#Granted; it's more akin to a 'they go somewhere and then there's a body they weren't expecting'

[pureconancommentary]

Hmm... I know that most cases either just. Happen. Coincidentally around this group. Or they're asked to look into something and Conan is usually interested for any number of reasons.

But he didn't seem interested in any of this at all (since it's just a stalker at the moment), and instead Ran's the one who wants to go and just brings him along. Huh. Feels rare.

[yeoja-dream]

Found/Fated/Forever

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: BTS OT7 x Reader Genre: Fantasy, eventual smut, porn with plot, slow burn, hurt/comfort Characters: Supernatural!BTS, Vampire!Jungkook, Supernatural!Reader Content Warning: Y/N in danger Word Count: 3.6k

Jungkook’s vision went white and he felt the air pulled out of his lungs as in a flash, he was again in the hospital room, Namjoon hovered worryingly over your body. He looked up as you arrived, obvious relief relaxing his features as his eyes landed on Baba Yena. 

“Baba Yena,” Namjoon greeted with a bow. “I was only able to do a cursory search, but her kind isn’t listed or documented in any infernal records I was able to get my hands on.” 

“Of course, because she is not from the hells, my child.” Baba Yena said, walking to your bedside, and shooing him away. “She is indeed a rare sight to behold, but you will have to ask her about her heritage, she has taken considerable lengths to conceal it.” 

“So you will save her?” Namjoon asked, hopeful. 

“Yes, horned one. Your mate has sacrificed sufficiently, and this child has suffered greatly as it is. It is not yet her time to die.” Baba Yena said, beginning to pull several black, oily drawing implements as well as a bottle of bright blue, glowing liquid. 

Without much regard for the others standing in the room, Baba Yena began unceremoniously undressing your body, causing both the men in the room to turn their gaze elsewhere. Perhaps in a different time or context, it would be embarrassing, exciting perhaps, but they felt it perverse to see you unclothed in such a state. Fully nude, Baba Yena began using the black, oily, drawing implements to draw intricate symbols all over your body. 

“What are you doing?” Jungkook asked, back still turned. 

“Her body is too weak to house her soul, so it is lost somewhere in the Astral Sea. The water from the Elu Spring in the Fey Wild will heal and strengthen her body. The markings are the spell that will call her soul back to her body.” 

With that, Baba Yena sat you up, popping the cork of the blue liquid, and carefully poured it down your throat. Immediately, your almost grey skin flushes with color, and your rapid, shallow breaths begin to even out. Namjoon watched the monitor carefully, breathing a sigh of relief as your heart rate became stronger and faster too. Baba Yena then closed her eyes, extending her arms out straight, palms down. Her palms began to glow with a bright, white light, and as they glowed, so did the markings on your body. Baba Yena’s face scrunched with concentration. “Come on, child. It is not yet time to go.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You came to, opening your eyes, rubbing them harshly as to clear your blurred vision. You feel yourself to be weightless, immediately, as if floating on water. All around you, horizon to horizon, were breathtakingly vibrant and clear night skies, completely lit up with stars and nebula as far as the eye could see. Below, was a massive and never-ending sea of the purest, molten silver, opaque and mirror-like, the gentle waves that broke the surface capturing the starlight with such luster you wondered for a moment if the water had been made of the cosmos, perhaps from the tears of the other stars, crying for the fallen. 

It didn’t exactly take a scholar to figure out you had found yourself in the Astral Plane, the plane souls found themselves in before continuing onto an afterlife fitting of whomever they worshiped in life. Legend has it that the Astral Sea is what waters the Tree of Life, and drinking from its waters will grant you all knowledge and power akin to a God in your own right. Others said those with enough hubris or guts to try are simply driven stark raving mad, cursed to roam the endless abyss with nothing but the voices in their head to keep them company. Considering that you had yet to hear of a God exalted by this water, you were more inclined to believe the latter. 

How the fuck did I get to the astral realm?  You asked yourself, anxiety and panic prickling at your skin. You combed through your memories, you woke up, got dressed, had breakfast, and… you hit a wall. You try to push forward, but the more you do so, the more your brain shoots with pain. Something or someone was blocking you from remembering something important, and you judged. Whether or not that was simply a symptom of the situation you found yourself in or a direct action taken by someone, you had yet to discern. 

There was at least one thing you knew about the Astral Plane, that in order to travel it, you only had to think, to will yourself in one direction or the other. You started by willing yourself into the vertical, upright position with the sea 10 meters below. What you did not know, however, was how magic functioned in this plane. The first obvious solution was to attempt to plane shift back to your reality, but when you mentally cast your consciousness out looking for laylines to dip into, you couldn’t find any. You willed yourself forward then, continuing the mental search. 

Time in the Astral worked differently than in the prime material plane. There was no day or night, time simply did not pass, so it was impossible to gauge how long you truly spent looking, but you only stopped when your head throbbed from the exertion. Could it be possible that the Astral had no laylines? Or perhaps your magic had been cut off somehow, rendering you blind to any laylines that might exist? If that was the case, had you actually died? The thought raised your blood pressure. 

Without the ability to dip into the magic, you were certainly not plane-shifting out of this shitty situation. You patted yourself down and only now realized that you were entirely without your personal effects, now wearing a rough spin, off-white tunic, brown pants of the same fabric, and a pair of worn leather boots. More importantly, without your stuff, you had returned to your true form. The realization was not helping the actually dead theory. You willed yourself forward, hoping to run into another soul, maybe someone who could help you figure this situation out. 

You floated for what felt like years, decades. You didn’t need to eat or sleep, and with no time reference, the monotony alone would drive anyone mad, you didn’t even need to drink the seawater, you decided. Sometimes you saw people, mostly in the distance, however, and when you’d try to call their attention, they would flee like their lives depended on it. Other times the Sea itself would open up, portals of different shades of light would flash, dropping off newly departed souls, or more often, yanking an older soul into one afterlife or another. No one spoke to one another, and certainly no one spoke to you. That is, until mercifully, you hear your voice called by a friendly male voice behind you. 

“Y/N?” The voice called out. The tone was friendly and definitively male, but there was a quality about the timbre that called out to something deeper and forgotten inside of you. You turned around hesitantly, seeing a tall, human man in his 20s. His hair was curly, his features dark and his skin a tanned olive. There was a familiarity to his look, and as he approached closer, it finally clicked. 

“Fareed?!” You asked with a mixture of shock and surprise. 

“Long time no see!” He said with a friendly wave. 

When you had first escaped from the Fey Wild, Fareed was your first friend as a young child. Fareed was a bubbly but fearless kid whose hobbies appropriately included talking to strangers and jumping off the highest places he could find. He often slipped extra portions of his lunch out of the house, but you always suspected his mom knew and was giving him too much food deliberately. His fearlessness got him taken away far too young, and when our country began conscripting soldiers for some war in some faraway land, he was the first to volunteer. We received news of his passing only one month later. 

To see him in his current state, alive, well, and sane choked you up and you found yourself fighting back tears. 

“It’s Y/N! I must look considerably different now than when you last saw me.” You said gesturing to your true self. “Why are you still here?” You asked. Fareed had died at least 200 years ago, and you had always hoped that he was living it up in some cushy afterlife. 

“I could recognize your energy from across all the planes.” He said with a light laugh. “The Astral has guardians and protectors like any other plane,” He explained. “I dedicated my afterlife to guiding and protecting the lost souls that wander here, and when it is time for them to pass on, I help them find that passage.”

“That sounds like an incredibly noble cause and absolutely something you would do,” You said with a laugh. 

“Speaking of which,” He began, “I have gotten a sudden influx of souls complaining about a weird, noisy soul wandering around, harassing folks. Which, in turn, leads me to you. What are you doing here, you don’t seem dead?” He asked. 

“About that,” you sighed “I woke up here and I can’t remember how or why I got here, and I would have simply teleported back but I can’t seem to use my magic.” 

“That is strange, considering that the Astral Plane is incredibly magically potent, equally if not more so than the Fey Wild.” He stated. “Come here and let me touch your forehead, let me see if I can’t get this sorted for you.” 

You willed yourself closer to him, and in response, he stuck his hand out, fingers tented, and placed them on your forehead. You feel nothing, but you watch Fareed’s eyes dart around rapidly, making negative vocalizations. After a moment, he drops his hand and focuses his vision back on you. 

“Life certainly hasn’t been very kind to you, Y/N, and for that, I want to express my condolences.” 

“Fareed the years have made you so well-spoken!” You exclaim with a laugh. “Thank you.” You said, more seriously. 

“You have a powerful curse on you, but I think you already knew that. It is strange but refreshing to see your true form.” He stated. You nodded in confirmation as he continued, “You are not dead. You almost died. That is how you ended up here. Someone extremely powerful wanted you to forget what happened to you, so they blocked your memory and your magic. Fortunately, I am also someone extremely powerful and I was able to remove the block, but not the curse on you as a whole. That is a complicated and difficult endeavor not even I can do.” 

With that information, you think back again, this time with crystal clear acuity. You remember the club, rescuing the woman, meeting Jungkook, his preposition. You remember being in his embrace, heat and lust and euphoria taking over every one of your senses, you remember begging him not to stop despite fading away slowly, and then darkness. 

“I think I have a soulmate, Fareed.” You breathed. 

“I am inclined to agree. All things do.” 

“He has mates already though, 6 of them!” You exclaimed. 

“Then you also have 6 additional mates,” Fareed said matter of factly. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t even know those people.” 

Fareed cocked an eyebrow at you. “Y/N, do you know how soulmates work?” 

“Love and magic and shit, no?” You asked with a shrug. 

