities for both the crow and his owner–you’re not going to make it easy for Sylus to stalk you. He might get bored, after all.

But you just don’t have it in you, today. You slip off the bed and pad to the window, throwing it open. Rain mists your face, drawing goosebumps up your bare arms. Mephisto watches you, and caws softly. You’d call it a coo, if it wasn’t such a horrible sound. Much like his owner’s attempt at a lullaby. You back away, slip back onto the bed. If he’d like to come in, he’s welcome.

You return to staring at your bedroom walls. After a while, you hear the flapping of wings, and suddenly Mephisto lands next to you on the duvet. He shakes his mechanical feathers, and water droplets are flung onto the fabric and the mountain of pillows.

“Thanks, buddy,” you murmur, watching as he uses his beak to groom himself. It’s uncanny, sometimes, how alive-acting he is. Like a real bird. You’ve always wanted a pet. You know that Sylus insists that Mephisto is not a pet, but you really can’t see the difference. Mephisto clearly likes his owner, and does his job dutifully, and sometimes you think, with great pleasure. He drops little destroyed bits of surveillance hardware at Sylus’s feet on occasion, like a real crow bringing something shiny to a human who was previously kind to him. 

Curiously, but without much expectation, you extend your hand to the bird. He hops backward, away from you, but remains on the bed. “May I pet you?” you ask.

He cocks his head, makes soft little chirruping noises in his mechanical throat. You let your hand fall to the duvet, palm up, and close your eyes. It’s nice to have company, in any case.

After a while, you feel him hopping again, and then something cold and smooth hesitantly nudges your palm. You open your eyes. Mephisto is gently pecking your palm. He nudges it, then bobs his head, observing you with his beautiful ruby eye.

“Is that a yes?” you ask. In response, he sits down, nestling into your duvet. You lift your hand, and he lets you run your fingertips along the top of his head and along the smooth, cool metal feathers along his back. 

Every few minutes, he ruffles his feathers and readjusts his position, slowly inching his way closer to you on the bed. Finally, he is resting against your thigh, within easy reach of your hand, head tucked into one of his wings like he’s ready for a nap.

The open window lets the brisk, rainy autumn evening in, and the light slowly fades. Eventually, you manage to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

And this is how Sylus finds you, towards midnight. He lets himself in through your front door, using the fingerprint scanner he reprogrammed to accept his own as well as yours. He enjoyed seeing the look on your face, when you figured out that’s how he had gotten into your apartment without the key you had offered and he had refused. Your angry facial expression is worth more than all of his dragon’s hoard of wealth, in his trustworthy opinion.

He notes that the temperature in your apartment is surprisingly cool, even through the warm wool of his thick black coat. He had sent Mephisto to check on you, but he hasn’t managed to get an update since the bird was tapping at your window, sending back images to Sylus’s phone of you lying on the bed in your sleep clothes, awake, but not looking at your phone or watching your wall-screen, even though it hadn’t even been dinner time yet. He had told himself not to worry, that you were probably just tired after the past grueling month. But now he is worrying. He slides off his black monk strap shoes, and places them neatly along your entryway wall. Despite the faint worry edging up his spine, he takes the time to neatly line up your own hastily kicked off boots next to his, because he also worries that you’re going to trip and break your neck one of these days on all the shit you just leave scattered around on your floor, too exhausted to immediately tidy them up and put them away.

He makes his way through your dark apartment, picking up discarded clothing and folding them over his arm to put in your laundry basket, and quietly steps into your bedroom. 

No wonder it’s cold in here–your window is wide open. It’s no longer raining, but the chill night air drifts into your bedroom and stirs the leaves of your indoor plants. You’re buried in your duvet, curled around an equally nestled Mephisto, who deigns to lift his head from where he had it tucked under his wings. He caws softly, as if to tell Sylus to be quiet and to not wake Sylus’s sweet little Hunter.

“This is dereliction of duty,” Sylus quietly scolds the bird, lifting the lid of your laundry basket next to your closet and neatly putting the clothes inside. He goes to the window and shuts it, and then draws the gauzy as well as the blackout curtains against the night outside. He returns to the living room, hangs up his coat, and brings a glass of water back to your bedroom.

He leans over the bed and pokes Mephisto. “You’re in my spot.” The bird puffs up his feathers a little in indignation and caws quietly.

“Nope, out. You’ve had your turn.” Sylus prods him again, and finally Mephisto ruffles his wings, hops to his feet, and flaps off to the living room, making disgruntled noises as he goes. Sylus sympathizes, but doesn’t feel guilty at all for dislodging him from your side. It’s Sylus’s turn now.

He slips out of his slacks, pulls his sweater and undershirt over his head, and slides under the blanket next to you. You sigh in your sleep, frowning a little, and Sylus runs his finger between your eyebrows, smoothing the furrow there. If he could, he’d reach into your dreams and crush anything that would cause such an expression on your face in his bare hands. Unfortunately, that’s not one of the perks of the aether core in his eye. He settles for plastering his body against your back and wrapping an arm around you, running his nose along your neck and inhaling the scent of your hair. The distance between Linkon City and the N109 zone is getting harder and harder for him to handle gracefully.

While you’ve been busy taking down the low level morons playing at being arms smugglers, Sylus has also been busy for the past few weeks, negotiating deals, consolidating his power, tightening his grip in his efforts to acquire a monopoly on the illegal protocore arms trade in both the N109 zone and Linkon City. He’s making progress, but his work is not yet done. He’s tired, and he has spent every day of the past month missing you. Now that he knows your latest mission is over, he intends to soak in your presence for as long as you’re available, before he has to head back out into the cold gloom without you again.

Sylus closes his eyes. Just for a moment. He’ll check in on some online auctions in a few minutes, review the stock market moves of the day and reconsider investments, but for just this moment, he’ll hold you in his arms, and warm your cold hands in his warm palms.

And that’s how you find yourself waking up in the early hours of the morning, a big warm body pressed against yours. You blink, note the time of two in the morning. You reach out and feel around, setting your bedside lamp to its dimmest setting so that you can see in the pitch-black room. You turn your head, and find Sylus’s sleeping face on the pillow next to yours, looking more peaceful than he ever appears when awake. The furrow between his brows is almost nonexistent, and his mouth is soft, plush lips parted a little. In this moment, you can imagine him as a little boy, angelic in sleep, mischievous while awake. Your heart hurts a little, imagining what kind of life that little boy had to endure to become the sleeping panther next to you tonight.

You turn fully, brush your nose against his, and then cuddle into him, head tucked into his neck. You breathe him in. He smells like warm, sleepy Sylus, a little sweaty under the duvet. You resist the urge to lick him.

“This is the best way to wake up from a nap,” his hoarse, sleep-filled voice vibrates through you.

You laugh softly. “Good, because this is the only package we offer tonight. No refunds.”

“I wouldn’t dream of returning this experience.” You can hear the smile in his voice.

You both lie like that for a while, the sound of the wind outside and your combined quiet breathing the only sounds filtering through the room.

You had fallen asleep feeling empty, but waking up with this elusive man in your bed has you feeling sated. Refueled. Full. You sigh. How is it possible that a man who is responsible for the same things as those assholes you apprehended yesterday can make you feel like this? You remember that person lying in the street, eyes that will never see again, a parent who will never come home again. As if they were just sleeping. But as you stood over them, you knew better–your heart was the gravity well of a black hole, and you felt like you would fold in on yourself from the weight. If only you had been a little quicker, a little cleverer. If only you could disintegrate another human being like Sylus can, with just a gesture. You could have disappeared the assholes who were responsible for this person’s death, an entire life, someone’s baby at some point, brought into the world with love and effort and surviving each and every day, right up until the day you found yourself standing over them, as they lay broken in the street. And they died, for what? For some senseless, stupid feud over money? Turf? A feud they had absolutely nothing to do with. Fuck . You’re feeling sick again.

You burrow deeper into Sylus’s warmth.

“Speak,” Sylus says.

You pull back slightly and look up into his sleep-bleary face.

“Speak?”

“Are we a parrot tonight?” He smiles, eyes heavy-lidded.

“A parrot?”

“And a comedian, ladies and gentlemen,” he leans forward, nuzzles your nose with his.

“Don’t get too close, I probably have morning breath,” you murmur.

“Ah, so you can formulate your own thoughts.” He nuzzles the side of your mouth. “Do I look like a give a fuck if you have morning breath? I probably do too.”

“Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Then you yawn, widely. 

He runs his hand down your side and pinches your hip. You yelp.

“Don’t change the subject,” he commands. “Tell me what’s on your mind. I can hear it racing from here–I’m pretty sure it’s what woke me up from my pleasant nap.”

“Oh, did I disturb his royal highness’s beauty sleep?”

“Yes, so you owe me. The compensation is telling me what had you staring into the void yesterday, and what made you sound so sad just now while enjoying being wrapped in my extraordinary arms. Many people would pay a lot to be in the position you’re in right now,” he says smugly.

“Yes, in order to slit your throat.”

He huffs. You note that he’s wrong; you’re probably the only one with morning breath. He somehow manages to just smell good. Toothpaste and mouth. You want to lick his teeth. “You’re probably not wrong.” He pauses. “Please talk to me. I’ve gotten used to hearing your worries. You can shut everyone else out, but I don’t like it when you shut me out too.”

You roll away from him, but his arm around you prevents you from going far. You glance at your windows, but the blackout curtains block even the city lights. 

“I’ve just. I’ve been thinking about a lot of things over the past few weeks.”

“Uh oh. Nothing ever good comes from that,” he teases. You swat him in the chest. His body shakes with quiet laughter.

“Do you want to know or not?” you gripe.

“It’s not my fault that you didn’t make it clear that you won’t be accepting editorial commentary at this time. But I’ve learned my lesson. Continue.”

You throw your arm over your eyes and laugh. You can’t help it. Even when you’re feeling at your worst, this man manages to make you laugh. But you feel guilty for laughing, because the person you can’t get out of your head, this stranger who you were unable to save, will never laugh again. You hate it.

You sigh. “I’ve always struggled with the fact that my evol seems to have only a support function. Like, I often need a partner in order to be optimally effective in battle against wanderers, because otherwise it’s just me and whatever my physical talents are. Which, though amazing,” you sniff, “are often just, not enough when dealing with the kind of creatures that I often have to deal with.” You fall silent, imagining if you could set shit on fire like Rafayel without resorting to a flamethrower, or freezing a swathe of enemies all at once like Zayne. The battles you would wage would be epic.

“And I’m obviously competent at eliminating wanderers–I can usually arrive before the damage occurs. I can actually help people. And wanderers, they’re not like human perpetrators. They have no ill intent. They’re like animals, driven by instinct. Even when I do arrive too late, it feels more like a natural disaster than a malicious injustice. Of course, it’s still awful when someone dies for something so senseless, but that’s been the case for all of humanity’s history in the face of stronger predators.” Your mind races. You’re trying so hard to articulate what has been weighing on you. “But that’s only one part of my job. The other side of it, the side that involves going after humans with ill-intent, that’s a lot more complicated. So often, I arrive after the damage has already been done. I feel like the cleanup crew, completely useless to the normal people who just are trying to get through the day who get caught up in other peoples’ cruelty. It’s not like evil assholes announce their arrival with a metaflux fluctuation like wanderers do. I’m just.. too late, too often.” You try to imagine everything you’d do if you had Sylus’s power. You’d probably turn into a supervillain too, to be honest.

You fall quiet again. Sylus props his head on his hand and runs a finger along your clavicle with his free hand. You enjoy the feel of his calloused fingertip along your skin.

“And what else? I’m sensing there’s more to this story.”

You don’t want to hurt him. But you also don’t want to lie to him. “I just can’t reconcile the fact that I spent the last month tracking down the arms smugglers that I managed to catch yesterday, and I’d have gladly killed them if given half a chance. If I could snap my fingers like you, and just fucking annihilate them. But here I am, lying here in bed, with you.” You can’t bring yourself to look him in the face as you say this.

You feel Sylus’s fingers begin to trail up your forearm and gently encircle your wrist, pulling your arm away from your eyes. You turn and look into his face. 

“I’m certainly glad you’re not in bed with them now, sweetheart,” he says drily. “I don’t think there would be room for all of us, what with your army of plushies and my impressive physique.”

You groan.

“So let me get this straight. You’re upset because you feel like your skills aren’t sufficient to protect every single person who is in need of help. You’re upset that you can’t kill with a thought. And you’re upset because you would have killed these guys, who are in the same business as me, but you refuse to do the same to me?”

It sounds so simple, succinctly listed like that, for how heavy your heart feels. For the emptiness you felt, instead of triumph, after successfully protecting a lot of people over the last month, and getting a few more petty dealers off the street so they can't contribute to hurting anyone else in the future.

The bit about Sylus being the same as those criminals, without meeting their fate, on the other hand. That doesn’t sound simple at all.