“Not quite,” Fareed explained. “Souls as most people like to refer to them are actually called Fragments. They are the broken-up pieces of Soulias. When the gods created all sentient living things, they made a center of power, into which they put all knowledge, power, emotion, experience, and condition, and they named that power center Soulia. The problem occurred when the gods tried to plant these Soulias into vessels, the power would overwhelm the vessel and tear it apart, and the ones strong enough to withstand were monstrous creatures of pain, chaos, and violence. The Gods decided to fracture the Soulias. The larger Fragments would go into the vessels they were creating, and the smaller Shards, remnants of the fracturing process, would go into all other living creatures. Fracturing also ensured that no two vessels would live an identical life and that only true harmony could be attained when you shared your piece, your life, your soul, with others around you. It was usually convenient to break the Soulia into two, so often you will see soul mates in pairs of two. But for larger Soulias, smaller Fragments are needed, so it is broken up into smaller pieces, so soulmate groups of more than two are certainly possible. The Soulia inside the vessel will spend its whole life pining after its other pieces. Many people never find their true other half, but a good deal will find love nonetheless and find satisfaction in that. Many here found their Shards in life inside beloved plants and animals.” 

“I never knew all that,” You stared at him mouth agape. “So my soul, fragment, fits in with all of theirs?” You ask, gripping at your chest. 

“Precisely.”

“What happens when all the parts of a Soulia are bought together?” You asked. 

“Well, as I said before, the fracturing process is extremely imperfect, and in the creation of Fragments, a great number of shards are also produced, so getting every part of a Soulia back together is practically impossible. You can, however, tie the pieces together somewhat, bonding or mating as you likely know it, which affords all persons a metaphysical line to one another. Through that line, you can pick up on how your partner is feeling, you can send short messages or emotional sentiments. If they allow you in, you can enter their mind, they can share memories with you as they saw them, and they can allow you to feel exactly how they feel, understand how they actually think. It is a powerful connection, and allows for deeper intimacy and connection possible by other non-soulmate or non-bonded pairs.”

“That sounds… intrusive.” You mumble, arms crossed. 

“It can be, but everything is done with the consent of both parties. You can ignore the call of your mate down the bond, even after you’ve let them in you can push them out of your mind at any time, and you can block anyone from entering. Just takes a little practice.” 

You frown at that, “It sounds like you are selling it to me.” 

“I guess you could say that I am. You seem upset, why? Most people are delighted to meet a soulmate.” 

“I’m mad that my soulmate almost killed me, I’m mad that I have a soulmate, I’m mad that I have 7 soul mates. I’m mad that I’ve lived the last 50 years of my life in relative solitude because I was sick and tired of getting fucked over and suddenly 7 of potentially the deepest and most intimate connections a living thing can experience is dropped onto my lap so yeah, color me upset! I can’t do loss anymore, Fareed. It’s too painful.” 

He looked you up and down, contemplatively. “If I may, one old friend to another?” 

You nod in response. 

“Look around and tell me what you see.” He said, making a wide sweeping gesture. 

“I see endless and endless nothing dotted with lonely, lost souls, hoping that someday they’ll be called to something better.” 

“Time may not pass in the Astral, but what I quickly learned is that this is the summation of a human life, Y/N. They live, and most days are bleak, boring, and mundane. Occasionally, another lonely soul will cross their path, and for a time, they find comfort in one another. Ultimately, they part, and at the end of it all, they pass on hoping that whatever next is someplace better, and yet for many this is what they have to look forward to.” 

“I’m not sure I understand what you are getting at, Fareed.” 

“You have lived a long, brilliant life Y/N, many times longer than many of the souls that wander here. You have suffered more than much more than many of these souls, but you have been gifted the chance to love and be loved much more than many of these souls. So go, Y/N. Set yourself free from grief, worry, and suspicion. Do not shy away from love for fear of pain, love despite it, and love fiercely and unapologetically. When you are called to join us here again, come with joy in your heart from a life fearlessly spent, or be doomed to eternity searching the silver sea for your salvation. You are your own salvation.” 

You pursed your lips tightly, looking down at the Astral Sea as you processed his words. 

“It isn’t that easy,” You began, your voice wavering. 

“For you, it won’t be,” He admitted. “It is true some come into this world full of light and for whom trust and love come easy. But for those who have been hurt as you have, it is going to be hard. Just because things are hard doesn’t mean they aren’t worth doing or that they are bad for us.” 

“You know what I am, what I am made of. You see the ticking bomb I am, and yet you insist I allow people to get close to me to what... hurt as many as I can? I will never be free, Fareed. They will chase me to the ends of time and take from me what they feel they are owed. We both know that.” You finish your rant, a single tear running down your cheek. As you do so, a bright white portal opens on the top of the Astral Sea, slowly dragging you closer and closer to its event horizon. 

“It seems our time together has run out,” Fareed said. “If you would allow me to leave you with a parting thought before you go. The only memories they blocked from you were of him. They wanted you to forget him so desperately they blocked your magic essentially confining you to a realm where they would never be able to touch you again. That is worth considering.” 

As your feet began to hit the portal, Fareed grabbed your hand holding it close. 

“Make the world tremble at you, Y/N. I don’t want to see you here for a long, long time. Good luck-” The end of the word was clipped as your vision went white, your hearing went silent, and like you were being flushed down a toilet, you felt yourself being yanked at lightning speed by your feet, and suddenly everything was again dark. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Baba Yena pulled up her arms suddenly, and in response, your body involuntarily arched. When doing so, you let out a sudden, loud gasp, causing all present to breathe a small sigh of relief to themselves too. 

“The child was very deep, so it took me a while to find her.” Baba Yena said, redressing you in a spare hospital bed and tucking you in gently. “Both of you,” She said, turning to the men who had huddled together for comfort during the spell. “Kneel.” 

They looked at each other, but rather than piss off a supremely powerful being who just did you a massive favor, the pair concede, sinking to the floor on their knees. Once in position, Baba Yena approached the pair. While kneeling, Baba Yena was at eye level with the boys. She approached Jungkook first. 

Thwack!  She cracked him across the skull with a walking cane. “What are you doing bleeding girls dry like you're some poor changling with no control of their thirst? You are over 200 years old, act your age! You had no business testing out a connection you had no idea if you could control without supervision.” Baba Yena scolded him thoroughly. 

“And you,”  Thwack!  This time she cracked Namjoon over the skull with the cane. “What the hell kind of doctor are you? You were in such a rush to do nothing you didn’t stop to see the blinding, gold amulet that she wears? The very same type you and several of your mates wear? If he almost killed her, you were signing the death certificate with your negligence ink. You ought to be ashamed.” She finished, brushing nothing off her petticoat, and gathering her things to leave. 

“She will wake in 3 days fully rested and back to full health. There will come a time when she has questions about herself, and when she does, find me. Until then, leave me alone. You kids have caused me enough trouble as it is. Oh and, be careful with that one. She has been through enough.” And with that, she flourishes the very same cane, vanishing. 

The silence that hangs in the air after Baba Yena leaves is long and heavy, but mixed with relief as the pair approach both sides of your bed, staring at your sleeping form. It was amazing how starkly opposite you looked now to even just an hour before, knocking on death’s door. 

“I think you have a lot of explaining to do, Kook.”

“Later,” The younger one pleaded. “I just want to sit here for a little while.” 

“Later.” Namjoon agreed, excusing himself. Not but 20 minutes later, he found himself back in the room, second chair and laptop in hand. Jungkook was too guilt-ridden to say it, but he was immensely grateful for the company. He hoped you were too. 

_____________________________________________ Tags @luvlykyy ---------------------------------------------------------- Big lore dump this chapter! Some of you may be noticing some inspiration from DnD to lend me some framework for world-building! That is absolutely true, but as I also mentioned I have been using it as a framework, and as such it may or may not veer violently off the Forgotten Realms cannon, so don't get too twisted about "Hey, that's not how that thing works!" It's just a work of fiction I'm writing for funsies at the end of the day so don't take it too seriously. I hope you are all enjoying~

[gatorbites-imagines]

Do you take omegaverse requests? If so, I'd like to request Moon Knight system/male beta reader, where Moon Knight's dynamic/scent changes based on whether it's Marc, Steven, or Jake in control of the body

Steven Grant, Marc Spector, and Jake Lockley x beta male reader

Headcanons

This is inspired a lot by my kinktober omegaverse prompt, so if things are similar, that’s probably why.

To keep things fun, let’s say Steven is an omega, Marc is a beta, and Jake is an alpha. You, being a beta, isn’t really affected by any of the changes in their scents and behavior for the most part.

Betas aren’t as troubled by scents, and doesn’t go into heat or rut. This doesn’t mean you don’t have a scent, or that you aren’t able to pick up your lovers’ scents and the changes in them. It just means you don’t get driven up a wall when Steven smells a little too sweet, or Jake gets a little too growly.

You can always tell who’s fronting depending on their scent. The base scent is the same, but Stevens has a sweeter tinge to it, mixed with books and the tea he loves the most.

Marcs scent is more neutral because of his beta status, but it still has his own personal touch to it, like his favorite gun oil, or his favorite drink or savory dish.

Jake, being an alpha, his scent has a deeper tinge, something akin to musk or something a little wilder, especially if he’s feeling agitated. He always has a slight metallic tinge to his scent, mixed with high quality leather.

You have your own scent too, something more neutral than Marcs as your scent doesn’t change as regularly as theirs do, something inoffensive, meaning it goes well with all three of their scents.

Theres regularly a muskier tinge to your scent from Jake scenting you or nibbling on your scent gland, be it on your neck or your wrist. He’s an alpha, and marking you as theirs always puts them all at ease, but Jake more than the other two.

You guys probably need more than one bedroom, mainly so Steven has a place to build a nest for whenever he needs it. He makes sure to stock it with things for the other two, in case they need somewhere to just relax and be away from the world.

I can imagine Steven fronting, only to take them to the nest and get comfortable, and then shove whoever needs the comfort to the front so they can take a well-deserved break in the nest.

Because their secondary natures are different in all three, their needs are a little all over the place for example, Steven wants you to leave bitemarks all over his neck and wrists. Marc is indifferent about it for the most part, but Jake is left antsy and is gonna leave larger and deeper bites on you for dominance reasons.

Not that you mind Jake biting you, Marc and Steven always wince a little at the number of bites littering your skin sometimes though. You know that it’s a way for Jake to show you that he loves you, so you don’t mind.

Steven will want to wear your scent, and so will Marc to an extent, but Jake wants you to wear his scent. It ends up with them wearing something you scented, as you wear something with Jakes, or their combined scents on.

Omega’s purr, Betas chuff, and Alphas rumble, so its always a little funny when they switch whenever you guys are cuddling. Because it’ll go from Stevens high pitched purr to Marcs softer chuffing, to Jakes deeper rumble.

They were probably scared in the beginning that you would leave them because of their situation, so when you accepted them with open arms, they were so relieved. It helped somewhat that you were a beta and didn’t feel more drawn to one partner over the other based on biology too.

Heats and Ruts were a little confusing in the beginning, since it was mostly Jake and Steven fronting during that time, their needs and scents clashing like crazy.

One moment Steven would be laying on his back and barring his neck, whimpering and whining for you to bite him and mark him. The next Jake would be rolling you onto your stomach and clamping his teeth down on the scruff of your neck as he snorts and growls.

When Marc fronts during heats and ruts he’s just uncomfortable and sweaty. He typically takes care of their needs, like showers, drinking water and eating. You guys just always end up cuddling and watching a movie or documentary on some streaming service.

You use the time with Marc to catch your breath, since you aren’t an omega or alpha, meaning it’s a little hard to keep up with your partners ever switching needs. But you guys make do, and they all love you very much for doing so.

When you guys become bonded, you’ll end up with three mating bites, one from each of them. From Jake its on the back of your neck, right where he scruffs you when in a rut. Marc bites it over your scent gland on the side of your neck, intertwining his beta scent with yours. Steven bites his on the other side of your neck, just below your scent gland in a more submissive area.

They’ll end up with three bites on their body too, one for each of them. Jakes bite is under their scent gland for the same reason Steven left his there on you. Stevens is right on top of their scent gland, and Marcs is the area between the neck and the muscle, below the scent gland since that one is bitten for Steven.

The start of the relationship is a little confusion, but after some trial and error, you guys figure it out well, and you are all happy with it all. Your biggest challenge is probably their heat and rut combo, but after a while you figure it out to a science.

[sharkrocket]

THE SUPER SCUFFED THANATICA LABS MODERN AU

There is so much groundwork that me and my partner failed to cover/did not think about, but I think we're going to just lay out what we have and just build upon it as more solid ideas come to fruition, so here we go

THANATICA LABS

Research corporation funded by the Powers That Be(?)

Dedicated to defeating death by prolonging life

Akin to Black Mesa or Aperture Science - Unethical experimentation going on behind the scenes

-----

DANIIL DANKOVSKY

Maybe not the founder? Maybe lead researcher?

Maybe founded it when it was a small lab and was bought out by The Powers to greatly expand funding?

Not exactly on the level - HAS done and WILL do shady things again

KNOWS what he's doing is illegal to some extent, but he tries to wash his hands of the dirty work (alleviate some guilt maybe?)

Hands the recruiters a list of requirements for his new hires (potential lab rats), lets them do the searching and he'll conduct the interviews

I have no idea what these requirements are

Sometimes the lab assistants go missing, he doesn't know anything about that, don't ask him

He LIKES his designers clothes - SOMETIMES it comes from Thanatica's grant money, SOMETIMES it's a few hundred here or there, BIG DEAL

-----

ARTEMY BURAKH

Studied in the Capital or IS studying in the Capital, and is in SO SO SO much debt

Is having trouble getting work because nobody is going to hire a surgeon with no ACCREDITED experience (cutting up bodies in your dad's unlicensed clinic does not count)

Looking to expand the medical practices of his provincial studies(?)

Maybe father has an illness(?) Perhaps Isidor suffering some kind of debilitating disease called the sand pest?

Was contacted by Thanatica Labs for a low level Lab Assistant position - It's Thanatica Labs, of course he's going to respond, that's a lot of money for an entry position, and he's going to have his name attached to a prestigious establishment

He's hired - Is under the pretense he can save up some money, maybe get some lab experience to eventually propose his own research somewhere else

Alternatively, went to university, left university to go home to tend to family business, came back to the Capital to resume studies and is looking for ways to expand his thesis?

Keeps his head down and minds his own business, the less he's under the eye of the lead scientist, the better

Doesn't mean he isn't talking to people and keeping a watchful eye - things are happening that aren't adding up, and it isn't just the grant money

Because he's so desperate for a job, it may mean he's more agreeable to participate in some of Thanatica's shady dealings

-----

THEIR RELATIONSHIP

This is so stupidly long, continued under cut

Daniil interviews Artemy and is so rude and condescending about it

Artemy is either biting back insults or being too sassy for his own good

Artemy gets the job either way, but it's VERY funny to imagine that Artemy failed the interview UNCONDITIONALLY, but was hired anyway under the pretense that Daniil didn't expect him to stick around for very long

"He's so handsome, shame that he's such a dick"

"He's so handsome, shame that he'll be medically indisposed for the sake of research"

Artemy figures out Thanatica is doing illegal experimentation but somehow despite this, it sort of falls in line with what Artemy is hoping to accomplish with his own studies (untested and unproven methods of healing that haven't been approved by any board)

Artemy decides to do his own experimentation behind Daniil's back

Daniil smells something suspicious, equipment and samples are missing (its his lab, he WILL get to the bottom of this)

He's been watching the new hire closely (assessing his potential for experimentation), eventually finds out that he's been performing experiments of his own with methods he's never seen before

Wants to put him under a microscope (literal) --> Wants to put him under a microscope (figurative)

Their confrontation can go a couple ways

Daniil approaches Artemy and offers him the resources to continue his work in exchange for doing some underhanded deeds to progress Daniil's own research

OR Artemy blackmails Daniil with the evidence he's gathered in exchange for resources - Daniil is largely unfazed by this, but sees Artemy's morals aren't exactly on the level either and he finds him very interesting so he allows him his resources in exchange for dirty work

Laughing at the idea that Daniil finds out that Artemy has no accredited experience and he lied on his resume to get an interview - Now he's even MORE desirable for underhanded work (thank you inkpot-demigod)

This would be the point Artemy is bagging bodies

Starts off with superficial antagonistic attraction (purely on looks, otherwise has disrespect for each other, condescending and rude) --> eventually develops into mutual respect for each other's work (cordial, maybe even friendly, "oh god why do they keep looking at each other like that") --> eventually develops into unprofessional workplace relationship (they are fucking in places where they definitely have no business doing so)

-----

"can we have artemy need a place to stay and daniil offers a space in his apartment and artemy packs him lunches to take to work. daniil thinks he's being subtle but just the fact he's eating lunch... all of his coworkers Know"

At some point during the relationship (most likely early on) Artemy mentions that his lease is ending and he's going to need to spend time looking for an apartment (or suggests that he needs to find a roommate to save some money because BOY DOES HE NEED IT)

Daniil IMMEDIATELY blurts out that he has space in his apartment (HE IS NOT JEALOUS, THIS IS JUST THE MOST ECONOMIC AND REASONABLE CHOICE, HE IS THE LEAD RESEARCHER AND HE CAN AFFORD A NICE SPACIOUS PLACE THAT HAPPENS TO ACCOMMODATE TWO)

It's closer proximity to the lab

They can keep discussing things in the privacy of his home

Not that Daniil NEEDS to save money, but having some extra is a plus

Artemy makes meals, food just APPEARS and Daniil never has to think about it

Co-workers are noticing that Daniil is ACTUALLY bringing lunches and eating food, hmmm very suspicious.....

Eva (lab receptionist, more on this later) notices the two of them coming into work at the same time in alarming frequency both carrying lunches and she's like SUSPICIOUS EYEZOOM

-----

"if the kids are involved with this i think it'd be kind of funny if daniil and artemy are desperately trying to hide the fact that they kill people but the kids definitely know that they kill people"

Not sure if they can live in Daniil's apartment if Artemy and Daniil have a living arrangement - Could be frequent visitors if Artemy is living there

Not sure about their relation to Artemy - would love to have him be uncle to his brother's adopted kids but this might get complicated

The kids are savvy enough to know about fucked up corporations, they are doing some MURDER in there

"Are you a mad scientist?"

"No pumpkin, I do very important research to extend the human lifespan"

"Oh…. That means people are dying in there right?"

"……."

-----

"i'm having a vision of daniil wanting to properly court artemy after a few trysts but he doesn't communicate this very well and he also has very little experience with this so he invites him to a fancy dinner or maybe even a gala and artemy is clearly out of his element the whole time and daniil is trying to make this work and its NOT... if anything artemy thinks daniil is trying to pull some power move on him AND THEN. at the end of the evening when daniil is trying to charmingly flirt and do a kiss, artemy is just like. what are you DOING and they do at least SOME communicating. its a START. this au is a murder romcom"

Daniil coming to terms with the fact that he's so gay for the new hire, oh god he's so gay, who allowed Artemy to be so handsome AND intelligent AND clever AND funny what the hell

He keeps looking in Artemy's direction and Temy thinks he's scrutinizing his work, but god knows Daniil needs to get ahold of himself

He has an idea: Invite Artemy to the next charity gala, show him off to some higher ups, thus giving him the opportunity to sing his praises, and Artemy should get the idea, then later in the night have some drinks and who knows

Daniil extends the invite to Artemy, Temy thinks he's getting some kind of promotion, so he agrees

The event is way bigger and way fancier than Artemy was anticipating, Daniil is showing him off to a lot of executives and Temy is trying to hold his own here - If this is some kind of test, he's going to wring Daniil's neck

"Why is Daniil being so flattering, is he making fun of me"

The two are finally alone and Daniil is sitting where his leg is bumping into Artemy's, he has his hand on Temy's thigh and he's leaning in so, so, so close and Temy panics - Not that he doesn't have his share of attraction to his boss but what is he getting at here? Some kinda power move? A cruel test? Blackmail?