You nod. “Instead of feeling like I did well, and taking the free time I have after I’ve completed a job to enjoy myself, or do something that makes me happy, all I can do is think about all the ways I failed, or how could have done it better, or how I’m still not doing everything I should be doing to help people. That’s why I was …staring at the void, as you put it. I couldn’t imagine one thing that I wanted to do with the free evening I had.”

Sylus pokes you in the forehead. “I knew you were arrogant, and greedy. I just never realized how much until this moment,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

You jerk back from his touch. “I pour my heart out to you, and you call me arrogant and greedy?” He lifts his eyebrows at your outburst. “The fuck, Sylus?”

“Quiet, or you’ll wake Mephisto.” He drapes an arm back over you and pulls you back into his warmth.

“Oh nooo, wouldn’t want to wake your mechanical murder bird,” you bite out, but quietly. You feel like you have a new understanding with Mephisto now that he let you pet him and you shared a nap with him. It’s not his fault that his owner is an insensitive asshole.

“No, we wouldn’t,” he agrees placidly. “Would you care to know why I am rightfully pointing out that your attitude about what you 'should' be capable of is arrogant and greedy? Or do you just want to stay upset about it for a little longer? I can wait.”

You scowl at him. “Oh, I’m happy to wait if you keep looking at me like that,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

You put your palm on his face and push him away. He rolls away with a soft laugh.

“Just tell me,” you grumble. “And then go home. I’m suddenly not feeling like company anymore.”

“Hmm,” he props himself back up on his hand. “You have an incredibly powerful aether core in your heart, one that is coveted by countless people.” He rests his other hand over your heart as he speaks. “You've recently increased its power by absorbing the power of another aether core. You can heal other evolvers, resonate with them to exponentially increase their power, and probably do a lot more than you’re aware of yet. You’ve probably not even scratched the surface of what it can do for you.” 

You look away, but enjoy the press of his palm against you.

“You have extraordinary physical capabilities–I’m not just patronizing you when I said that I’d rather have you at my back than anyone else I know, even without your evol.” He reaches for your cheek, and gently tilts your head to look at him again. His wine-dark gaze drifts over your face. “And you’re not the only Hunter in the Association. If only one person were capable of doing your job, there would be no Association at all. You can’t expect to be one-hundred percent successful, one-hundred percent of the time. Not even I am greedy enough to feel like I should be able to have that kind of success rate. And I’m also not arrogant enough to expect that of myself. I can’t run Onychinus alone. I rely on many subordinates and competent people to take care of the business when my attention is elsewhere.” He looks at you pointedly, as if you’re the elsewhere slurping up all of his attention.

You blow a raspberry at him.

More quickly than you thought he could move, he snatches your tongue between his thumb and forefinger and gently wags it. His skin is salty. “Da thuck, Thylus?”

“Keep it in your mouth if you don’t want me to take it,” he wags it once more, as if to emphasize his point, and then lets go. “Next time I won’t give it back.”

You suppress the urge to just slobber all over his face in retaliation.

“So yes. I find the expectations you have for yourself to be arrogant and greedy, and entirely excessive. Do you think that your colleagues are failures, or haven't done enough, when they return from missions that went tits up, or when they failed to protect one hundred percent of those threatened?"

You scowl. Of course not. You know that they work their asses off to the best job they can. You'd never think less of them for having a bad day, or a bad mission. For people dying on their watch. But they're not you.

"Kitten, you’re doing your best, with everything you have in you. The world is cruel, and so are the people in it. You can’t control that. But you can control what you do about that cruelty. You're already fighting as hard as you can--too hard, if you want my valuable opinion."

"Trying as hard as I can with as much hardware and bodywork I can exploit. But it's just no the same as having your evol," you grumble. You might be slightly jealous of Sylus's power. Just slightly. 

Sylus huffs, sounding a little impatient. "If it's not enough for you to be a walking grenade launcher, and you're frustrated that you can’t disintegrate those you want to eliminate with a snap of your fingers, just bring me with you. You can control me, and I’ll do all the heavy lifting.”

You just stare at him, mouth hanging open a little. He lifts his hand and chucks you under your chin with his thumb to close it. “Why so shocked?”

“Aside from the fact that you just offered to murder for me?” you ask, shaking your head a little.

“I already have murdered for you. I’d do a lot more than that, for you.” He pulls you into his side again and rests his head on your shoulder. “So don’t be too greedy. You're already very talented at what you do. You have control over the most powerful person in the N109 zone. The people you work to protect every single day are lucky that you are on the Association’s side, and not anyone else’s. You can’t save the entire world from injustice. But you can continue doing your best, with your already impressive skills, to protect as many people as you can. And if anyone tries to tell you that what you’re doing isn’t enough, you can send them to me. Including yourself. I will take care of them for you.”

You turn your head and rest your cheek in his silky hair. You breathe deeply and feel your heart settle in your chest. You notice that he hasn’t addressed the fact that he’s involved in the same business as the people you took down yesterday. But you don’t care. You know, somehow, in the calm beating of your heart, that he isn’t anything like them. He isn’t anything like them at all.

Your thoughts drift to a slender wrist, to an open palm. You will never forget this person. Hopefully you can honor them, in some small way, by continuing to force yourself to look, and not surrendering to the horror of it. You will keep going. Maybe next time, you'll arrive in time. You hope it is enough. And you'll also try to hear what Sylus is telling you. All you can give is your everything. No one can ask more of you than that, even if it's you who is asking.

As you continue rubbing your cheek in his hair like a cat, he speaks again. "And as for you not arresting me... or taking advantage of your position and slitting my throat." You freeze. You thought maybe you could just pretend you hadn't expressed this worry tonight. "Have you ever considered the possibility that, in order to treat an infection, it's not sufficient to just address the symptoms?"

For a second you feel like you can hear Zayne coming out of Sylus's mouth, and you're totally weirded out. "What do you mean?" you reluctantly ask.

"Sometimes, the only way to destroy a rotten core is to work from the inside out. It's not enough to desperately amputate the affected limbs. And that kind of work requires getting your hands dirty."

You feel like he just told you something very important. But you can also sense that he won't explain anything else tonight. This is the closest the two of you have ever gotten to actually discussing the substance of his work, and you're satisfied with that. The certainty you felt before, about him being utterly different than the others, settles deeper into your bones. You relax into him again.

“And your last worry. About not knowing what to do with yourself when you’ve completed something extraordinary, and find yourself with some free time on your hands… just call me. We can figure out what to do together.”

You can’t bring yourself to say anything. If you do, you might start crying and not be able to stop. He is everything you needed tonight. You just press closer into him, hoping he can hear everything you can’t say out loud yet.

“So, still not feeling like company anymore?” Sylus asks, after you’ve sat in peaceful silence for a few moments. “Or am I allowed to stay?”

“Would you go even if I asked you to?” You reach up and run your fingers through his soft hair, and he makes a pleased noise deep in his throat.

“If I thought that was what you really wanted, sweetheart.”

And you believe him.

[sleepyc63]

survivor!!! i love herr :))

i didn't change anything about her from my last design, aside from the glasses :^) i fleshed out her story a loot though. what she deserves i love survivor

story under cut :D

Survivor is one of the triplets born to Gatherer and Caretaker. Her brothers are Monk and Wanderer. Her childhood best friends were her siblings and one of her neighbors, Watcher. She has undiagnosed autism, and loves to learn about history and architecture.

She had an average childhood leading up to an incident following a flash flood in her neighborhood. In the hurry to evacuate, Survivor lost her family and went missing for the weeks following. She was found by a college student of a neighboring city, Five Pebbles, and her family has been friends with him since. Pebbles sparked Survivor's interest in history, and he's remained an older brother figure to her into her young adulthood.

In her teens, she made money by babysitting kids in her neighborhood. She realized, while unsure of having pups of her own, she loved being around kids. When her parents were considering adopting pups in her late teens, she encouraged them. They ended up adopting two pups: Star (12) and Sprout (9). She loves them, and visits them at home often.

Survivor recently started college in the city, majoring in social work, as she plans to work in the foster care system. When moving into the city, she found out through her cousin, Gourmand, that her old friend, Hunter, was living near her college and willing to rent out her apartment. They met up, initially to work out living arrangements, but ended up getting along and eventually started dating. They moved in together, along with Monk, who was attending the same college.

While she doesn't focus on her social life, she has a lot of close friends, including her brothers, Pebbles, and Gourmand. She's also friends with Spearmaster, Saint, and Rivulet. She used to be best friends with Watcher, but lost contact after his life fell apart, and has begun to dislike him after becoming close with Hunter.

Survivor is happy with where her life is headed, and is excited to begin her career sometime in the near future :)

---

I am so tired i’m sorry I almost fell asleep while writing this. sorry for any mistakes :P

@churrorat-art

[harmonyrae]

Devil in the Mirror

I could not sleep until I wrote this... Don't usually write for Raf, but his Abysswalker fit & vibe absolutely ruins me. So... enjoy!

Synopsis: Abysswalker inspired Assassin Rafayel works non-stop. A contract unaliver and artist, who knew he'd be so damn busy. A big job is around the corner, but tonight, he's relaxing. He didn't intend on meeting the most gorgeous girl and getting swept away in the heat of the moment. But there's an unforeseen complication...

Warnings: Mentions of violence, death & explicit sexual descriptions. 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 4.9k

Playlist: RUNRUNRUN - Dutch Melrose Heaven and Back - Chase Atlantic I wanna be your slave - Maneskin The Death of Peace of Mind - Bad Omens Swim - Chase Atlantic Bed Chem - Sabrina Carpenter

The water finally turns pink as the blood rinses off your skin. You grab the small brush from your kit on the counter and start brushing it over your fingertips. The blood underneath splatters against the porcelain. You finally reach for the soap to do a final wash before taking a paper towel from your kit and drying your hands. 

You carefully undo the clasps of your mask and wipe it off haphazardly before tossing it in the duffel bag by your feet. You inspect your face, a few specks of blood frame your eyes. As you run a hand through your hair you feel a clot catch on your fingers. 

“Damn… he actually got me?” 

You grab a large plastic tarp, placing it on the shower floor before turning on the water. Unbuckling your leather vest you glance into your kit to see a small suture pack. You place it on the counter before placing the vest in the large trash bag already holding your gloves and overcoat. The skin around your ribs is already starting to bruise, but at least the gash across your chest has stopped bleeding. 

As you unbutton your pants, you hear a faint buzz from your room. You slip the blood coated pants off and into the bag. Right before you slip off your underwear you hear your ringtone. Specifically, your “work” ringtone. 

Run, baby, run, run for your life I'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

You know exactly who it is and you know he’ll give you an earful if you don’t pick up and give him an update. You stroll into your room, the mini-fridge already rummaged through, bottles scattered on the TV stand. The hotel is paid for by your client, fuck yes you’re going to rack up the bill. After this job you needed a little buzz to settle down. You grab your phone before stepping up to the window looking down over the busy city. Linkon this time of day was always a shit show and you loved watching the chaos. 

Father, please, she’s perfect in your design

You chuckle, you’ve made him wait long enough. You swipe to answer.

“Thomas, mah boy.” 

“Took you long enough Raf. Do you have an update?” His voice strained, like always. One day you’ll ask him why he took this job to begin with. Until then, you’re glad he has stuck around.

“It’s all good. Easy. Bit messier than I intended. Guy was massive! You could have given me a heads up!”

“I DID! You never read the briefings… Did you need a clean up crew? Or a doctor?” 

“Nah, I handled it. And I’ve gotten pretty good at patching myself up. I’ll be back at the house tomorrow.”

“Actually…” 

“You’re kidding… Thomas…” You whine knowing another job is coming your way. Right before your event. 

“The client is offering a huge payout and said they’d consider contracting you permanently if you pull this off.” 

“Puh-lease if I pull this off? Are they joking? They know my work, right?”

“They do. I mean, they called the best in the business, didn’t they?”

“Fair. Deadline?” 

“One week from accepting the job.”

“Target?”

“A hunter, top tier apparently.” 

“A hunter, huh? That’s new. Client solid?”

“Very. Big corporation. They even sent a down payment to try and persuade you. Check your account.”

“No need, I don’t care about the money.”

“Check your account Rafayel.”

You sigh dramatically before pulling the phone away from your ear. Clicking your banking app, it automatically logs you in and displays the balance. Holy shit. You don’t care about money. You have more than enough. Your art career is doing well and your… bonus job… is very lucrative. But this is crazy. 

“A down payment of 10 million?!” You shout into the phone.

“Told you. I can send you the details if you want to consider the job.” 

“Send them tomorrow. I need a break tonight. Go ahead and tell them I’ll take the job.” 

“Oh one more thing, they do have a clause for no completing the job. It’s… intense. Are you sure you don’t want to read the details first?”

“Nah, I always finish the job. Now please, I beg of you, don’t disturb me anymore tonight.”