They have been misreading each other this entire time and the both of them are UNBELIEVABLY embarrassed

Time to talk things out and admit some things to each other

-----

SOME LOOSE MUSINGS ABOUT OTHER CHARACTERS

Eva Yan

Receptionist at Thanatica, maybe specifically for Daniil's office/lab whatever

The only thing that matters is that she always sees Daniil and Artemy going in and out of the place

Privy to a lot of gossip and goings-on of the place, knows about some of the shadier stuff but she's far from put-off

In fact, she wants to be Daniil's next experiment and he is not having it

Dresses like "I have to go to the office but I'm going to a music festival at 6" boho chic

Yulia Lyuricheva

Works for the government helping to orchestrate shady evil things but she's not actively invested in being evil this is just a job where she can apply her mathematical genius

Eva of course goes on about wanting to be an experiment and neither Eva's enthusiasm nor the fact that Thanatica is so shady is surprising to her

Clara

She doesn't have to be here but if she is here than she runs around Thanatica like a rat and no one knows where she came from

She claims to be an experiment gone wrong but really she is just a girl in need of some caring parental figures in her life

Lara Ravel

In the city on a revenge mission to kill Alexander Block for the death of her father

DANIIL AND LARA MURDER SPREE WHEEEEEEE LET THEM HAVE IT I WANT IT

I have no idea how to make this happen

Block

Thanatica is not surviving this one Dankovsky oooooo it is not surviving

Head of the military operation to destroy all evidence related to Thanatica's experiments?

Roles of other characters unclear..... To be determined....

THANK YOU FOR READING THIS TEXT DUMP, MORE TO BE ADDED IF WE THINK OF IT

[alyakthedorklord]

Ectoplasm = The Primordial Soup

I have Thoughts/Headcanons about the Infinite Realms I want to put down somewhere

The concept of Infinity is really really interesting on a metaphysical sense and to have a REALM titled after it? I want to know MORE. What is it? Is it purgatory? An end? A beginning? A funhouse mirror? Or all these possibilities in one, as it is truly Infinite?

Fanon-wise, especially in crossovers, the ghost zone/infinite realms is a truly infinite realm that connects to every universe out there. It serves as the Main Realm of the Dead, the sea in which all the other realms of the dead are floating in, right? When Danny is written as the King of this Realm, he is often placed at the top of the chain of command, above hades/hell/whatever demon or deity the author sees fit. The crown and ring literally grant (quoted from the show) “infinite power,” so Ghost King Danny is OP for a Canon Reason.

We are also using the fact that its a ghosts obsession that keeps them on that plane. Its their obsession that powers them, they are so attached to this one thing that the ectoplasm around them forms into what they want. Aka, power of belief. Belief is what makes the ghosts exist, and the concepts exist, and as we often see in writing, the many religions that the realms of the dead belong to.

(Edit: We see this in the wide array of personalized powers each ghost has, in thier wildly different appearances, every haunt and island tailored to them.)

With all these powers gathered in one place, what is the REASON that the infinite realms is as it is?

What if the infinite realms, and ectoplasm itself, is the primordial soup? What if every universe is formed first from a being of the infinite realms? What if the beings that created those worlds are just… primordial ecto entities. Playing in the sand. Over time growing in strength and detail until they became Gods of their own worlds, seperate from the infinite realms even as these worlds were born from it? All that remains are doors into their dollhouses, windows into their dreams, and the belief of the souls they made came back through and made more gods, more spirits. Souls come through those doors, back into the cycle.

This would explain why Danny Phantom Ghosts are different from traditional/normal ghosts in whatever crossover your using. Because they are ghosts, but they’re more akin to itty bitty primordial spirits.

The rivers of the dead, the Styx, the Nile, souls they travel back through the infinite realms before reentering the cycle or dropping off at thier final destination. But sometimes, as a soul is traveling, and their connection to something is strong enough, and their will is strong enough, they catch hold of primordial soup/ectoplasm, create a body of it, and escape the cycle of Life and Death. They become mini gods of their own obsession.

This ALSO explains ghost king by right of conquest and the head canon that ghosts bond by fighting! Not only are they basically indestructible, but the power of your will and strength of your character is a DIRECT link to how powerful you become. Winning in a fight demonstrates your stronger connection to the fabric of reality and your hold on your own existence. The flavor of that connection really helps Ghosts figure each other out.

Also, to become an Infinite Realms Ghost you have to be the kind of stubborn bastard who looks at the fabric of reality itself and goes “Actually? You work for ME now. Lets go.” They are all confrontational assholes.

The primordials don’t explain Shit to the tiny spirits so they go, “ah. I ghost. This is Ghost zone. This is normal afterlife.” And they don’t know that this is a place of creation, because all they know is that this is a place of death. But they make islands and lairs and domains of which they control, thier own Miniature World they are god of. They collect weaker spirits, who fit thier aesthetic and fill out their worlds. (Uniform/crowd ghosts often band together to form a group identity, acting as a support system for those who might fade easier. And definitely not Ease of Animation. Im putting lore here, yep. Main Character Syndrome is a Health Benefit/Status symbol in the infinite realms.

Anyways, eventually the secret of what exactly the infinite realms are is hidden away.

But as King, and Ancient of Space…

Danny is in charge of organizing all these universes. These galaxies, these tiny works of art.

He is so excited for when he’s old enough to make his own.

Im sure ill be editing this when I have energy for anything other than a stream of consciousness.

[the-s1lly-corner]

alright, so i completely understand if you don't wanna do this since you have been getting a lot of tadc requests, so feel free to leave this in your inbox for a while but its worth a shot i guess.

tadc x angel reader? but im not talking about the cute and adoring ones, moresore the bibical angel type. kind of like principalities angels if you know what that is. scary stuff.

thanks for all that you do btw, i love your writing and as a fanfiction writer myself im amazed at how quickly your able to pump out requests

thanks for reading

TADC cast x angel!reader !

took me a hot minute to find it but someone asked for the same/very similar request for zooble so!! that post is going to be linked in place of their segment! yahoo! uhuhuhuh!! admin must admit, he does not know much about actual angel lore so hes gonna be real loose with this </3 aaaand to the last part!! its the silliness... i cant contain it... sobs...

CAINE:

now i dont know what kind of personality the reader has, but imagine your wings stick out and fluff up when he decides hes bold enough to compliment, or even flirt with you... has probably led to him getting smacked by your wings and being sent flying... the price of being small, sadly... though he did kind of have it coming for standing where he was/j

sometimes, you guys fly together, since caine very rarely walks around on the ground and kind of just glides around... its nice having someone who can accompany him around... doesnt think your intimidating, if anything he thinks you look interesting... hes probably unphased by most of the forms circus members may take, though its rare you get someone who does look unsettling... shrugs

POMNI:

honestly probably a little intimidated, and perhaps even unnerved in the beginning. like not in the "im deeply uncomfortable" way but more like "oh. so thats a thing" if that makes sense? does try to be nice and kind to you, though, since she does understand that this isnt what you really look like and you cant really... control it... probably has sneezed from the feathers of your wings, if you have any.. in fact you might have accidentally smacked her with them, since shes so small.. you didnt mean to..! honest! caine and pomni just got cursed with the shortness... no thoughts, only angel reader protectively shielding someone with their wings, this can apply to any of the characters... probably one of my favorite tropes for characters with large wings tbh

RAGATHA:

if you can swap out your clothes or have clothes that are detachable (since clothes are canonically stuck to the bodies) shes definitely going to make you some clothing that you can easily slip over your wings, and still have them out! plus spending time with you making the measurements and trying out patterns and fabric is nice! thinks your wings are soft... probably a little put off by your appearance and vibe at first, but ragatha being ragatha shes not going to let it bother her for long, and she makes sure youre welcomed to the circus with open arms... i mean its not like you have a choice to leave... may as well be as inviting as possible..!

JAX:

drum roll please! its the admins favorite jax headcannon that always rears its head in whenever the admin writes a reader who has some extra body part or fluff or accessories or a combination! the fidget/fiddle headcannon! this man is likely going to stroke and mess with your wings, a lot. congrats, youre his new fidget toy/j. has probably accidentally, or perhaps no so accidentally, pulled a feather out. granted im not sure how much it would hurt, i think it would be akin to plucking hair with a tweezer, but the point still stands..! has probably asked you to fly him up somewhere... totally not so he can do some mischief... probably doesnt know much about angels (like the admin LMAO) and probably labels you as like. sterotypical cartoon angel personality (forgiving, kind, good, ect. basically everything that isnt jax/j) but whether or not thats true its up to you... though it would be a little funny for the person who looks like an angel being a trickster... shrugs

KINGER:

FEAR!!! okay... well i think thats a given when theres a new circus member around, since kinger is a little... eh... you know? probably takes some time to warm up to you, but given how he speaks to pomni in the pilot within the first few minutes of her being there, i dont think it would take long for him to approach you. definitely polite, probably even more so thanks to your angelic appearance. mmngh.. soft feathers... shares the jax fidget headcannon with the silly chess piece... bonus if you actually are really kind and protective, this man would be hovering around you since you kind of represent comfort to him... thinks...

ZOOBLE:

right here!

GANGLE:

while most of the others are a little intimidated i think gangle actually likes the aesthetics of angels. maybe thats just the artist in her; like every artist ive met either has a soft spot for angel or demon characters... sometimes both.. admins no exception, its like. mandatory artist trait/j

i had a winged reader request somewhere, where gangle puts the readers fallen feathers into art work and gifts it to them. kind of like how people used to put the hair of their loved ones in jewelry... i think that would also apply to an angel reader! similar to kinger, if youre protective shes going to gravitate towards you... given that shes made of ribbon and fragile... and because of SOOOOOMEONE (glares at jax)... very nice dynamic/relationship material here, me thinks

[seekers-who-are-lovers]

What a fool

Using the @flashfictionfridayofficial’s prompt #FFF257 Count the days, I have written Wakamiya/Nazukihiko’s POV of the terrace scene. Thank you Flash Fiction Friday for this opportunity.

Fandom: Yatagarasu: The Raven Does Not Choose Its Master

Characters: Wakamiya/Nazukihiko, Yukiya, mention of Lady Azusa and Shiratama

Word count: 919

Warning: if you haven’t seen the 10th episode let me tell you that there are a couple of spoilers ahead.

LIKE everything else, Wakamiya could sense it when someone was in the Main Shrine. The palace had become a part of him akin to a heartbeat that he knew it at once if there was an intruding presence.

Carefully treading the wooden steps to the rooftop terrace, he caught a glimpse of a figure wearing a sky-blue kimono lounging on the railing. The way it leaned on the bamboo terrace was familiar. It still surprised him that Yukiya willingly went up there without any qualms. Something bothered the boy.

“Yukiya,” the prince softly called his attendant’s name lest the pubescent would think of jumping to the ground and injuring himself in the process.

“Your Highness?!” Yukiya’s big midnight blue eyes shone in the pale moonlight. They fascinated him.

“Did I startle you?”

“You did and I was ready to run away!”

Wakamiya did not know why but he found the statement so funny that he let out a half-suppressed laugh. He knew the many times Yukiya would love to hit him in the face. Too bad for the boy because he knew how to defend himself.

There was brief silence between them when he remembered Lady Azusa’s letter of request if he could give Yukiya a few days off to celebrate his 14th birthday coinciding with the Lunar Festival.

One of the princesses, Shitarama, Yukiya’s cousin, turned 14 when she arrived at the Sakura Blossom Palace to join the rite. However, it was strange to refer to Yukiya as a mere child when his cousin was already regarded as a woman when their birthdays were only a few months apart. Unbeknownst to everyone, the girl already had a lover back home.

“Cannot sleep? Is everything all right?” This was unusual. Staying up late was not on Yukiya’s routine since he started working for him.

“My mother asked me to visit them for the moon-viewing in a fortnight.”

Ah. Of course, the only thing he must do is ask me. Or better yet, tell me in my face that he is going to visit them without expecting if I would give my assent or not. Why is he so reluctant?

“It is also your 14th birthday. It is only proper to grant the Lady Azusa’s request even if it means you are going to leave me for a few days.”

He could not help giving off that sadness on his voice which made Yukiya turn to him.

“Your Highness?”

The prince shook his head. At the age of 14 he was somewhere else away from Yamauchi because every day he had to be mindful of his life not to be in danger. Once when the Empress called his audience, a few minutes seated before her, he sensed the numbness on his fingers and toes, was sweating and could not stand up. Breathing became laborious. He asked to be dismissed at once. When Natsuka found him in his bedchamber, he noticed that his little brother did not look well.

The cause of it all was the karon incense that the Empress was so fond of. Calming at first, but deadly with the large doses if the human body was not used to it. For years, he developed ways to withstand the sedative effect of the incense that could only be imported from the Southern Territory.

Yukiya then looked at him with the pain in his eyes that the Crown Prince could not discern if it was pity or affection.

“You need me,” the boy said. For now, there was a change on Yukiya’s vocal cords. A slight one, nonetheless. His physique gained a bit of muscle mass as his sparring with Sumio became more intense wanting to know if there was anything else to improve. He observed the boy practise every day, who never shied away from what he was capable of. He knew that if another attempt again would ever happen, he could rely on Yukiya to defend him or fight with him on his side.

“I do,” he said softly. Suddenly, the urge to reach for him, to touch the boy’s face, was so strong but the way he looked at him with so much intensity stopped him from doing so. Alas, their kimonos touched. Wakamiya counted the days until he could ascend to the throne. It was a requirement that Yukiya as his kin’ju to move in to one of the rooms in the upper floors of the Main Shrine, close to the emperor’s suite, like it had always been thousands of years ago.

A thought came up to him: What a fool to put all his trust to one person.

He wanted to tell him how in diverse ways he was important to him. The teenager, on the other hand, turned red on the face and leaned his arms on the handrail.

And now you are hiding away from me.

Wakamiya’s left hand was an inch closer to Yukiya’s hair. He heard the boy whine softly as if in pain.

“Your bed is calling for you,” Wakamiya could only say.

“I will come back per our agreement,” Yukiya assured him.

“Of course. I expect you to.”

The boy wished him good night and headed toward his bedchamber.

As the sound of footsteps slowly ebbed away, Wakamiya started to shiver as the biting cold filled his lungs. He then inserted his hands inside his kimono sleeves to warm them up and let out a sigh that he was keeping for so long.

He waited for the sunrise to come.

tbc

—

So enamoured of the Yatagarasu universe I don’t blame everyone who’s enchanted by it. This is Yukiya’s POV. Full AO3 link here.

[thesashawick]

Semper Fidelis: Chapter ii

Pairing: Marcus Acacius/Original Female Character

Summary:  Dulcilla has only loved a man in her entire life; her master, Marcus Acacius, great General of Roma. And it's her love for her master that will change the fate of the world.

Word Count: 1940

Tags: Age Difference, Grooming, Dubious Morality, Dark!Marcus, Ancient Rome, Slavery, Sexual Slavery, Dubious Consent, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Underage, Pseudo-Incest

Chapter ii.

ACACIUS I

He read through the reports of his men with a glare in his eyes, the tiredness that weighted on his shoulders a constant reminder of the litle rest he had during his search. His men searched the entire Palatine Hill for six days, every single complex on that damned hill, leaving not even a single stone unturned, and yet they found nothing.  He had hoped that she had found employment somewhere near his domus, that she had been able to stay close, even if whatever job she found would have been beneath her. Yet, from the very beginning of his search, he had known she had not, Lucilla's words had been enough warning for him. Little Dulcilla had been sent far away, hidden from him. As if he was a danger to her.  And she could be anywhere in the vastness of Roma by now, and perhaps, he would never find her. 

He hadn't allowed himself to think of that outcome in the five days since his return. His mind was filled with finding Dulcilla, worried for her safety and her state of mind. His sweet one had always been a gentle girl, it had him constantly worried she was going to be exploited by the other slaves despite their good relationship with her. How could she survive on her own, without him to watch over her?  He had raised her carefully and lovingly, providing her the best of everything she needed or wanted; never allowing her to experience scarcity, or the ache of an starving stomach. How was she to bear the kind of treatment most gave their slaves? When he hadn't dared to even raise his voice at her, nevermind look at her with a glare in his eyes?

How would she be able to bear the hardships of the world on her own, away from him?

Enough was to have spent two years away from his sweet girl, incapable of returning without risking great punishment that would have endangered her. Enough was that he had to part from her so often in the name of Roma's so called glory; that he often missed important moments of her growth. Enough was that the physical distance between them eroded his sanity, making him more akin to a beast hiding under the skin of a man.

But what else could he do but search? Tomorrow the games on his supposed honor would be hosted, and he would have to stop the search. His half formed plans of overthrowing the twin emperors tentative, hesitant. Without Dulcilla what good would it do? 

Acacius had planned to grant her the freedom she deserved once he returned from Numidia. He had planned a great celebration where he would gift her jewels and fine silks, a sword made for her and property as a gift. He had planned to ask for her patience as he divorced Lucilla, or as he disposed of her, to allow Ducilla to become his wife. Had wanted to elevate her as high as he possibly could. Many things had he planned throughout his time away. He had imagined even more; how he would be received (with open arms and sweet words), how he would spend his first night back in Roma (laying in bed with her, healing the wounds of his soul inside her arms, through her gentle touch, feeling the warmth of her body), how he would tell those damned emperors that he was going to retire from his time of war and how he would spend the rest of his days with his beloved girl. 

All of it had been a beautiful dream; ruthlessly taken away the moment he woke up. 

And how had he woken up. 

Once before, he had loved Lucilla, had married her due to his duty and his love to Maximus. Had accepted her initial distance, her heartache too fresh and recent to allow her heart to open again, had even kept the secret of her son's survival, had helped her search for him. He had been a loyal man, until he couldn't bear her reluctant and short affection. Until his beloved light came into his world. The little slave from Britannia, young enough to be his daughter almost twice over; The girl that had brought light and healing to his soul, that had —despite her frightening new reality— given everything she had to offer to him, devoting herself without asking anything but to allow her to share his burden. Dulcilla had never looked at him like a broken man. Had never seen him as a simple man of war and violence, despite his violent nature, his ways of brutal conquest. She had seen his heartache,  felt the tiredness of his bones after decades of waging war in the name of a decaying empire. And she had loved him all the same. 

Lucilla had flinched away from the real him long ago. 

Dulcilla had never even blinked at his true self. 

Despite that, he had never thought he would be betrayed by Lucilla, the woman he respected and had never forsaken despite her conditional love. The woman who he thought respected him in return. 

How could she think of him so lowly as to free his beloved heart with schemes and send her away? 

Acacius had always been clear in his standing towards Dulcilla. He had protected her from the world, from those that sought to do her harm due to her soft nature. He had never allowed harm to come to her, the shadows of his living legacy tall enough to give her cover behind them. He had been a father to her, when her own proved useless at the task, had spoiled her with tender indulgence, as if she truly had been his own child. And when his love shifted and bloomed into what it was now, he had respected her agency, her own decision to cross the boundary between them and never daring to overstep her boundaries with wandering hands or pressuring her into doing something she did not want. He had been careful to ensure she was never hurt by him, or his actions. Intentional or not.

How was it that no one could see that? 

Lucilla should have seen his intentions were true. She had known him for decades, had been his wife for almost 20 years, and yet she believed the worst of him. But how had she achieved such conclusions? Acacius had been extremely cautious, never expressing the true nature of his love in front of others, keeping it to the sanctity of his rooms. He had been sure no one had seen anything damning. Then, how was it that his sweet heart was gone and his wife had been the one to send her away?

He frowned: his eyes leaving the report from Quintus that told him nothing new, and shifting his gaze to the bust of Dulcilla that he had commissioned when she was but eleven, finding a silver of comfort on her familiar visage; Lucilla was an intelligent woman, it was one of the qualities he respected the most from her. And she was not the kind of person to draw conclusions from thin air. She had seen nothing that could have given her the wrong impression. He had made sure of that, he had known no one would understand what he and Dulcilla had. That no one could understand that he was a violent man, but he would never dare to hurt the one he treasured. And Dulcilla, she was his heart, his soul, the blood running through his veins. How would he even think to harm her without destroying himself in the process? 

He thought back on who could have anything believable to Lucilla, something that she would believe because it came from a trusted source. Her slaves and servants were most likely serving outsiders looking for information, and she would never believe them if they said something about Dulcilla and him. That left his slaves, who he knew were loyal to him till death. They would not betray his confidence. But there was a family of slaves among those he owned that Lucilla would believe due to their honesty. 