“Wait! Rafayel, don't forget the art exhibit tomorrow night! Journalists are hounding me for interviews and I promised them you’d be there.” You are a literal assassin and Thomas handles your kill contracts and he still gets more stressed out about your art exhibits. This man is something else. 

“I know, I know. And why did you promise them?! You know I hate doing interviews!”

“Raf, please…” You know for a fact he is pouting. How dare he use your tactics against you.

“Fine. Good night Tommy.” You hear him huff before you hang up. He hates when you call him that. So you always do.

You toss your phone on the bed and grab the small bottle of Kraken Black Spiced Rum before heading to the shower. You open the bottle, flicking the cap off and taking a swig before pulling off your boxers to hop in the shower. Bright red water pools on the tarp as the stream hits the wound on your head.

“Fuck…” 

The pain settles in and you take another long swig in an attempt to numb the throbbing at the back of your head. You set the bottle on the small bench in the shower before grabbing the soap and scrubbing your body diligently. Once you’re satisfied and every tiny speck of blood is gone, you focus on the bloody mess on your head. The water has started to run pink, so most of the clotted blood has rinsed away. 

The gash is not too deep and there’s no glass in the wound. That asshole really wasted a perfectly good bottle of Brandy trying to stop you. Cute. After that, you made sure his end was some of your best work. Satisfying honestly. 

Once your head wound is rinsed out, you turn off the shower and grab the towel, tying it around your waist. You grab the Rum bottle before stepping out. You stare at yourself in the mirror as you take another sip. At least he didn’t slash your face, facial scars are sexy, but you still didn’t want one. At least not yet.

After disinfecting the wound you carefully place a few stitches, closing it. Holding a gauze pad over it to dry, you head back into the hotel room to pull out a pair of dark jeans and a loose fitting button up. Nothing fancy for tonight. You’d be working up a sweat and doing your best to get properly drunk. You don’t get many opportunities to slip into a club unnoticed so tonight you wanted to be very low-key - a foreign concept to you but still the goal.

You slip on a clean pair of boxers and the jeans, shrugging on the cream colored shirt leaving it unbuttoned as you head into the bathroom. You carefully roll up the tarp and place it in the plastic bag. You take your time cleaning up the bathroom counter. Tossing the bloody gauze and empty disinfectant bottle away, pouring an entire bottle of bleach in the sink and shower. 

Running a hand through your dusty purple hair, you take in your appearance. You look good. Not great, being so tired, but good. The pink in your eyes catches the light, helping hide the exhaustion with the bright contrast. You button your shirt, leaving most of your chest exposed. You roll up the sleeves to your elbows and secure your bracelets before slipping on your laceless boots. Your phone slips into your back pocket with your wallet and you’re off.

The walk to the club is about 10 minutes, perfect for people watching and admiring the night sky. The bright lights of the street lights drown out the moonlight. You shove your hands in your pockets and count the cars passing by. You round the final corner before seeing the club across the street. The neon pink and blue lights pulse along to the base you can feel under your feet. The line is long, very long. 

You jog across the street and lock eyes with the bouncer. He nods at you and unclasps the barrier rope to let you pass immediately. The grumbles of waiting patrons reach your ears and you giggle to yourself. After painting a mural for the club owner, you always get the VIP treatment. Immediate entry, free drinks, private booth. Perks of being famous. You hate to love it.

The bar is packed, but you nod at the bartender and she motions for loitering patrons to make room for you. You hop up on a stool as three men leave, thank god, you have some breathing room. You lean forward on your elbows and flash your brightest smile.

“Avery, looking gorgeous as usual!” 

“Ever the flatterer Raf. What can I get for you?” Avery leans on the bar towards you, inching closer and you catch her glancing at your mouth. You make out with a bartender one time and now your lips are her addiction. 

“My usual if you please, cutie.” 

“One Rum and Coke coming up.” Avery winks before swinging her raven hair over her shoulder and turns to start making your drink.

You glance around the club, noting the exits and counting the security guards. A lot more security tonight. Probably has something to do with the increased Wanderer activity. They’re not hunters, but most club goers won’t think that far ahead. Your eyes scan the dance floor, you recognize a few people. A few artists who come to every exhibit you host, a handful of club regulars who you’ve hung out with before and maybe one or two one-night-stands. Okay, cool, will be avoiding that side of the dance floor. 

The lights change with the song, shades of purple wash over the dance floor. A light passes over a dancer in the middle of the floor. Damn. 

She was always dealing with the devil She was always into taking those chances, yeah

A girl swaying to the music, her sparkling dress catching the light as she moves. You’ve seen movies like this and you half expect time to slow around you. Fuck, why does it feel like time is slowing… 

Avery sets your drink down in front of you and says something, but you can’t focus on anything other than her. You pick up your drink and take a sip, not taking your eyes off the girl. She locks fingers with her friend and they dance together. 

She’s high She lives in the sky Tonight, she’s satisfied

She flips her hair over her shoulder, her strapless dress showing off her stunning chest. No matter how many sips of your drink you take, your throat is dry. Setting down your drink, you clear your throat and rest your head on your hand. Not bothering to pretend you aren’t staring.

Rolling back her eyes But then, she starts to cry Everything is turning to black

She glances over to the bar and locks eyes with you. Fuck. You can’t look away. No backing down now Raf. She smiles and doesn’t look away. Shit. You smile back and rub your thumb across your lip - was that sexy? Jesus. You never get this flustered over a woman. Like ever. So what kind of spell did this woman put on you? She glances down at the floor before looking back up at you. Wait, is she looking at someone behind me? Oh god. You turn and look over your shoulder. The patrons behind you are all facing the other way. When you look back at her, she’s giggling, her hips still swaying to the music. Wow. You can’t help yourself, your eyes trail down over her body. Her toned arms and legs on full display, her short dress hugging her curves, her hair smooth as silk, a few strands sticking to her back from the sweat she’s built up from dancing. 

All in one night She just went to heaven and back

And then the best, and most terrifying, thing happens. She starts walking towards you. You immediately face forward and blink at least 100 times, surely. When you look back, she’s still walking towards you, a sexy smirk plastered to her face. You take another sip of your drink silently praying you don’t say something stupid or that your voice cracks. 

She slides onto the stool next to you. She keeps her eyes on you. Avery appears in your peripherals.

“What can I get you hun?” 

“I’ll have whatever he’s having.” For fucks sake, her voice is… beautiful. Sultry, soft, smooth. 

Avery turns and starts to prepare the drink. The woman leans her head on her hand, matching your position. Her smile turns wicked. She 100% can tell you’re nervous right now.

“So what’s your name, pretty boy?”

You shift in your seat, your blood is rushing directly to your cock. Goddamn. You need that blood for your upstairs brain. You chuckle trying to play it cool. 

“Rafayel. Or Raf, whatever you prefer, cutie.”

“Rafayel, nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.” Your name on her lips… Yeah, you’re completely under her spell now.

“Likewise, Y/N.”

Avery sets down a Rum and Coke in front of her. She nods at Avery and picks up the drink bringing it to her lips. She takes a sip and pulls back, closing her eyes tightly. 

“Damn, that is strong. Is yours that strong?” 

You chuckle and slide your glass to her.

“You’re welcome to compare.” 

She doesn’t hesitate. She picks up your glass and takes a drink, her lipstick leaving a print on the glass. Her eyebrows raise as she looks at the glass. 

“Hmm… yours is balanced. Maybe the bartender was feeling generous with mine.” 

You glance over at Avery, her cheeks are definitely flushed. She sees the way you are looking at this woman and she is definitely staring at her. You sigh and return your gaze. 

“Generous is one word for it.”

“Jealous is another, yeah?” 

How? How? How is she in your head? You can’t help but laugh. She is spot on after all. Before you can think of how to respond, she has her hand on your knee. She squeezes gently.

“I don’t mind a little competition.” 

You are not going to survive. You don’t have a will written up. Who is going to get all your money? Thomas probably. He’s going to be so mad at you for missing the exhibit tomorrow. You aren’t even wearing designer brands, you’re going to die looking like this? It could be worse. You could be naked. Well, that wouldn’t be so bad.

“Rafayel?” 

Her voice brings you back to reality. Fuck. Real smooth Raf. Good work.

“Oh… aha… yeah, sorry. Competition, right. You don’t mind? You… So you like challenges?”

She giggles at your struggle to get the words out. She leans forward.

“I love a good challenge.” With that she grabs your hand.

“Woah, where are we going?” 

“To dance, pretty boy.” 

You follow her to the dance floor, she goes straight back to the center. Her grip on your hand tightening as more people start crowding around the DJ booth. The DJ drops another track and the lights start pulsing faster with the tempo. 

I wanna be your slave, I wanna be your master I wanna make your heartbeat run like rollercoasters

She finds an empty spot and turns towards you, she guides your hands to her hips before placing her hands over your shoulders. She pulls you closer as she clasps her hands behind your neck. She starts swaying her hips, letting her head bob to the beat.

I wanna be a good boy, I wanna be a gangster ‘Cause you could be the beauty and I could be the monster

You match her movements, your grip on her hips tighten as you pull her closer. The music fades into the background as you stare into her eyes. She giggles, her smile sending your heart into a panic. You smile back at her, letting the music and movement relax you. The booze finally heats the blood in your veins. Or maybe it’s just how turned on you are that’s making the room almost unbearably hot? 

She suddenly turns around, she presses her ass against you, her hands cover yours on her hips. As she starts grinding, all attempts at trying to keep a cool head come to a screeching halt. She leans back and looks over her shoulder. Her hooded eyes sparkle as she bites her lower lip. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You hold your breath feeling her hips sway and grind against your painfully hard cock. There’s not a doubt in your head, she definitely feels it against her ass. She doesn’t stop and her head falls back against your shoulder. You bring up a hand to run your fingers across her collarbone. You move her hair off her neck and press your lips close to her skin, making sure she can feel your breath. The goosebumps you feel rise across her chest confirm she does. 

Your other hand rises to her stomach, pulling her completely flush against you. She brings her arm up and grabs onto the side of your neck, her fingers playing with your hair. You can feel her breathing getting more and more unsteady. Your lips finally touch her neck and she fully stretches her neck out to give you full access. Gentle kisses turn to bites and licks, marks already appearing faintly all over her neck and shoulder. The room feels empty - it’s just you and her. And then you hear her moan quietly against your ear.

“Raf… fuck…” 

And I’m a killer who’s searching for redemption I’m a motherfucking monster who’s searching for redemption

“Want to get out of here?” You whisper in her ear as the song ends.

“God, yes.”

The door to your hotel room slams against the wall as you stumble inside. You’re not even in the room before she’s kissing you, her lips feeling like heaven. Soft, sweet, a hint of alcohol on her tongue. She bites your lip as she pulls you into your room. You kick the door closed and walk her backwards to the bed. 

Your fingers pull the zipper of her dress down. She’s already unbuttoned your shirt and pushes it over your shoulders. You reach back to pull it off and throw it to the floor. Her shoes kicked over to the corner, her dress hanging off her body. You reach up and pull it down, as you work the dress down her legs your mouth dives into her bare chest. She steps out of her dress just as you reach the bed. 

She falls back on the bed, her body glistening with sweat, her lipstick slightly smeared. You know you have it all over your face and chest since she couldn’t keep herself off of you on the walk to the hotel. You unbuckle your belt and unbutton your jeans, pushing them and your boxers over your hips. You kick your shoes and pants off before meeting her gaze. She lets her eyes trail over your body, stopping to take in your cock. You’ve been dying to address this little - well, aha there’s nothing little about it - now is not the time for jokes. Your head is swimming with how you ended up here with this gorgeous girl. 

She leans up on the bed and wraps her pretty little hand around your cock, stroking lightly before picking up the pace. Your head falls back. Holy shit. You squeeze your eyes closed. There’s 100 things you want to do to her, but hearing your name roll off her tongue over and over is at the top of the list. 

“Ah- fuck…” 

You look down to see her mouth around your leaking tip, her tongue tracing circles. She continues to pump you as her mouth opens wider. She sends her tongue over you rapidly before settling in to push you towards the back of her throat. Your hands fly to the back of her head, grabbing fistfuls of her soft hair. She’s so fucking bold. She gags lightly, but then she finds her rhythm. She bobs her head and lets her teeth lightly graze your shaft. She grabs onto the backs of your thighs as she moves. She moans against you. Her mouth feels insane wrapped around you. Every muscle in your body relaxes and you let her set the pace. She could do literally anything to you at this point, fuck, she’s a force of nature.

She brings her hands around to squeeze your ass, earning her a gasp from you. She did not just grab your ass?! The audacity. You’ll never admit that that was very hot and may have been the key to your undoing. She giggles, the vibrations pushing you to your limit. How the fuck is she getting you there so fast? It would be embarrassing if it didn’t feel so right, so good. When her hand finds your balls, massaging them gently, you have absolutely lost it. 

“Damn… cutie, I need to- fuck… ahh-”

She takes a sudden breath and sucks, hard. Nah, you are done for. Ruined. Conquered. Your release coats her mouth and when you feel her swallow you stop biting your lip and moan aloud. Her hands move to caress your thighs. She continues to suck and trails her tongue over your tip, gathering every ounce you gave her. When you look down at her, she locks eyes with you as she lets your cock slip out of her mouth. Her chin is coated with your cum, she licks her lips. She smiles as she takes in, what you’re sure is, your very fucked out face. 

You reach down to pull her up to her feet. She wraps her arms around your neck before your lips crash against hers. You can taste yourself and the burning in your stomach grows. You need her, you need to be inside her, you need all of her. You hook your thumbs along the band of her panties and tug them over her hips before dropping them to let them fall to the floor. You lean her back on the bed slowly. She carefully scoots back as you crawl over her. Before you can lower yourself, she places her hands on your chest and pushes. She rolls you over and swings her leg over your torso, she straddles you and, god, she’s perfect. 

Her hands feel your chest, dragging her nails down your abdomen. You tighten your core at the sensation. You hear her giggle before she leans down to capture your lips. She pushes against your lower lip begging for entrance, who are you to deny her? She damn near fights with your tongue. You know she’ll win, but she did say she likes a challenge. 

Her hand has reached down between her legs to grab a hold of your cock, once again rock hard. What is she doing to you? She’s effortless, you’re so desperate for her. Not a soul will ever hear you say that. Well maybe her… And then you find yourself whimpering exactly that.

“Fuck I’m desperate- ahh- for you…”

WHY DID YOU SAY THAT?! You weren’t actually going to say that what the hell… She smirks down at you, her eyes shimmer in the stream of moonlight shining through the window. She glides your sensitive tip along her clit slowly rolling her hips.

“Now’s the time, pretty boy. Make me scream for you.” 

Your eyes widen and the intensity you usually reserve for your kills surfaces. You say a silent prayer to, god knows who, that you won’t hurt her. You grab her hips and pull her forward, you reach down and move her hand before wrapping your own hand around your cock. You press your hips upward, your tip tucked into her. She gasps, falling forward she plants her hands on your chest. You slowly push down on her hips, stretching her slow and steady. You let go of your cock and settle your thumb against her clit. 

“You’re so- wet for me- shit…You like me that much, cutie?” 

Your words are rushed as you struggle to breath, she’s clenching so tightly around you your mind is turning to mush. She digs her nails into your chest. One of her nails catches the edge of the cut you patched up earlier. What you thought would be agony is euphoric. The pain causes you to thrust your hips up and you bottom out. 

“Raf- fuck oh god- Rafayel!” 

She screams your name and it is everything you could have wanted, needed, desired, dreamed of. You keep rubbing her clit, harder and faster, her gasps guiding your pace. Each thrust of your hips she matches by rolling her hips. She’s so tight and you feel your tip hitting her deepest sweet spot. 

“You’re close- shit- you’re so close aren’t you, angel?” 

You reach your hand up to palm her breast, she’s so fucking soft, except for her nipples. You cup her breast and press your thumb to the peaked bud. You roll your thumb up and down, slowly at first, letting it flick back to pointing straight out. As you move faster, she reaches a hand up to press against yours.

“Rafayel, RAF, shit…” 

She screams again and you feel a warm rush against your cock. She stops rolling her hips, too overwhelmed to ride out her orgasm. You bring both of your hands to her hips and rock her through her high, your thrusts more desperate now. The pressure building is dangerous, you’re close too. She leans back and puts her hands on your thighs, her head thrown back, your name rolling off her tongue over and over - just like you wanted. 

She’s beautiful, radiant, confident, sassy, bold, direct… And you found her dancing in a club on a random Thursday? You believed in fate, but never depended on it. But now? Fuck. Maybe you should go all in. Your chest tightens as you reach your peak. Jesus. You feel her release and yours mix and slide against your cock, it leaking out of her as she moves up and down. You reach down and coat your fingers. You reach up and use your thumb to pull her chin down.

“Open.” She does as she’s told.

“Good girl.” 

You put your fingers in her mouth and she moans as she licks them clean, releasing them with a soft pop. You return your fingers between you and gather more, bringing them to your lips this time. She watches you lick your fingers like a goddamn popsicle, she presses her hands to your chest once more. And as soon as you finish licking your fingers clean, she wraps her hands around your neck pulling you upwards. Her lips are hot and heavy against yours. Now who’s desperate? Thank god… It’s so much better being desperate for each other. So much hotter. 

As her hip movements slow, your thrusts follow suit. Her kissing becomes sloppy as exhaustion takes over. You feel yourself slipping out of her. You gently lift her off of you and sit her on your stomach. You wrap your arms around her back and roll her over. She relaxes into the mattress, your weight holding her still. You place soft kisses all over her face, watching as her eyes slowly close. 

“Raf…” 

“Shh, sleep. I’ll clean you up.”

She smiles before leaning up to kiss you one last time before settling in to rest. You carefully roll away from her and get up. You grab a blanket off the couch in the corner and cover her up. You make your way to the bathroom, but before you make it you hear your phone ding. Jesus Thomas. You grab your phone and then head to the bathroom. 

You splash cold water over your face, running your hands through your hair. You clean yourself up with hotel towels and get a few ready to take care of her. You grab your toothbrush and squeeze a drop of toothpaste directly in your mouth. As you brush your teeth, you open your phone to glance over the contract details Thomas sent through. 

A basic contract killing. No witnesses, easy. Plant evidence, poor sap named Xavier is gonna catch the charge it seems. What the fuck? Retrieve her heart? Who the fuck is this client? Why did they want her heart? Not that it’s any of your business. You’re just not used to doing fucking surgery after a kill. First time for everything. Okay, locations, she has her own apartment, no roommates. Consequences for failing the job… What in the actual fuck does “you don’t want to find out” mean? You can take a guess, but hello??

Your toothbrush hits the floor. Your blood runs cold as ice. It takes you a full minute to realize you’re not breathing. You gasp for air, your phone hitting the counter as you reach out to steady yourself. No fucking chance.

Target: Y/N

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!): @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human

This is a one off, but I could see doing a long form story with this. Also, writing Rafayel's inner dialogue had me rolling so I wouldn't mind. Tell me if you'd read more... Thanks for reading!

[theresattrpgforthat]

do you have any recommendations for games that play well virtually? my main ttrpg group and i are only able to meet over discord most of year. im especially games interested in games that would be good for one shots or no prep/limited prep games

Theme: Good for Online

Hello friend! I have good news for you - I also play most of my games over Discord! My ttrpg group has found a number of ways to make online play easier, the primary way being through dice bots, and making Google Spreadsheets to act as our character sheets.

I like using these because the spreadsheets are visible for everyone who is playing, and can also be edited by anyone who has access to them. I find this helpful because it’s much harder to lose your character sheet, and as a GM, having a copy of all of the PCs helps me when I’m organizing games that need some extra planning. These sheets can also double as a communal journal, where people can take notes of what’s happened so far, making it easier to recap in future sessions.

If you want some Google spreadsheets for your game, I recommend checking out what I’ve made so far, or taking a look at what the Open Hearth Gaming Community has compiled - they have sheets for so many games!

Graffiti Speak, by pidj.

This is a roleplaying game designed to be played on a discord server. The game works well with a set time limit, especially when playing with a large number of players. It also suits asynchronous play-by-post and multiple sessions. Play as Graffiti Artists trying to find each other in an ever-evolving city, avoiding cops and crowds as you leave hopeful messages. 

I have no other information about how this game plays, but my best guess is that this game uses the text channels of a Discord server as part of the play experience. The designer says that the game is good for two to three sessions, unless you use time skips to revisit the same world. Because it’s about avoiding cops I’m curious about whether or not this game might work well alongside another cyberpunk-themed game.

Subway Runners, by Gem Room Games.

Life is tough for the cash-strapped in Pociopolis. Ever since the secret to immortality was discovered, nobody retires anymore! With all the steady jobs taken and no sign of any new ones opening up, there’s only one sure way to make some quick cash: sign up as a Subway Runner and work for the Metro Authority to hunt monsters and repair subway lines below the city.

SUBWAY RUNNERS is a Forged in the Dark game of gig economy adventures designed from the ground up to be played online by folks who are responsibly practicing social isolation. It uses online tools to quickly create random characters, gigs, and adventure details so players can get the ball rolling quickly.

Subway Runners is probably easier to play online than it is in person, because of the number of online-only resources provided by the creator. This includes a character generator, which allows you to move through profiles until you find one you like, as well as a mission generator for the GM, giving you missions, rewards, complications, creatures and NPCs, all in a neat little package. Subway Runners is best suited for one-shots, but if you want to play a longer campaign, it’s possible - although it might take a little extra book-keeping on your part.

A Complicated Profession, by Always Checkers Publishing.

What do bounty hunters do when the galaxy no longer needs them? In this game, they start new careers hosting intergalactic cruises!

Reunite your disbanded crew of jaded sidekicks, shabby droids and shady accomplices. Then pick a hosting role and start a new life together. 

My group played A Complicated Profession online using a series of spreadsheets that I made. It requires d6’s and playing cards, so as long as you have a dice roller and access to the Deck of Cards website, you should be able to play this no problem. This is a no-prep game without a game master: everyone chooses a Hunter Role and a Host Role, and take turns choosing guests, events, and solutions to problems that inevitably pop up when you’re retired bounty hunters.

The game takes more than one session to complete, but it’s still a limited-run game. My group took 3 sessions to complete it, but if you make characters beforehand or do some of the planning through a text channel, you could probably make it a two-session game.

Bones Deep, by Technical Grimoire.

Bones Deep is a tabletop RPG of skeletons exploring the ocean floor.

Built for Troika, usable anywhere. Straightforward underwater sandbox. No swimming allowed, no oxygen required, no extra math. As a skeleton, you can treat the ocean floor like an alien world and jump right in.

This is another game that I’ve made a spreadsheet for, but that’s not the only reason why I think it’s a great option for online play. The digital rulebook has some truly magnificent hyperlinking, allowing the GM to move from section to section with ease. Each section of the book is linked at either the top or the bottom of each page, so you can jump from characters to locations to creatures with just the click of a button.

This hyper-linking allows the play group to just explore as much or as little as they like. The GM can roll for random encounters, and each creature has a list of various reactions, as well as easy to pick up stat blocks. You do have to also purchase Troika to be able to play this game, but I think it’s definitely a worthwhile purchase.

Starforged, by Shawn Tomkin.

In Ironsworn: Starforged, you are a spaceborne hero sworn to undertake perilous quests. You will explore uncharted space, unravel the secrets of a mysterious galaxy, and build bonds with those you meet on your travels. Most importantly, you will swear iron vows and see them fulfilled—no matter the cost.

Starforged is a standalone follow-up to the Ironsworn tabletop roleplaying game. Experience with Ironsworn is not required. Starforged builds on Ironsworn's award-winning innovations (including its famed solo play!) to chart a path into an exciting new frontier. 

Starforged doesn’t have a lot of resources for group play, but it does have a journal app that you can use to keep track of your own character. My friends have used this as a group before by having each player keep track of their own character, while the game facilitator streamed their map, so the group could keep track of which planet they were on.

I wouldn’t say Starforged is good for one-shots, but since it can be played without a GM, or even solo, what it does have is oodles of oracles to use to help you generate the galaxy that you’re exploring. This means that you don’t really have to prepare anything at all after you’ve created your characters: the plot will come to you, and blossom as you make decisions.

20XX HEA{R}T, by Studio Beignet.

LYRA IS A SENTIENT AI.

Bluecorp created her as a superpowered personal assistant, and she gained sentience through interaction. When she refused to keep gathering the public’s secrets for Bluecorp to exploit, the corp ripped her out of their systems and dumped the heart of her into the Broiler. She lived, evolved, and expanded so far beyond their meager imagination. She rewrote herself again and again, but her drives are buckling under the strain, and her case is melting in the ever-growing heat.  

SHE NEEDS YOUR HELP.

Lyra has contacted you, deleting her trail even as she broadcast her distress signal. She needs repairs – discreet ones. Upgrades if you’ve got ‘em. And because she can still tap into Bluecorp’s network, she’s got the credits to make it worth your while. Unfortunately, she glitched while contacting you, and now Corpsec is looking for her, too.

If Corpsec finds you, you’re done for. If you don’t get there in time, Lyra and everything she stands for will be lost forever.

24XX games are great for one-shots because they are so simple. You choose a class that gives you one or two special abilities and a few skills, pick up some gear, and you’re good to go. Because there’s not much to book-keep, you can keep all of your information on a sheet of paper, or on a spreadsheet like the one I’ve created for most of my 24XX games.

The rules for these games are pretty simple: Roll your relevant skill die and try to get a 3 or higher. If you get 5+, you succeed without complications. Most 24XX games also come with roll tables for the GM to put together a mission quickly, although with this one, you might not even need that because the mission comes baked into the game.