Dulcilla's family. 

Rufus, Severina, Verica and Fausta. 

Of course it had to be them. They had never understood that Dulcilla wasn't like them, that she was special and meant to be treated differently. Rufus, her lacking father, had never forgiven him for taking her from their family. It had been a necessary path, and he did not regret it. But he did regret to not have cut the issue at the beginning. He should have sold Rufus to someone who would have taken him far away from Roma, or perhaps Acacius should have killed him and be done with it. But the love he had for his heart stayed his hand. He would never cause her to experience grief if he could help it. But now, his mercy had been his enemy, and not his ally. 

Of course he could understand that at hearing four voices saying the same thing, Lucilla would have believed them. But, she would not have trusted their word by itself, so they must have found something to aid their claim. But what? He had been careful to not write anything but fatherly words to her in his previous campaigns. To not leave her suggestive gifts, to speak with her softly and tender like a father, never like a lover. 

So what exactly had been the thing that had made Lucilla believe them?

It couldn't be that night, surely. 

But if not that, then what? Simple words by slaves that never liked him? 

No. 

Who was he fooling by avoiding the obvious?

Of course it had to be that night.

Dulcilla had been unconsolable. Her beautiful amber eyes reddened and filled with tears that fell down her pale cheeks, forming little rivers that traced a path to her throat. It had been her fourteen birthday just a day ago, he had thrown a small celebration for just the two of them, and Dulcilla had enjoyed being lavished with affection and gifts in the privacy of his rooms. But then something had happened, and his beloved girl had broken down in a wail of uncontrollable crying. He had done everything he could to appease her, to make her feel better; had promised a thousand things, from conquests to outright treason. Nothing seemed to make her stop. But then, and it must have been something he had said amidst his near desperate ramblings, that had made her stop immediately. To this day he didn't know what he had said, and she didn't remind him. She had raised her head, her beautiful gentle eyes unwavering, looked at him and kissed him with such intensity that left him breathless. 

They had laid on the bed, her plump body on top of his, nearly weightless, and they had kissed for what felt like hours. Then, content and pleased, she had laid her head on top of his chest, her left ear to where his heart was, and he had taken the opportunity to hold her, caressing her head with tenderness and love. 

Their moment seemed eternal, until Lucilla appeared at the threshold. 

She had seemed preoccupied, her usual clear eyes in shock. And he had been so worried for his beloved, that he had not seen the signs of their discovery.  Had attributed her disarray to the day of Maximus death, coincidentally the day of his sun's birth day .

He had not seemed to remember an important fact.

Dulcilla had been naked. 

chapter I. Masterlist. Chapter iii

AO3 Link:

[lovedrunkheadcanons]

Chapter Contents

(Arranged Marriage Fic) Read on AO3

RATED M

A predator knows how to hide in plain sight; A lion will camouflage with the Saharan grass next to a herd of grazing zebra; A bolas spider will emit chemicals akin to female moth pheromones to lure prospective male moths towards its web; A thousand year old cursed spirit will split his essence into twenty fingers and scatter himself to places forgotten by man, ready to be made whole. Predators understand that to hunt their prey, you must first lower their defenses. Give them a false sense of security. Dupe the fools into believing they are safe and sound and the danger has passed when it lies waiting on their doorstep. Hungry.

Satoru didn’t trust the finger outright. He wasn’t so naive as to think it could ever be that simple. His plan was to monitor. Cursed objects had to be monitored for twenty-four hours when found. Kumari was strong, but if anything were to go wrong she wouldn’t stand a chance, and his wife’s behavior only made him more suspicious, hence why he took the finger home (and maybe also to appease his inquisitive nature). Hannah thought nothing of it when they returned. It’ll be gone in the morning, she thought and cozied up beside her husband on the futon later that night. Satoru would take care of everything. He always did.

So she thought.

From the time she was small, since the tender age of five or six, Hannah had been hearing voices. One hears many voices when inheriting The Sight. Mostly last breaths and dying screams. A curse cackling by the carnage of torn bodies. All of them disturbing and violent and horrible. So why would this be any different?

It rasped somewhere far in the distance. Thames. Over the pine crested peaks of Mt. Takao, the mokoshi penthouse roofs, and the torii gates. Thames. It blew across the school yard, rustling passed the trees, billowing near their house, sighing through the eaves, through the walls, just outside Hannah’s bedroom. Rattling her eardrums.

She heard claws scrape across the floor, repeating a name no longer hers.

Thames.

Satoru’s arm was wrapped snugly around her torso, holding her dear, yet she had no trouble breaking free and rising from the floor, leaving him sound asleep on the futon. “Mmph,” he grunted and stirred at the feel of something missing, but then switched positions and grew still once more, snoring contently on their shared pillow.

Somnolent, Hannah stood and walked towards the entrance, a thin nightgown strap hanging loosely off her shoulder. The door slid open by its own accord, but she did not return to the only person who could grant her safety. Out to the beyond she wandered.

Each step felt lighter than air down the tatami woven corridors, the shoji panels. Door after door after door, adjarring without interruption, her silhouette a mere shadow across the many lantern-lit halls. The voice beckoned louder. Thames. It wanted her. She would answer.

She came to a halt at the twelfth door, riddled in spell-tags. The incantation Satoru recited could be traced back to the earliest of jujutsu, some say since before the monolithic Jōmon began texturing their clay with bands of rope.1 Ancient jujutsu was the purest form of sorcery for good reason. Untainted. Indomitable. Satoru had mastered the secret incantation quicker than his predecessors. Nothing on heaven or earth should’ve been able to cross those barriers and remove those spell-tags.

Hannah did so without lifting a pinkie.

The barrier didn’t object to her presence, and the paper tags unglued themselves, one by one, scattering to the floor like a pile of white autumn leaves. The door slowly parted. Inside over by the corner was the sealed box. That’s it now, come here. Come to me. Five steps and she was hunkered down in front of it like a curious Pandora, nescient of the evil she was about to release upon the world. She flicked open the notches.

The floor beneath collapsed.

Hannah felt she was falling…

falling.

falling.

Her bare feet hardly made a splash in the blood water, wading just above her knees. Something ripe mushed between her toes. The air stank heavily of decay and iron. Though her eyes were transfixed by the large blackened ribs scaffolded above like an animal enclosure.

On a mound of bones, human and beast, buttressed and stacked high, was a notch arranged into a dais. The eery crimson light, emanating from God knows where, began building in strength, and the bone-filled graveyard started to unveil its secrets. She saw the outline of a figure seated atop the bones. Something like four monstrous arms, two sets of eyes, tattoos, and a mouth where a stomach should've been.

Regaining her wits, Hannah’s head began to throb. Her knees quaked. Blood ceased circulating to her legs from the cold water. She couldn’t feel the oxygen exit her lungs, nor her heart crumble and un-crumble like a reused plastic bottle.

“W-Where am I?” she croaked.

She saw one of its two mouths twist into a wry, sinister grin and suddenly felt she had unintentionally signed her death certificate. That’s not human, she thought. Not anymore. An alien life form. A freak of nature. Demonic.

“Woman.” the four-armed demon drawled above its mountain of skeletons, man and beast. “Did Uraume send you?”

Hannah stayed silent, struck paralyzed from the waist down.

“Are you a challenger?” it spoke again.

Tendrils of fear clamped around her throat. “A what?” she said dumbly.

The demon gave out a snorting laugh, “Guess not,” and rose to its feet. In a flash, it was standing in front of her, frame hulking and grotesque, roughly seizing her face between a mass of blackened claws, hooking a thumb to her lower lip. Hannah drew mute. The malevolence in its four vermillion eyes was a raw, insatiable sort.

“Weak,” the demon crooned, and stretched its mouth into that awful, predacious grin that conveyed unspeakable harm. Something knife-point sharp tapped her lower back.

The last thing Hannah heard were cruel peals of laughter before the world was swallowed inside a scarlet sea.

A goodnight’s sleep was a hardfought luxury for a jujutsu sorcerer. Not that it mattered much. Satoru sucked at sleeping anyways. Always had. Always will, so it didn’t take much for him to become gradually aware that the primal, gut-wrenching screams ringing in his subconscious were not a figment of his dreams, but real.

Oh so terrifyingly real.

The Six Eyes wielder could recall the time he witnessed the late cauterization of a grown bull, back when the estate was in the business of raising livestock. Most dehornings are performed when the bull is a calf to reduce infection and long-term pain: chemical solutions,"tubes," saws, keystone dehorners, you name it. But the rancher they hired cared little for the well-being of their cattle, and thought axing the bull’s horns with an old splitting maul and cauterizing the wound with a branding iron was the method of choice; highly illegal. Satoru watched him tie the bovine’s head down in a compromising position and with zero remorse start chopping. The agonized lowing that left the animal with each forceful thwack of the maul. The blood. Satoru couldn’t remember much of what he did afterwards, other than running to Makoto in tears. He freed all the estate’s livestock the day he became clan-leader, suppressing childhood trauma he hadn’t told a single soul.

Now twenty years later, Hannah’s tormented screams reminded him of that one bull.

There was no escaping it.

Wide awake and panicked, he twisted himself over to see his wife thrashing wildly on the bedding, her screams not of fear, but of pain; vocal chords cracking and clicking from too much exertion. She couldn’t catch her breath.

But what alarmed him most were her eyes. Hannah’s frightened eyes were like two dying stars, glowing a bright, ember red, inflamed and leaking a flood of tears, staring wide open.

He grabbed her by the arms, shaking, voice pleading for her to wake up, but every attempt failed. She scrambled to get away, wincing whenever his fingers came too close to touching her back.

This did not go unnoticed. Holding her at an angle, Satoru ever so gently slipped a hand underneath and felt his body grow cold at the sensation of something warm and sticky soaking the satin nightgown, the tang of rust. He began praying, Please be sweat, please be sweat, and slowly removed his hand.

The palm was coated so thickly in blood you’d think it was fresh paint, staining the once white futon into a dark, sickly grenache that would never wash out. With trembling hands, Satoru mustered the courage to flip her over and see what his heart earnestly wanted to deny.

Bile rushed to his throat. It was worse than he could’ve imagined.

Gashes like a jagged cuneiform were scrawled all along the expanse of her back; phantom claws, five tallies each, plowing deep into the skin, digging for purchase. Hannah sobbed more violently than ever. Her pallor was like stained glass left exposed to sunlight, faded and drained of color. Blood. Blood everywhere.

To his frustration, Satoru’s eyes detected nothing wrong. He saw no neon trail, no grimy residuals, an invisible enemy he could not see and could not fight; a true ghost. The band of gold on his finger started burning.

What is this?

Hannah’s strangled cries were growing weaker by the second, either from fatigue or something far more life upending. Her lips took a bluish hue from the oxygen not circulating to her brain and the rest of her body, hazel eyes glassy. If he didn’t act now, she’d be gone forever.

“Stay with me, Hannah.”

Satoru scooped his wife in his arms, her cries faint and disoriented, and ran like hell out the door.

“Please, don’t die.”

Chapter Contents

[waltwhitmansbeard]

I have baked goods for you in exchange for this prompt?

"holding your hands above your head as they kiss you"

I was hoping for some Vaxleth Vamp Machina? 🥺🥺 Thank you <3

holding your hands above your head as they kiss you this is the au!

So she's given in. There's no denying it now, no turning back, no undoing it—she's in love with this vampire, who, in turn, loves her back, and on a morning, when she returns to the apartment she shares with Percy, lips swollen and skin flushed, she begins a long day of lying. Luckily, Percy's tendency to lock himself in his room, hunched over his worktable with his glasses sliding down his nose, means she usually has time to sneak inside, to right her clothes and come out of her bedroom pretending she's been home the whole night, rather than in the arms of one of the very fiends Percy is working so very hard to eradicate.

But this morning, in the final pre-dawn minutes, perhaps she takes her friend's inattentiveness for granted. Perhaps allowing Vax, more insistent than usual, to walk her right to their door was not the wisest decision, even if he did plead so alluringly back at his place. (She saw something there, in his eyes, beneath the heat and the gentleness and the desire, something akin to worry. She asked him, then, why he wanted to walk her home so badly, but all he would do was flash his fangs teasingly and joke about things that go bump in the night.) Perhaps bringing him up to their floor, to the door that separates him from the world she must hide him from, the door he presses her back against, both of her wrists in one of his hands above her head—perhaps this is her mistake. His other hand grazes tantalizingly down her side, slipping under the hem of her shirt to dance over her stomach, and oh, oh, oh how her heart stutters and stops, erratic and buzzing, a bumblebee in flight. He mouths at her clavicle, sharp teeth the best kind of threat across her skin, and she can't suppress her body's surge to meet his, straining against his hold on her wrists as she tries to be just an inch closer to him.

He laughs, dangerous and teasing, against the hollow of her throat, and he brings his lips to hover just above hers. "Still so needy," he murmurs, and surely her face has caught fire by now, "even after last night." She whines, low, pitiful. "Mm, I ought to get you inside before you get us both in trouble."

As if he had tempted the fates with his statement, Keyleth sags back against the door, knocking into it far more roughly than she'd intended. The whole thing shudders in the frame, and both of them freeze, eyes wide. After a moment, from inside the apartment, a muffled, "Keyleth?"

The hand releases Keyleth's wrists, and she grabs for the doorknob. "Go!" she hisses, nodding down the hall toward the stairs they'd just come up.

Before he does, he takes her face in both of his hands, gentle, soft, and gives her a slow, lingering kiss. "Until tonight," he whispers, and then he is gone, the hall empty before she can even blink. She stands there, blood still boiling and breath still uneven, for half a moment, before she hears the squeak of Percy's bedroom door inside. She slips into the apartment, closes the door, and attempts to steal away into her own room. She makes it halfway before there's a groggy voice behind her. "Did you...go somewhere?"

She whips around, smiling too-bright at Percy's mussed hair and crooked glasses. "Hi! No. Yes. No, but yes, I, um. Needed to go outside. Fresh air. Long night."

Percy blinks, rubbing at one eye with the heel of his palm. "You look...distressed?"

Oh for fuck's sake, she looks debauched. "Just...one of those nights. I'm good, really. Gonna...shower...maybe...try to sleep some more..." She won't, but anything to get out of this conversation.

He seems to buy it. "Okay. I'm gonna...pass out again, probably." He turns to head back toward his room, but then stops, looks back at her, and says, "Be careful going out while it's still dark. There are vampires out there, don't forget."

Oh man, Keyleth thinks as Percy returns to his room and closes the door. You have no idea.

[arseniy-arsenicum33]

A bunch of abandoned WIPs...

Sometimes you spend a lot of time on an idea, that for some reason isn't worth pursuing... Let me yell into the void about this year's pile...

So, my Idea for the duration of this season, was to make little vignettes with funny or memorable moments from different POVs, since I already watch nearly every Hermit... How did it go? Terribly... It stopped right after the first batch at the end of February...

The Ministry of Ministers governing The Neighbourhood...

Let's start with the most complicated it terms of reasons to abandon... At the start of the season, 9 hermits have settled so close to each other, that it somewhat organically formed the neighbourhood... With its own HOA and everything... I really thought that this bit would last longer than it did... And tried to make a model for every minister... I've got four...

Ren appointed himself as a Minister of Ministers, and Cleo as a Minister of Garbage... There was talks about a coop, I was very excited for this... Here is Cleo getting ready to smash Ren's head with two garbage can lids... But no coop come to fruition... They already overthrew him in season 9, and didn't want to end up with all Ren's responsibilities AGAIN... Understandable... Still, there was no reason to post this, so I didn't...

Stress got the role of Minister of Food, and was very happy with her poisonous potato hat... Shame, she isn't part of Hermitcraft anymore, but I respect her decision...

Sometime later Wels has also became the Minister of Light... So here he is lighting up street lamps with torches... He never got the hat, as far as I'm aware...

Oofff... Here he is... Remember, then at the start of the season, Beef and Iskall had this whole sitcom situationship? Iskall repainted Beef's house red with netherrack? While Beef was desperately trying to be left alone on his farm? Good times... Here they are parodying the American Gothic by Grant Wood... Let me just say, I've made this in may, and this is the last model I'll make of Iskall... No graces for him, get out... Moving on...

Here are all the other Ministers... I just haven't came up with fitting poses for them... And because I like to make long themed posts, in order to not clog up the Hero Forge tag posting them one by one, I couldn't post any of them, while the others are unfinished... Somewhere down the line Keralis became the secretary and was pooping in the meeting room, so my workload increased... Xisuma is the tricky one, you see, he was the Minister of Idiots, meaning, he's the one wrangling the Villagers... The reasonable thing to model would be some villager interaction... But you see... His hat... Is a separate model of a whole person hiding inside Xisuma's body... And Hero Forge doesn't allow more than two human models on the same base... So, no villagers for me... Nowadays, this problem could've been solved with kitbashing... But even if I get the monthly subscription, there are the guaranties that I would have the time to model anything and not be overtaken by my job and other hobbies? To risky, I don't have that kind of money to subscribe to things... Oh, and Juppet is also here... I really like Joe's skin, I really do... But, boy, is is making my life in particular more troubled than it needs to be... This is seriously the best I could translate his skin in Hero Forge, this Ugly-Sonic-Live-Action-Muppet-Remake-Looking-Ass... This is the reason, you are not getting any Juppet models, I gave up... For someone, who is a total nobody in the fandom circle, I sure do have a lot of high standards...

Tall Claims Court Episode 1: ZombieCleo vs Docm77...

I wanted to make something akin to courtroom sketches that would illustrate the trial... And quickly run out of breath, the plan was just to big... Courtroom drama works in part because it's in a room, in an enclosed space, with stands and furniture and whatnot... And Hero Forge is built...not for that... I did manage to model something resembling a table for Cleo...

But for Doc I've just ran out of juice and was putting back this model, until it became utterly irrelevant... Juppet is also...not helping... I like Joe's skin this season, but it made my life specifically very hard... So the model is unfinished to this day, and undoubtedly, will stay this way forever...

RenDog's testimony... I like to make my models viewable from every angle, and here I just couldn't bring myself to model a whole witness-stand, then I can just crop out the dangling legs, and False's tail, holding the shield/table... To much work for not enough payout... And I was supposed to make the same stand for Beef's testimony about Doc's esophagus... And Judge Bdubs's... No thanks...

Here's a good look at Ren's GigaCorp uniform, that I also, probably, would never use...

Stranglers from season 9...

Mmm, the real coop, how I miss you... These poses are taken from this absolutely gorgeous animatic by Mefazy at 2:24... I already had models for HotGuy and Gorgon Cleo... So it was only fitting... But it couldn't fit in any other posts, so here it is for the first time...

The coronation of the Dungeon Queen... I don't even remember my reasoning for making this... Could've been part of DND-Hermits... I just couldn't make the pose work as I wanted... No matter what I did, Tango's gaze kept getting sultrier... Not the mood I'm trying to express here...

Eeeeehhh... Could've been cool, if I had any skills in photoshop to put small Grian onto his palm... You can tell the model is old, because now we have better options for hand poses...

Somewhat recent...

Scientist Gem! Studying Pearl from a distance... I just dressed her up and forgot to pose properly...

And this was supposed to be Mumbo's death in Wild Life... I wanted to make explosion from the horse tails... Just couldn't bother... So here is Mumbo deathly scared of this abomination...

Okay, I've got them of my chest... Let's hope, in the new year, I will develop a work ethic, and stop putting so much on myself, while being unsure about the necessity of my labour... I was supposed to make these for fun, there did the fun go? I'm free...

[your-regina]

Graveyard of a mind

I don't belong in the world, that's what it is! Something separates me from other people. Everywhere I turn there is something blocking my escape. It's trying to prevent me from living. I can't fight anymore, I don't know what's real anymore.

I can't believe you.

Isn't it just unnerving? If I don't try it doesn't work, and if I try it still doesn't work.

There is something inherently wrong with me, something innate, grown in the womb along with my body. I have something imprisoning me, separating me from my treasures.