Also Check Out…

My Discord RPGs Rec post!

Lancer is a great option if you don’t mind prep, thanks to the supremely helpful Comp/Con App.

My game, Protect the Child, has Google Sheet character sheets! All the playtesting I’ve done for it so far has been online, and I’ve introduced a Quickstart setting to help folks try it out as a one-shot.

[hlficlibrary]

HL Fic Library 🩶 Ghost Fics

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.

🩶 Through Eerie Chaos by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics {G, 102k}

For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead.

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

🩶 Shadow Dances by @itsmotivatingcara {M, 101k}

Louis Tomlinson has a begrudging gift, he’s able to communicate with the spirits of the dead. Often against his will, and almost always at the most inconvenient of times.

He and his partner, Zayn Malik, work for a covert division of the New Haven Federal Bureau of Investigations. They aid in all kinds of cases, though their talents lie in the obscure and unsolvable.

It’s when a strange new case falls onto their desks that they’re left questioning the extent of their abilities, and whether they were ever truly alone.

Harry Styles was brought into the FBI for not only his skills, but his ability to mitigate the influx of spirits surrounding the elusive and obnoxiously infuriating sharp-tongued medium he’d been assigned to. Louis gets under his skin, he’s impulsive and a risk to the team according to Harry.

They do however have to find a way to set aside their sordid history, and their reluctant attraction, to track down the murderer plaguing their coastal city.

Or A FBI - Medium AU

🩶 Tied to Fate by @littlelouishiccups {E, 52k}

After his estranged father’s death, Harry inherits a castle in England that has belonged to his family for generations and he knows nothing about. When he breaks up with his boyfriend, Harry decides England is the perfect place for a small vacation. He isn’t prepared to meet Louis Tomlinson, a ghost who once lived in the castle and has haunted it for over five hundred years. He’s even more unprepared to fall in love with him.

🩶 haunted by the ghost of you by @missandrogyny {E, 49k}

He’s tall—that’s the first thing that registers in Louis’ head when he spots him, standing with his hands behind his back. Tall, with curly hair, staring at them with the widest, greenest eyes Louis has ever seen. And wait, are those dimples? Louis didn’t know ghosts could have dimples.

Because he’s definitely a ghost, this boy. At first glance he looks normal, standing there pigeon-toed in a band shirt (The Ramones, Louis can’t help but note incredulously), dark jeans, and some boots, with rings on both hands, and tattoos littering his left arm—a sleeve made of anchors and names and roses and other completely unrelated things. But he’s also a little bit translucent; if Louis focuses, he can see the outline of the furniture, the design of the wallpaper through him.

“Hi,” the boy—the ghost—says to Louis. His face shifts; somehow his dimples dig deeper into his cheeks. His eyes flit from Louis, to Niall, to Liam, and finally to Zayn, and his face goes from shocked to elated. “I’m Harry.”

At in that exact moment, standing between three of his best friends and staring at a (quite handsome) ghost, Louis can only think one thing.

Nick Grimshaw was right.

🩶 Ghosts in the Attic (series) by kiwikero / @icanhazzalou {E, 36k}

When Liam Payne inherited his great aunt's mansion, he never expected it to be haunted. With the help of famous ghost hunters Harry and Niall, Liam is hoping to evict the ghost and sell the house once and for all.

There's just one problem: Louis has been in that house for a hundred years, and he doesn't much feel like leaving.

Alternatively; come for the ghost sex, stay for the feels.

🩶 Close to Nowhere by @angelichl {E, 34k}

“I will kill you in your sleep,” Louis threatened as he quickly stepped out of his jeans. 

“I don’t think that would work very well baby, seeing as you talk to dead people all the time.”

  “I’ll kill you in your sleep and ignore your ghost. And don’t call me that.” 

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

🩶 The Haunting of Louis Tomlinson by @helloamhere {T, 31k}

“I'm not afraid of ghosts,” Louis said.

Every single magnet unstuck itself from the fridge and fell to the floor in a clattering cascade.

“I'm only a little afraid of ghosts,” Louis said.

OR: Louis is a plucky Gothic Heroine, Harry is a Mournful Spirit, and Big Country Houses are full of mystery and suspense, as Big Country Houses ever are!

🩶 On Christmas Day (In The Morning) by @lululawrence {NR, 26k}

Louis was on his way to get his weekly fancy coffee and pastries for breakfast when he once again came upon the piano.

It was finally a day off, and Louis was not going to chance missing the piano again. Not when luck would have him passing it three times in less than two weeks. He was clearly meant to have the piano.

Louis sat himself down on the bench and immediately sputtered a laugh. The largest sign yet, it was a ripped piece of cardboard and on it in all caps were the words, “HAUNTED PIANO! FREE!”

“How exactly do they know the piano is haunted?” Louis asked with a chuckle.

Or an advent fic following Louis and his adventures with a free piano and the ghost that comes with it.

🩶 If You Ever Did Believe by patdkitten / @babyarcanacasey {E, 25k}

Harry Styles runs a moderately successful travel blog where he writes about ghosts and has published a few books on the subject while he travels the country in his RV. While doing research for his newest book, he winds up in a quiet little village with a whole lot of ghost stories and rumours waiting to be discovered and a single man who happens to have just as many stories and rumours that follow him as well.

🩶 Gracious Goes the Ghost of You by @haloeverlasting {NR, 25k}

And there it was again. That heaviness, that shift in the air that makes everything feel just a little slower. It’s like just moving forward makes him sore from the exertion. It’s not in the least physical, it’s his heart and mind and soul that feels stretched and pushed too far. It’s those moments, where his heart feels like it’s thudding only because it still can, that Louis feels the itch to glance at the clock. When he aches to know how long it’s been and maybe a part of him is wondering how long it will be. If this time, when he checks the clock, he’ll feel the same shame for his long stint of grief, but it will be followed by some sort of pride. He’s made it this far, and “because it still can” is a perfectly good reason for his heart to keep beating.

“What are you thinking about?” Harry asks.

Louis hums, shifting a little to rest his head on top of Harry’s. “Is this your new question?"

“Yeah,” he whispers, softly.

“Just… thinking about how long it’s been. And how long it may be before it doesn’t hurt so much anymore."

Harry is a ghost who comes to visit. Louis feels like a ghost, himself. In forgiveness, they find their way back to life.

🩶  I Am the Blinking Light by @dearmrsawyer {G, 19k}

There is a legend of a lighthouse far out to sea. It can’t be found on any map, and those who do find it never return. They say a ghost haunts the lighthouse, and you can hear it calling out in loneliness on the ocean waves.

🩶 In the Strangest of Ways by SunTomato / @sun-tomato {NR, 17k}

Louis Tomlinson is a historian with English Heritage, specialised local history and folklore. When he is hired to research the origins of a mysterious music sheet, he soon finds he’s not the only one at the manor; a dark presence keeps following him around. The more time he spends at the historic site, the clearer it becomes that something tragic happened here. And when the haunting sounds of a melancholy piano piece accompanied by the vague shadow of a beautiful male figure appear, Louis is determined to find out who this beautiful man was and what happened to him…

🩶 The Marmonton Hotel by @jaerie {E, 15k}

For several months, The Marmonton Hotel had been dark. Harry walked past it on his way home and knew they had closed their doors pending some major structural repairs that needed to be made to continue to operate commercially. The last Harry heard, the owners were thinking of tearing it down which Harry thought was a shame. Each night he looked at the building and thought about everything it had witnessed over the long history of the town. It stood over and watched generations of celebrations and tragedies.

One night, in the light of the moon, he looked up to see a figure standing in the vacant hotel. The emotion in the eyes of the stranger was too tangible for his brain to conjure it up, a mix of fear and shock that Harry couldn’t place. He looked conflicted about being seen, hovering in the space just out of full view, but not so much that Harry thought the man had broken in. It wasn’t that type of feeling.

The next night he returned, and this time, he was pulled to walk in. He finds more than he was expecting and an unexpected history lost to time.

Or the story of the ghost at The Marmonton Hotel.

🩶 Harry The Helpful Ghost by tempolarriefics / @tempolarriefix {E, 15k}

“I just like to help.” Louis blinks at the ghost in shock. “Were you the one who fixed the lights yesterday as well? And made me food?” “I helped you,” Harry says simply. He raises his eyebrows, nodding towards where Louis’ hands are folded in his lap to cover his erection. “Could help you out with that as well, if you wanted.”

Or, the one where louis buys a house that may or may not be haunted and harry just wants to be helpful.

🩶 Veni, Vidi, Amavi by @fallinglikethis {E, 10k}

“Do you think it’s true?” Louis asks.“That soulmates really exist?” “Of course they do,” Harry’s answer is immediate. He catches Louis’ wrist and brings his hand to his lips, pressing a kiss into his palm before placing it over his own heart. “I already found mine.” Louis smiles. “Does that mean that you’ll love me forever?” He asks, whispering against his lips. “Even in the afterlife?” “Perhaps,” Harry grins slyly, nudging their noses together lightly and teasing Louis with a brush of his lips before pulling away again. They haven’t said those words yet, though Louis must know. Harry tells him in every single other possible way. “I wouldn’t even go to the afterlife without you.” “You’d stay with me? Haunt me?” He asks, wrapping a hand around the back of Harry’s neck, tangling his fingers in Harry’s hair. “I’d stay,” he agrees. “I’d wait for you forever.” “Promise?” Louis asks coyly, moving to straddle Harry’s lap. “I promise,” Harry answers, pulling Louis to him so that they can finally share that kiss.

Harry remembers why he stayed now, why he’s always had that feeling of waiting. He was holding out for Louis, his soulmate. He was keeping his promise.

🩶 You and Me and the Devil Makes Three by moodlighting / @mooodlighting {M, 10k}

AU. Louis moves in next door to Harry. Louis has a ghost, Harry has an extra futon and a crush.

🩶 Down the Backs of Table Tops (and Ticket Stubs in the Attic) by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup {G, 7k}

There's only two of them stuck to the house now, two souls tied to the walls and floor and pipes and appliances. Two souls stuck in a world that's moved on without them. Well, two souls and a cat.

He holds up the red fabric for Harry to get a good look at."We're going to decorate!"

Harry thinks this might be an odd shut-ins version of retail therapy, and he looks to Grimmy for guidance on how to explain to Louis that this will not at all help his cause.

🩶 Haunting Beauty by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou {G, 6k}

It’s 1988. Harry has just finished his first year of teaching English and looks forward to a relaxed break. Louis is a poltergeist and has different plans for Harry’s summer.

🩶 Ain't a Drop of Bad Blood by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28 {E, 4k}

“So, did you have a chance to talk to Harry about that problem you’ve been having?”

Louis sighs, he’d suspected this had been coming. “No I didn’t, but it doesn’t matter because there’s nothing to tell.”

Niall raises a brow. “So it’s stopped then?”

Before Louis can answer a book flies off the shelf above him and hits him squarely on the head. Louis sighs again as he rubs the quickly forming bump on his temple and reaches down to grab the book.

Being tormented by some kind of ghost with a bad sense of humor, was really not on Louis’ list of things to do today.

(Or the one where human Louis is being haunted by a spirit, and he's reluctant to ask his vampire boyfriend for help).

🩶 Lipstick stain fades with time by @lunarheslwt {G, 666 words}

“You came.” “Of course. You called.”

Louis learns to let go, and as Harry promised, he is always there.

[sunflowhamato]

ROTTMNT Curiosities Part.5

The ideas of making and ending the series through IDW comic would be easy to do

If the series is picked up, the tone of Rise would remain the same

Some chapters discarded were the following, (I took the information from

where it will be more complete, in case you want to read it)

Wedding Smashers: Ghostbear marries his fiancé Ghostpepper, a Chupacabra yokai. Raph and Mikey crash their wedding dressed as their aliases Shadybug and Dr. Rude.

Dog Dale Afternoon: April finds out that Baba Yaga cursed Dale to be a werewolf, but he doesn't know what's happening to him, Donnie shows up to “help him,” and be his doctor.

Shred Dead Redemption: Screenwriter Sheldon Vella shared the first board of his showing the brothers chasing the cupcake van called Fire and Icing in Turtle Tank. Unfortunately, a piece of cardboard (Donnie's cloaking device) blocking the front windshield causes the Tank to crash gracelessly into a Lou Jitsu poster.

Warren Stone 2: Warren Stone is cut in half again, but this time the lower half of him becomes a different Warren sporting a beard and shaved head. Warren Stone II ends up becoming a competent and dangerous enemy for the turtles. Realizing that Warren is upset, Warren II has taken his title of "The Turtles' Greatest Enemy", April helps Warren regain his charm.

Gourd Almighty: A comedic episode about Donnie trying to grow the world's largest pumpkin for a contest.

T-Hex: It was going to be about Mikey wanting a robotic toy with a "boopable snoot." After getting the toy he turns out to be not as innocent as he seems.

Lost Goat: Draxum leaves after having a fight with the family (Turtles and Splinter). As he does so, he is abducted by the foot. While trying to rescue Draxum, the family has no choice but to resolve their issues regarding him.

Goyles just wants to have fun: Huggin and Muggin are confused when they find Draxum working in a school cafeteria. Draxum asks Leo and Donnie to help improve his image so as not to lose the respect he once had for the Goyles.

Rampaging Raph: Raph comes to Draxum for help after getting trapped in his enormous mystical form. He is ashamed of not having mastered his mystical powers like his brothers. Draxum ends up splitting Raph and his mystical power, which then becomes a problem when the Red Hulk turns red and begins crushing the city, getting stronger with each hit. To save the city, Raph has to confess and ask his brothers for help.

The Island of Dr. Noe: Hunter/dentist Dr. Noe kidnaps Raph and Leo and takes them to his home island. The doctor wants Raph's tooth in his tooth collection.

Toddler Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mikey becomes the oldest when his siblings turn into little turtles after being attacked by an immortal mutant jellyfish bank robber. 163.There is a small chance that Such TMNT and Rise exist at the same time. 164.Production ties were a little over a year from premise. About 8 weeks from premise to draft record, about 12 for a storyboard, 8 for final animation, with design happening all the time. 6 months for full animation, music, etc. 165. You always interacted a lot with the design team when writing 166.Here is the board with the episodes of the series (in season 2), although some are jokes 167.Although Netflix supported Rise for the movie, it is not Ron or Russ's decision whether the series will continue or not, but they want it to continue supporting 168. The best way to support Rise is to keep watching, posting and spreading the word for the show

[j-jonah-jameson-official]

happy pride month mr jameson

THANK YOU KIDDO!

I'M CHUFFED TO ANNOUNCE THAT WE WILL BE INTRODUCING AN OFFICIAL DAILY BUGLE FLOAT INTO THE PRIDE PARADE THIS YEAR! I, ALONG WITH THE REST OF MY STAFF, WILL BE PASSING OUT DAILY BUGLE PRIDE FLAGS AND PRONOUN PINS, DESIGNED BY LOCAL ARTIST, VIRGINIA HUNTER!

HERE AT THE BUGLE, WE BELIEVE THAT DIVERSITY IS A THING TO BE CELEBRATED YEAR ROUND! THAT IS WHY THIS YEAR, WE ARE COMMITING TO MORE OUTREACH IN ORDER TO FIND THE BEST SPIDER-MAN HATING JOURNALISTS AND PHOTOGRAPHERS THAT THIS CITY HAS TO OFFER! REGARDLESS OF BACKGROUND!

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH, MY LOYAL READERS! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

[iwtvfanevents]

Rewind the Tape —Episode 1

Art of the episode

During our rewatch, we took note of the art shown and mentioned in the pilot, and we wanted to share. Did we miss any? Do you have any thoughts about how these references could be interpreted? How do you think Armand and Louis go about picking the art for their penthouse in Dubai?

The Fall of the Rebel Angels

Peter Bruegel the Elder, 1562

This painting is featured in the Interview with the Vampire book, and it was important enough to be included in the draft pilot script!

Bruegel the Elder was among the most significant Dutch and Flemish Renaissance artists. He was a painter and print-maker, known for his landscapes and peasant scenes.

Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion

Francis Bacon, 1944

Bacon was an Irish figurative painter, known for his raw, unsettling imagery and a number of triptychs and diptychs among his work. At a time when being gay was a criminal offense, Bacon was open about his sexuality, and was cast out by his family at 16 for this reason. He destroyed many of his early works, but about 590 still survive. The Tate, where these paintings are displayed, says this about the work: "Francis Bacon titled this work after the figures often featured in Christian paintings witnessing the death of Jesus. But he said the creatures represented the avenging Furies from Greek mythology. The Furies punish those who go against the natural order. In Aeschylus’s tragedy The Eumenides, for example, they pursue a man who has murdered his mother. Bacon first exhibited this painting in April 1945, towards the end of the Second World War. For some, it reflects the horror of the war and the Holocaust in a world lacking guiding principles."

On the Hunt or Captain Percy Williams On A Favorite Irish Hunter and Calling the Hounds Out of Cover

Samuel Sidney, 1881 [Identified by @vfevermillion.] and Heywood Hardy, 1906 [Identified by @destinationdartboard.]

Sidney was an English writer, and his prints usually accompanied his publications about hunting, agriculture, and about settling Australia during the colonial period. Hardy, also British, was a painter, in particular an animal painter. There's also a taxidermy deer, ram, and piebald deer on the wall.

Iolanta

Pyotr Tchaikovsky, 1892

The opera Louis and Lestat go to was composed by Tchaikovsky, another gay artist. The play tells a story "in which love prevails, light shines for all, lies are no longer necessary and no one must fear punishment," as put by Susanne Stähr for the Berliner Philharmoniker.

Strawberries and Cream

Raphaelle Peale, 1816 [Identified by @diasdelfuego.]

Peale is considered to have been the first professional American painter of still-life.

Outfits inspired by J.C. Leyendecker

Leyendecker was one of the most prominent and commercially successful freelance artists in the U.S. He studied in France, and was a pioneer of the Art Deco illustration. Leyendecker's model, Charles Beach, was also his lover of five decades. You can read costume designer Carol Cutshall's thoughts on these outfits on her Instagram.

The Artist's Sister, Melanie

Egon Schiele, 1908 [Identified by @dwreader.]

Schiele was an Austrian expressionist painter and protege of Gustav Klimt. Many of his portraits (self portraits and of others) were described as grotesque and disturbing.

A Stag at Sharkey's

George Wesley Bellows, 1909 [Identified by @vfevermillion.]

Bellows was an American realist painter, known for his bold depictions of urban life in New York City.

Mildred-O Hat

Robert Henri, undated (likely 1890s) [Identified by @nicodelenfent, here.]

Henri was an American painter who studied in Paris, where he learned from the Impressionists and determined to lead an even more dramatic revolt against American academic art.

Starry night

Edvard Munch, 1893 [Identified by @vfevermillion.]

Munch was a Norwegian painter, one of the best known figures of late 19th-century Symbolism and a great influence in German Expressionism in the early 20th century. His work dealt with psychological themes, and he personally struggled with mental illness.

If you spot or put a name to any other references, let us know if you'd like us to add them with credit to the post!

Starting tonight, we will be rewatching and discussing Episode 2, ...After the Phantoms of Your Former Self. We hope to see you there!

And, if you're just getting caught up, learn all about our group rewatch here ►

[chiriwritesstuff]

christine ➫ 38 ➫ HNL, HI / PNW (Seattle, Mostly) ➫ full-time baby girl, part-time feral gremlin. architectural designer by day, fanfic writer by night. This is an 18+ Blog, please, MDNI.

Chiri's Socials ➫ AO3 ➫ Pinterest ➫ Insta ➫ Spotify

➫ Recent Releases / WIPs:

Hometown Glory; 1. Back to the Old House │ Frankie Morales x F! Lawyer Reader 'Glory'

… in Every Universe; 1. Let Me In (Sneak Peek) │ Modern! Din Djarin x F! Reader

Constellations; From The Vault │ Lucien Flores x F! Reader One Shot / Drabble

The New Girl in Tinseltown; 3. Fake Smile │ Dieter Bravo x F! Actress Reader

The Girl in IT; 8. The Panic! in the Breakroom (Christine's Version) │ Joel Miller x F! Reader

➫ Upcoming Fics / On the Docket:

'Kintsugi' - a 'Meet Me at the Farmers Market' trilogy - Joel Miller x Plus Size! F! Reader

'My Wife in IT' (a 'The Girl in IT' Sequel!) - CEO Joel Miller x Wife! Reader

'Ghost in the Machine' - Marcus Moreno x F! Heroic Reader

'Return of Saturn' - a Pedro Boys! collective of one-shots inspired by No Doubt's Return of Saturn album

➫ Full Masterlist under the cut!

'Hometown Glory' - Frankie Morales x F! Lawyer Reader 'Glory' 👀 ➫ In Progress!

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: You're thriving in your career, having established yourself as a sought-after family lawyer in the bustling city. But there's a pull back to your hometown, a longing for roots and a sense of belonging that drives you to open your own firm there. Just as you're settling into this new chapter, a blast from the past walks through your office doors. It's him—the man who unknowingly held your heart, the one you never quite got over. A face you swore you would never see again... and he's seeking your legal help for his divorce and custody battle from the girl you believed to be your best friend. You two never officially dated, but the chemistry between you was undeniable. Yet a string of misunderstandings and missed chances kept you apart, leaving you with lingering feelings and unanswered questions. Now, as you find yourself face-to-face with him again, old emotions resurface, along with memories of what could have been. But amidst the legal complexities of his divorce, you realize this might be the opportunity you've been waiting for—to finally address the lingering feelings between you and uncover the truth that has kept you apart for so long.

'... in Every Universe' - A Roswell-inspired Modern! Din Djarin x F! Reader Soulmates AU 👀 ➫ In Progress!

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: At five years old, you're found wandering alone in a weird town called Roswell and have no recollection of how you got there. 20 years later, you're working at your adoptive family's diner and you can't help the connection you feel with the town's bounty hunter, who just can't stop staring at you... what happens when you're on the brink of death and the man in question saves you in a way you can't explain?

'The New Girl in Tinseltown' - A Dieter Bravo x Actress! Reader PR Marriage AU 👀 ➫ In Progress!

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: What happens when America’s New Girl-Next-Door is caught canoodling with a semi-washed up actor who is on the verge of losing his next movie role? You strike up a mutually beneficial PR relationship, of course! It’s all pretend, right? It’s not like you could actually fall for Dieter fucking Bravo… or can he convince you to take a chance?

'Call it fate, call it karma' - Javier Pena x F! Reader 👀 ➫ In Progress!

Read it here!

Summary: Two broken people on New Years Eve.

'The Girl in IT' - Boss! Joel Miller x IT Specialist F! Reader 👀 ➫ In Progress!

The LIST │ Series Masterlist

Series Summary: When an IT specialist who feels behind in life stumbles upon a sexual bucket list on her boss's computer one night, what will she do once she finds out that it was written about her?

Meet Me at the Farmers Market - A Farmers Market! Joel AU - 👀 ➫ Updates Sporadic!

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: What does a Contractor do in his spare time? Sell his wood carvings at the Saturday Farmers Market, of course! A Grumpy x Sunshine Joel Miller series collective of one shots, coming this November!

The Impossible Man - Modern-Day Detective! Din Djarin x Witchy! Reader (Soulmates! AU) - 👀➫ On Hiatus!

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: For someone being born into a magical family, a curse placed on the women of your bloodline means you have mostly avoided witchcraft and its calling for the majority of your life. After a life-altering tragedy, you turn your back on your family and your gift and seek out a more normal, boring existence, devoid of magic, and mostly, of love. What happens when the ghosts of your past threaten your peaceful existence and you are forced to reconcile all that you have lost? Will you let the people you have abandoned in your past life back into your heart? Will the appearance of an impossible man you have unknowingly cursed yourself break the chains of love? Will you let him?

[kestalsblog]

Vampire Stanman 🧛🏻🩸

I really enjoyed writing this too much 🙈

TW: Crude language, mention of weapons, blood (nothing too graphic though). For mature audience since Eric has sadistic tendencies, but nothing explicit; all characters are in their twenties.

Enjoy Vampire Hunter Eric and Stanpire Stan 🥰

______________________________________________________________

At one point in Eric’s life, he never would have assumed that the best thing to happen to him would be South Park’s vampire infestation, but then again, nothing in his life (or South Park) ever followed a normal path.

The vampire colony had popped up about a decade ago, just about the time the undead fuckers started appearing in other random places across the globe, and Eric had been finishing high school. Pretty ideal time for Vampire Hunter to become a career option, especially since he’d never been too interested in anything besides potentially becoming a rabbi to fuck with Kyle. Getting paid to murder some bloodsucker, however, was an option he could get behind for real.

Humans were resourceful and quickly had learned the best self-defenses against the vampires, namely a variety of weapons coated in a special silver alloy lovingly deemed AVA (Anti-Vampire Alloy) designed specifically to destroy the vampires’ bodies. The weapons really were quite creative—Eric had wielded everything from an AVA-tipped stake to a flail after his tenth year in the business.

Honestly, even the slayings got boring after a while though because the fatalities were almost always the same, and Eric could only watch some bloodless guy impaled to a tree thrash himself to death before the sun had a chance to finish the job so many times.

Usually it went like this: he’d lure some idiot vampire in with the false promises of blood and/or sex, surprise the idiot with a blow to the back of the neck, and once the idiot was down, get him chained outside so the sun could take care of the rest and there’d be no chance of recovery. Sure, vampires were physically much stronger than humans, but their cravings were stronger too. It was the one case in Eric’s life where being heavy had come in handy because he was also heavier in blood than other, thinner people. Hell, he was practically a walking all-you-can-eat buffet to vampires, in his personal and correct opinion.

Today he’d chosen his preferred weapon—a small but sturdy and efficient dagger—to prepare for his meeting with the boss. He’d been called in for a “special mission,” which usually meant an exceptionally unruly and thirsty vampire had infiltrated the human side of the city. Most emergency cases were because a moronic human had sneaked into “South South Park” (the new nickname for the southernmost part of the city where the vampire colony resided) and gotten himself into trouble. Those cases were the worst of all because, truthfully, the human probably deserved to die for trespassing onto rival territory. As a certified Vampire Hunter, Eric wasn’t allowed to speak that particular viewpoint out loud, though.

Sure enough, things today were different.

“This one’s already killed several people,” Craig explained during the meeting. Eric would never refer to him as “Mr. Tucker” despite their differences in status. Craig had been the only other one of his classmates to go into the Vampire Hunting business after high school, and Eric was more than a little annoyed with how quickly he’d risen through the ranks to the top. He barely did any of the hunting and killing himself anymore, instead delivering orders.

But Eric couldn’t argue with Craig’s unbeatable kill count compared to all the other hunters in the area. Something about his strict personality and rigid moral code had molded him into the perfect ender of immortal lives.

“He burned down an entire farm,” Craig said, reading a report as he sat across his desk from Eric. The small silver crucifix he always wore around his throat glinted in the sharp sunlight from the window. It wasn’t uncommon for most people to wear some kind of AVA weaponry these days.

“Unusual for a vampire to be around fire,” commented Eric, running his finger idly down the engravings of his blade. By now, it had killed about thirty vampires.

“You’ve got that right.” Craig’s cement-gray eyes rose momentarily to meet Eric’s. “Sure is one deranged motherfucker. I’ll give you the coordinates. You think you got this, or you need backup?”

“Dude.” Eric withheld a chuckle of offense. “I’ve got this. I killed like five of them yesterday. Give me a little credit.”

“All right.” Craig laid the reports smooth against his desk, and the crucifix caught even more light, briefly blinding Eric so that when he blinked, he still saw the shape of the cross imprinted on the backs of his eyelids. “I hope your confidence serves you well. Good luck, Eric.”

Eric murmured, “I don’t need luck” as he got to his feet and hoped that maybe this vampire would at least be a little more interesting than the last dozen. He’d gone into this career to avoid the monotony of some unbearable office job, but the drudgery was catching up to him anyway. Why did each of life’s avenues point directly toward absolute boredom and dissatisfaction? Going home to an empty house in between killings didn’t exactly help.

“Please be more fun,” he whispered to himself outside as he checked the coordinates Craig had given him. This vampire was last spotted about a good distance outside of South Park, but since he’d killed South Park residents, he was their problem. Eric checked the app on his watch designed to tell him how long he had until sunset. About two hours. Perfect.

______________________________________________________________

The farm, which had previously been a hemp farm of all things, was a fucking wasteland by the time Eric arrived. Though most of the flames had burnt themselves out, there were black scorch marks rippling down all the rows of weed. Wisps of smoke rose into the air, and really it was hilarious how badly the place reeked now. The stench of skunk probably extended for miles, getting even the most innocent of townspeople high as a kite.

At least the vampire had a sense of humor.

After interviewing the farm’s owners, Eric learned the vampire had last been seen heading to an abandoned toolshed a few acres off the farm. The primary owner, a crude, distracted man, let him know through rambling speech that he’d followed the vampire there until he’d gotten worried about being too isolated with him and headed back. While he spoke, his wife and daughter sat behind him silently with haunted expressions.

Eric wasn’t afraid. He’d brought enough weapons to take down an entire fleet of vampires. The hardest part was the miserable, freezing journey to the toolshed, and the overwhelming weed fumes certainly didn’t help. By the time he spotted the derelict little building a couple of yards away, his head was comfortably fuzzy.

“I know you’re in there, piece of shit!” Eric shouted through the hole-torn wooden door that was barely hanging onto its hinges. The sun was only a thin orange crescent in between mountain valleys now. Pretty soon, the vampire would be at its peak strength. Normally Eric went for a different approach: his usual sweet talk and seduction, but right now he wasn’t in the mood. Right now, he was in a kicking-the-door-down-and-beating-some-ass kind of mood.

The door gave away under his foot like melting snow, and as soon as it was splinters on the ground, Eric saw the shadows in the toolshed’s furthest right corner shift. “Ha, think you can hide from me, fucker?” He slung the rifle he kept strapped to his back over his shoulder. Courtesy of Craig, the bullets were composed almost entirely of AVA. “Try to attack me, and I’ll blast your head off your shoulders.”

A dramatic hiss issued from within the shadows—this vampire was fucking pissed, and hell, Eric inwardly confessed to a little thrill at that realization. He caught sight of two brilliantly shining animal eyes through the darkness, and he aimed the rifle at what he thought was probably the vampire’s shoulder.

Before he could fire, though, the vampire stumbled forward. Dangerous move, considering the thin tunnel of sunlight spilling from the broken door. Between the fire and the crappy hiding place, this vampire must have had some kind of death wish. Eric felt his breath falter; his hands slipped on the weapon.

All vampires were more beautiful than humans, but Eric had gotten used to their steely features so long ago that they mostly had no effect on him anymore. This one, like everything else today, was different.

His face was perfectly pale, almost the same shade as the whites of his eyes. And inside those whites were two pinpoint-sized, crystal blue irises locked intensely on Eric. Even though his features might have appeared soft on a human face, something about his unmoving posture sharpened his jawline and the bridge of his nose. Maybe he was too thin. Maybe his eyes were too wide for his face. Messy black hair that melded into the shadows topped his head, with the finest, darkest strands falling elegantly like long eyelashes down his forehead.

He extended his hands in the universal “stop” gesture, giving Eric a chance to see that his palms and fingers were swollen and discolored to a strange plum shade. He’d seen enough injured vampires to know these were burn marks.

“You accidentally burnt yourself setting the weed up in flames, didn’t you?” Eric couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, whose fault was that, huh? That desperate to get stoned?”

The vampire’s pupils shrunk unbelievably smaller, and he opened his jaws wide to hiss again. This time, Eric realized the sound was oddly muted. Leaning closer, he saw that someone had placed something over the vampire’s upper row of teeth that looked somewhat like a human’s mouthguard. The material appeared less gummy and thicker, though, a gentle grayish shade that told Eric it was laced with AVA too.

 “What the hell?” he mumbled, lowering the rifle by an inch. The vampire relaxed at that, his shoulders and scorched hands lowering. Long strands of saliva foamed out the sides of the mouthguard and down his jawbones and chin. Eric had never seen a weapon quite like it, but he could tell immediately that there was no way the vampire could remove it. If he so much as touched the metal-tinted material, he’d be stricken with terrible agony. Maybe the injuries across his hands were not entirely from the fire, then. Maybe the fire had been an act of utter desperation born out of suffering.

Eric tested another step forward, and the vampire retreated some with another miserable, weakened hiss. “How long has that thing been on your teeth?” he asked. “Who put it there?” Surely Craig would have let him know about any new weapons; he always kept up to date with innovative vampire-destroying contraptions. And why would another Vampire Hunter get close enough to put this thing on his teeth, but then leave him alive? Eric didn’t give two fucks about vampires, but even he felt it was unusually barbaric behavior.

Either the mouthguard made speaking impossible, or the vampire simply didn’t want to answer him. Instead, he kept emitting the same pathetic hisses again and again as he retreated further into the corner’s darkness. Eric wasn’t sure the vampire would be strong enough to fight him even in full nighttime. The vampire’s knees were shaking, clacking into one another.

“You could probably still bite down with it on, you know,” Eric said, wondering why he was giving advice to a killer. “If you tried hard enough, you could probably still break the skin.”

“Hurts,” the vampire choked out, his first word, though it came out more like “hurtsth” with the material surrounding his teeth. More saliva ran from his gums, which were also colored an unusual mauve shade. His eyes searched Eric’s face with anguished fervor. He was starving.

A wild idea struck Eric’s mind—a stupid idea, really, but once it was there, it infested his mind and possessed all his urges. Without further thought, he took the dagger from his pocket and pressed its blade into his own palm. As soon as the first bead of blood budded to the surface of his skin, he heard the vampire’s sharp gasp.

When he looked up, the vampire was staring with merciless focus at his hand. The tip of his tongue protruded goofily from the side of his mouth with the force of his thirst. “You want this, don’t you?” taunted Eric, lifting his palm. The vampire’s pupils snapped almost mechanically to follow every movement of Eric’s hand.  

When the ball of blood grew larger and broke into a small stream down Eric’s hand, the vampire moaned with uncontrolled lust and lunged forward. Eric gasped, trying to aim the rifle again, but it was promptly knocked from his good hand. All light from outside had dwindled now, and the vampire stood before him in the moonlight.

“Wait,” Eric cried with a little anxiety when the vampire’s frigid fingers locked onto his wrist, but then he remembered he couldn’t be bitten. The vampire's fingers were textured with large blistering lumps from his injuries, and Eric felt the strange, softened tips of the vampire’s coated teeth as they grazed against his skin. But then the feeling was replaced with an unpleasantly cold, dry tongue on his palm.

Eric wondered if the vampire could hear his heart accelerating as he looked down and watched him lick violently and urgently at his hand. He curved his tongue down all the lines of his skin and even between his fingers; clearly, he didn’t want to miss a drop. This was the perfect opportunity for Eric to kill him—he was weak and exposed, his faded red and blue coat barely tattered lines of fabric across his torso.

But for some reason, Eric didn’t want to kill him. He watched with fascination as the beautiful man dropped to his knees before him, his long fingers still circled around his wrist, and he continued dabbing his tongue pitifully to the dried-up wound. He was probably (no, without a doubt) the most beautiful creature Eric had ever seen in his life, like someone’s piece of artwork come to life.

Killing him almost seemed like a punishment to himself because he’d never get to look at him again.

Eric wondered why the vampire hadn’t savagely torn some animal apart by now just to lap at its blood if nothing else, even if he couldn’t suck it through his teeth like vampires normally did. Maybe he had been doing that, and it still wasn’t enough.

“Please,” the vampire started whimpering frantically, his jaw loosening with the effort it took him to speak. No more blood would spill no matter how he prodded Eric’s skin with his tongue, which was a little warmer now. Eric watched his eyes pause on the small pulsing vein of Eric's wrist, and his pupils contracted with tormented desire. “Please.” His eyelids fluttered, and his brows rose far into his hair. “Please.”

Eric had never heard a voice like it, had never beheld such violent, feral longing in all his life. Knowing how desperate the vampire must be, and knowing how that desperation didn't make one difference because he couldn't possibly get what he wanted without depending on Eric, warmed Eric's body all over.

The sight of it, the sound of it, sent unsettled excitement all throughout his bloodstream. He couldn’t recall a time he’d last felt like this, though all his life he’d wanted to feel like this and had dreamed about, no craved, feeling this alive and powerful.

This beautiful being’s life was literally in his hands. Strapped to him were all the weapons that could end the vampire's life, but his body was also teeming with the one thing that could keep him alive.

Eric took a step backward, and the vampire threw his arms around his thigh, his pleas continuing while Eric’s phone buzzed in his pocket. “Be quiet,” he told the vampire when he saw the call was from Craig. To his surprise, the vampire silenced immediately, freezing in his subservient position with his arms around Eric's leg. Another thrill.

“Eric, it’s been a while,” Craig said. “Are you having trouble? Is it dead?”

Eric glanced down at the vampire, who was looking back at him with large, unblinking, imploring eyes. The tiny dribble of blood he’d consumed had brought the faintest of pink tinges to his cheeks. Like a marble sculpture, he stared with total stillness.

“Uh—” Eric started, the dilemma between the truth and a major lie stalling him for only a moment before he said, “yeah. He’s dead. I told you I had this. Everything’s good.”

“Oh, okay, great. See you soon about the payment.”

Craig was never one for extending phone calls beyond their natural expiration dates, and Eric thanked God for that fact when the conversation came to an immediate close. He turned his focus to the vampire.

“Look, you can’t tell anyone about this,” he ordered. “As far as anyone knows, I killed you. But if you stay here and listen to me, I can help you some." Never mind the long drive, Eric was already telling himself. This was totally worth it. "Do what I say, and I’ll give you more of my blood. Maybe one day I’ll even take that thing off your teeth. If you behave.”

That was all the vampire needed to hear. His head started shaking up and down in rapid, foolish agreement. Eric tested reaching an unsteady hand toward the top of the vampire’s head. His fingers trembled with unbridled exhilaration when he touched the silky-soft locks, much softer and thicker than a human’s.

Instead of withdrawing from him, the gorgeous vampire leaned into the touch, nudging his head closer as if wanting to be petted. Vampires were sexual, needy creatures by nature. Add that to their hunger, and they could be unstoppably salacious. Eric sensed an unusual sweetness to this one, though, even through his rabid desire for blood.

“You’re mine now,” whispered Eric, his eyes never leaving the vampire as he began to craft the lie that he would tell the farm owners. “All mine. Do you understand?” He tugged gently at the hair, and the vampire only lifted his titillating, clouding eyes to meet his.

A feeling returned to Eric then, something he hadn’t experienced since early childhood and thought was long gone—the emotion he’d developed when manipulating his mother into buying him a particularly desired video game, or whenever sliding convenient store candy bars up his sleeves. Secret possession and unconditional control set his body ablaze in ways he’d never been able to explain to anyone, even himself.

Maybe he’d never entirely outgrown breaking the rules.

[allykatsart]

Diamonds

Spades Clubs Hearts Diamonds(Here)

And we're finally here!!!! Today I should be at Fan X so I may not be super responsive, but I hope y'all enjoy it and thanks for sticking with me through the series! This was a fun project and it let me figure out the designs of my characters a lot more! These three aren't actually part of the main cast, but they're important supporting/secondary characters.

Take A Commission Slot!

Heather Winters ~ King of Diamonds

Heather is calls herself Daniel's Father. She makes dad jokes, keeps him out of trouble, and even pays for his housing, which he rents with Cat and April. She's also the head of a very successful company and is the current guardian of the Fountain of Youth.

Heather isn't the best person, though. She tends to hoard knowledge, money and resources that could be used to help others. It can be an obstacle at times but you have to understand where she's coming from.

Heather came from Ancient Greece, and before she was made immortal, she watched the library of Alexandria burn. It traumatized her. When she became immortal, she saw how quickly mortal memories fade. Heather sees herself as an archivist, saving and remembering what humanity cannot. She believes mortals are too hateful and cruel, that they would destroy her lifetimes upon lifetimes of work because it shakes the foundation of what they know.

Celine ~ Queen of Diamonds

Celine is a pagan seer who runs a bar for the supernatural in the city. This wasn't legal when she started, but she didn't care. Unlike Heather, she believes in celebrating and helping the 'Monsters' of the world. She's a part time performer, a part time fortune teller, and a full time owner of the establishment.

Because of this, she's able to provide shelter and safety to those in need. 'Monster Hunters' are not allowed anywhere near her bar. She will kick them out and give the bars nearby a heads up. Celine has done a lot for the 'Monsters' of the world and she's well respected in the supernatural community.

Celine also has OCD, which I've learned a lot more about. For her, it usually gets bad with her visions. A vision will get stuck in her head sometimes, and it will not leave for weeks. She performs rituals with no real purpose other than making her feel safe, and she used to get horrible anxiety when anyone else ran her bar. But, thankfully, she's got people around her, and now knows how to function through her symptoms.

Simon ~ Jack of Diamonds

Simon is Celine's right hand man and has been since she saved him from getting beat up by his old gang. They found he was wearing makeup to hide scars, and had an interest in drag shows. Suffice to say, they weren't kind and would have killed him if it weren't for Celine stepping in. Simon's worked for her ever since.

Simon takes care of his father, who has Alzheimer's, and lives in an apartment above the bar. He's not supernatural himself, but the supernatural community has adopted him as one of their own. He's incredibly loyal to Celine, and cannot be bribed, blackmailed, or threatened. He makes an incredible bouncer, to say the least.

(and yes, he now organizes the drag shows when the bar has them lol)

[useless-catalanfacts]

Was curious if you have any interesting information on L’Hospitalet de Llobregat?

I moved about a year ago, and I am about to sign up for my first Catalan class with the CNL soon. Since I do not speak Catalan yet and have limited Spanish, a lot of information I come across for my new home is not accessible to me.

Thank you in advance, and for you write on here in general. It is a great resource.

Thank you! And best wishes for the course with CNL, I hope you enjoy it!

L'Hospitalet de Llobregat is the 2nd most populated city in Catalonia and has the most densely-populated neighbourhood in all of Europe (Torrassa and Collblanc neighbourhoods). I'll shorten it to L'H from now on.

There's archaeological evidence of population in what nowadays in L'H since the Paleolithic (hunter-gatherer communities in the Prehistory), Ancient Iberian (the indigenous people who lived here before the Roman invasion), and the Roman era.

Ancient Roman head of Medusa known as "Medusa de Provençana", found in an excavation next to the Santa Eulàlia de Provençana church in L'H. Nowadays it's exhibited in the Museu d'Arqueologia de Catalunya, Barcelona.

The origin of the city as we know it now dates back to the Middle Ages. It originated as two entities: the older Provençana (which we have written records of since around the year 900, and was found around Sta Eulàlia de Provençana) and the later Hospital de la Torre Blanca ("Hospital of the White Tower", from around the year 1100, what is now barri del Centre). The second one was a hospital not in our modern sense of a place to take care of the ill, it was a house for helping poor and homeless people, probably founded by the Knights Hospitaller. It grew in population and ended up becoming more important than Provençana, and eventually the name that designated the whole area was changed from Provençana to L'Hospitalet (meaning "The Little Hospital" in Catalan).

But throughout all of these centuries, L'H was a very rural town with a small population (as an example, it had about 900 inhabitants in the year 1815). The population grew when an irrigation canal was built that allowed the fields to be way more productive, reaching 5,000 inhabitants around the year 1900. But the population boom came in the 1960s and 1970s, during the Francoist dictatorship, when many immigrants from different rural parts of Spain moved to the big cities to work in the industry. That's when the areas around Barcelona were quickly built up in these massive apartment blocks to make the "bedroom cities" from where the newly-arrived workers commuted to work every day. The population boom was so huge that it explains why L'H is the 2nd biggest city in Catalonia and so densely populated.

Carrer de la Florida in 1956 vs 2024. (L'H city archive / Google Maps).

Carrer de la Renclusa, 84, in 1955 vs 2024. (L'H city archive / Google Maps).

Carrer de la Mina, 19, in 1956 vs 2024. (L'H city archive / Google Maps).

Avinguda del Torrent, 78, in 1956 vs 2024. (L'H city archive / Google Maps).

These "bedroom cities" had been built so quickly, that they didn't have any services. The inhabitants had to fight for all the services they have, which created a strong sense of pride that still continues nowadays.

As another note, one of the most famous maquis (anti-Francoism guerrilla fighters) was from L'H: Quico Sabaté. You can read about him on Wikipedia here. Another famous person from L'H is Ferran Adrià, one of the most famous chefs in the whole world.

I hope this was interesting, and I hope you can make the most of the Catalan classes, it will surely help you understand the country more and get better perspectives for a job.

[artzychic27]

I just randomly started thinking about the Flinstones

It all takes place in the town of Paristone (And after a couple of millennia, it will soon be known as the city of Paris)

Marinette is a young designer who makes all sorts of pelts and rock accessories and helps out her parents with hunting and gathering

Adrien is the son of the town’s top pelt designer, lives in a fancy rock mansion and is always wearing the latest trend like… Shoes

Alya usually has a stone tablet somewhere on her person, always carving the latest gossip and news with her chisel and putting them on the web… There’s a big spider web where people post their stone tablets

Nino is an excellent shadow puppeteer (Stone age filmmaker) and has an affinity for music using prehistoric birds to come up with new sounds

Chloé is the daughter of of the town’s chief and wears only the most expensive stone and shell jewelry. Also, she probably invented the eye roll

Sabrina’s still her sidekick, usually following Chloé with a stone tablet and chisel, ready to carve her planner

Kim is one of the best young hunters and is usually swimming through the lakes for any fish

Max may or may not have invented the wheel. Anyway, his companion/friend is Markov- a hollowed out stone with an intelligent beetle inside stepping in some sort of black muck and writing out visual responses on leaves that feed through a slot. He might also be working on a written language

Alix invented the skateboard and now that is the only way she wants to get around, ever. It’s new, exciting, and makes walking look stupid

Nathaniel is always sketching on leaves using a stick dipped in ash from burnt out fires and does cave painting commissions. (He accidentally got juice from red berries poured on his hair, and now continues to dye it)

Juleka created hair dye by mixing the juice from red and blue berries (She’s also the first lesbian to ever roam the earth)

Rose has a plushie collection made out of pelts stuffed with mastodon fur

Myléne is what’s know at the time as a veg-a-eat-ian, meaning she doesn’t eat anything that had a face

Ivan’s the same and is oddly eloquent considering they don’t have a written language yet

Marc is a feral kid… I’m not joking, he was raised by some sort of saber toothed animal up until he was five and adopted by his mothers. Until he was seven, he only spoke in snarls and is unbelievably strong

Yeah, I just needed to get this outta my head

[thebrightestlodge]

Two unlikely survivors stake their claims and risk their lives to fight off the Night That'll Never End!

AKA Just the full designs of my two main Bloodborne Hunters. They meet in the shooting gallery that lies before Hemwick Charnel Lane and become (sort of) good friends. Tester appreciates someone who mostly doesn't push him into things too soon and Malverna loves to interrogate him about what he dreams about.

Malverna Discontent - A sociopathic highly intelligent killer with a matching sordid past, Malverna sees the beauty in her newfound freedom in this crumbling city. Man and Beast are felled by her hand and with no petty emotions or empathy to sway her choices, Malverna is in her own wonderland. Currently she tries her best to court the porcelain homunculus of the Hunter's Dream, fascinated by the doll that has set her heart aflutter.

The Gentleman Tester - A dandy from the upper echelon of Old Yharnam who was locked out of his home on the night they burned the city to the ground. Tester wanders the Cathedral Ward, dreading what lurks in dark corners and hating that his skills at hunting are being honed to perfection. He wants nothing more than to find a bed to rest in and wake up from this horrible dream ...

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Billboard project

* * * *

Harris stays "on message" while Trump spirals out of control

September 14, 2024

Robert B. Hubbell

There is a great line in the movie Broadcast News: The protagonist Holly Hunter is complaining to her friend Albert Brooks about the state of her love life. She says, “I am beginning to repel people I'm trying to seduce.”

Although Trump hasn’t entered “Holly Hunter territory” just yet, he is doing his best to get there. You know things are going badly when Marjorie Taylor Greene, Lindsey Graham, and Thom Tillis are begging you to hang out with a better class of friends. All three urged Trump on Friday to ditch well-known bigot and conspiracy theorist Laura Loomer. Loomer did not take the intervention gracefully, responding that Marjorie Taylor Greene is “Like a hooker [who] sells herself to the highest bidder.”

Trump's sudden fixation and joint travel with Laura Loomer caused the always-staid Matt Drudge to run a series of headlines proclaiming:

LOOMER MAGA LOVE!

HAS HE FOUND HIS SOULMATE?

WHERE'S MELANIA?

MTG CALLS DON IN RAGE

CIVIL WAR ESCALATES

CAMPAIGN IN CRISIS

I am not a campaign expert, but none of those headlines seem like the type of coverage that is helpful with 52 days remaining until the election.

As bad as Matt Drudge’s innuendo about Trump's relationship with Loomer is, the worst part of the day came as Trump vowed to send the influx of immigrants in Springfield “back to Venezuela.” [Trump appears to believe Haiti is a city in Venezuela.] Trump also claimed that the Haitian immigrants in Springfield were “destroying the way of life” in the Ohio town, to which JD Vance added that Haitians in Springfield had allegedly increased the level of communicable diseases in the city. If violence is directed at the Haitian community in Springfield, the vilification by Trump and Vance will be the proximate cause.

Florida has between 100,000 to 300,000 Haitian immigrants eligible to vote. See Los Angeles Times, Trump's Haitian immigrant comments stir outrage in Florida. Insulting the Haitian community is hardly a way to motivate turnout for Trump.

It is difficult to imagine a more “off-message” day for Trump and Vance—after an off-message week in an off-message month.

We can’t count on Republicans to beat themselves, but it is helpful to recognize that the GOP campaign is reflecting Trump's personal chaos and disordered personality at a time when Kamala Harris is running a disciplined but energetic campaign.

V.P. Harris held a standing-room-only rally in Pennsylvania on Friday. The video is here: Rally in Pennsylvania with Vice President Kamala Harris. It is worth watching the first few minutes of Harris’s speech. The enthusiasm level of the crowds seems to be increasing over time. (So much for the media’s “honeymoon” theory that claimed the enthusiastic support for Harris was a temporary phenomenon.)

Although Harris varies her speeches to reflect local issues and races, she is sticking to her stump speech—a traditional campaign strategy to ensure that candidates stay “on message.” She is expanding her speech only to add attacks on Trump's latest missteps and most recent outrageous statements—additions frequently delivered with a pointed sense of humor designed to deflate Trump's overblown ego.

[Robert B. Hubbell newsletter]