Will you believe it if I say I never meant any harm? I believe you wouldn't, I throw tantrums and cry like a child, I'm bad with words and hurt people when I'm just trying to emulate the way you talk. For all you know, I'm just way too difficult and not worth your time.

I swear I'm just bad at being human. These things you take for granted, the ability to speak freely and the way you just know what you shouldn't say, I don't have that. It takes me a lot of time and thought to reach that point, it comes artificially like a coding I have to learn and change.

It hurts when I see you drifting away but I'm wise enough to know just who is to blame for it, and I know it isn't you. You see, I'm always the first one to get burnt by these flames in my chest, so I can foresee these departures with heartbreaking accuracy.

I know what I did, I know it now, or at least I think I do. Maybe there's more that I never even realized? I wouldn't put it past me, never. I struggle a lot with my identity, I'm never quite sure of what I am or what I want, but the only thing I know for sure is that I'm simply strange and difficult. And some may feel prompted to say that I'm not, I'm just a rare gem yet to be found and loved. They're wrong. I'm radioactive.

You don't feel it, you don't see it, but one day, all of a sudden you have been harmed, somewhere deep and painful. I'm such a gem.

I do have something akin to a psychiatric diagnosis, something that sort of explains a lot of things, but it doesn't feel quite right. Maybe I don't need a diagnosis at all, there's no medicine for the hell I carry. Isn't it enough to know that, for whatever reason, all logic will forever elude me? Always just short of normal. Like a wax statue, a silk flower, a drawn face.

I don't see the world differently, it's not like I've figured out something marvelous that made my life more complicated. Rather I was born forever marveled by all the things I will never get, I see the world as something I can't ever reach or touch, as somewhere I don't belong to.

I was told I was on the autistic spectrum, and later some other psychologist said I wasn't. In a way it felt kind of comforting to think that I wasn't just randomly weird and difficult, but I guess I will be that for everyone regardless of the actual reason, so it doesn't matter anymore, it never mattered.

I have a heavy heart, it weighs too much in my chest and I feel like I have to shake something out of it. I hurt a lot, and I hurt people near me as well.

I smile and accept everything, I don't have a personality and I live just to please. Whatever you think, whatever you want, I think the same and I want the same. I am a mirror and you feel comfortable until you see your reflection twisting with my interference. It's just natural to get scared and leave.

I don't think it's unfair for me, but I think it's unfair. Do you expect me to be reasonable? Have you not learnt a single thing about me? If I'm alone and I'll always be, what's the use of being logical and preachy? I can cry about it if I want even if I'm the one to blame, who is going to complain about it, anyway?

I was going crazy, for real. My heart was beating in double time, the air was never enough. I kept wondering if I messed up my body with my horrible habits or if I messed up all my connections to this planet with my venomous radiation. Either was plausible.

I was so mad about it, too.

What has happened? Isn't it all a huge misunderstanding? Am I the only one who can't sleep today? Oh, how I wish you could drown the way I'm drowning right now, how I hope one day your heart climbs up your throat like mine has. I want everything back, whatever you have of me, give it back! I have felt so much my body has become tenderized and ready for consumption. I want to eat myself until I disappear leaving nothing but a bloody puddle. I want you to get stained with my disappearence, to stab your head from the underworld and crawl inside it until you feel the way I did. What makes you different? What makes you better? Why am I laughable and you're laughing? Why won't you rot as well?

[stalkist]

it's an enticing thought. the two of them running off together, akin to some love struck teenagers, starting life anew a world away from here. no matter where they go, any physicality to their affections will earn some side - eyes and scorn. there's no hiding the obvious — their large difference in age and life experience is evident for all — but somewhere else, their audience wouldn't be privy to the truth. wouldn't know the secret about the old man who can't keep his dirty hands off his blushing young bride ... “ maybe a vacation ? ” suggests as a way to satiate their urges of taking their warped romance for a public drive, “ somewhere hot and busy where daddy can test how his baby girl behaves when she's shown off ? ” captivated by the subject on her knees, it's no difficult task to picture her sunkissed and bikini clad on a beach someplace, trying her best to hide her flushed cheeks as roland gropes at her sweet shape for any sordid peers to laud over. soft grunt at the squeeze of his dick quickly transforms into deep groan, the wet heat of female's tongue lapping at his sensitive tip and causing body to tense from the pleasure that radiates from center. “ good girl, ” breathes as he's taken into her mouth, enveloped by her warmth as he's welcomed inside, hazel hues magnetized to the way her soft brims suckle at the rigid cock parting them. wonders then what he did as a father to deserve a daughter such as his doting daphne. always taking care of her old man so readily and diligently. for all the ways he's selfish and corrupt, has been granted an angel to serve him here on earth. his taste of heaven in the form of a bright - eyed and beautiful blonde. “ that's it, ” homme hums, the slick of her saliva and the sensation of her slurping at his seeping head causing hips to instinctively shift forwards, hungry for more of her holy worship. “ make it nice and sloppy. i want to hear you work for all of daddy's special love. ” digits wrap around the small hand still clenching at his shaft, guiding her grip up and down the neglected length in a slow jerking motion. “ baby, you keep makin' daddy proud like this and maybe i'll have no choice but to share you all over the internet ... ”

a handful of vaguely thrilling encounters prior to her daddy acting on his sinful veracious feelings for her had naively left daphne with the knowledge that she knew men — knew what they wanted and how they wanted it . but it had been a quick realisation that daphne had merely scraped the sides of what true sexual exploration was like , that her father had so much more experience than herself ; she couldn't let him down , disappointing her daddy was a fate worse than death itself in her eyes . daphne frequently wondered if her mother had been this obedient , eager to learn and be the sole focus of roland's addictive attention . was daphne better than her predecessor ? " maybe we could go somewhere ? a place where nobody knows who we are ? " dreams of such sweet ignorance , walking hand in hand with her daddy and kissing him freely out in the hot summer air . " but i'd love for you to show me off on the internet daddy ", hues drift towards his camera setup , fingers clenching his thick cock in hopefully a way he appreciates — she has been deep diving into the lewd and murky world of sexually explicit videos that roland may enjoy himself . on her knees for her god feels right , staring up at him and feeling his powerful raw energy cover her like silk . his cock truly was a sight to behold , pulsating veins guiding the way toward his engorged head and down toward a pair of balls that fit so perfectly in cupped palms . " if they were allowed they start by kissing their cocks , daddy . showing how important it is to them ", dilated pupils seem to only expand further as her pink tongue extends from gloss slick lips , a slow swirl of the appendage across his leaking head . " gosh daddy it always tastes so good ", femme adjusts her stance , inching forward as her mouth encompasses his head and closes around it . cheeks hollow and a muffled sucking can be heard as the femme strives to relieve her father from all the stress and burden he carries — such a strong man , devoted to her and her growth as a woman .

[lucs-dxve]

tame

pairings: kaeya x gn!reader

genre: smut (MINORS DNI.)

warnings: nsfw, top!reader, sub!kaeya, mild swearing, dry humping, slight!dacryphilia, pet names (sweetheart, dove)

wc: 3k

summary: there’s hell to pay for kaeya’s misdemeanour. you love him to pieces, you do, but sometimes your lover gets a little too full of himself.

"quiet, alberich," you tut disapprovingly. "you don't get to make demands tonight."

kaeya's voice, caught somewhere between a chuckle and a choked moan, comes from underneath you as he pushes himself up with his elbows. you'd mistake his tone as flippant but you know better thanks to the shivers wracking across his body.

you could feel them; each and every minute jolt of his sculpted form. it's— it’s delicious, if you dare be so honest with yourself.

a guilty pleasure from where you're perched sitting pretty on his lap.

"aren't you being a little mean, sweetheart?"

there’s something about the way kaeya’s chest heaves that satisfies something deep within you- some obscured need. something primal. more visceral.

the knowledge that you have such a powerful, sought-after man in your bed, at your very fingertips, draws a smile from you. a proud one.

“a little,” you agree, but the smile drops as quickly as it came. “though it’s nothing compared to how you’ve been acting this evening.”

kaeya flashes you that signature grin, all teeth, feigning innocence as if he hadn’t been your personal hell less than half an hour ago. cheeky bastard.

“i have no idea what you’re—”

a single, steady hand on his chest pushes him back down onto the bed before he could finish making any excuses. he goes easily, falling with little to no resistance.

the man snickers as you raise a single brow at him, at his sly attitude. you let him laugh.

you have a feeling he won’t be soon.

silently you lean over him until puffs of his warm breath fan your face, and with two fingers you angle his chin so that he’s staring directly at you with those periwinkle eyes.

you had discarded his eyepatch long ago. it lays strewn across your floorboards, not that either of you particularly care; you were now able to search him in his entirety, and he could now admire you with a vision unobscured.

something you can only describe as twisted pleasure hits you, then, as you feel him squirm beneath you. your thumb rises up to glide indulgently over his lips and you can’t help but sigh at the feel of his skin.

kaeya’s lips are warm, plush, and soft— words you’d never associate with the vision granted to him by the gods. they follow the movement of your thumb as you pull and smooth over the delicate skin. he gives you a chaste kiss with them, all the while never breaking eye contact.

the action elicits a pleased hum from you, and you don’t miss the way his leg jumps at the sound.

he’s being so pliant, he is. so malleable under your touch.

so behaved - if that was even a term applicable to the cavalry captain - unlike how he was at the tavern.

archons. it kind of makes you want to kiss him, really.

but that’s something only good boys deserve, and kaeya alberich is anything but.

what a shame.

“tell me.” your voice is low, a gentle purr, seductive against the shell of his ear. you trace the area, touch ghosting. “just what were you trying to get at, earlier?”

kaeya can’t help but shudder, making a noise akin to a soft groan. sensitive, his ears were. so easy to make flush. his head is swimming, thanks to your alluring scent and voice. your touch. they all fill his thoughts with nothing but you, you, you.

not like you ever left. you were stuck there, an untouchable beacon of everything good in his life, ever since he met you all those years ago.

shit.

is that the cologne he bought you a few weeks ago? he’s certain it is- that potent mix of sunsettias and calla lilies. he remembers the scent well. the realisation sends another shiver down his spine, coaxes another suppressed grunt past his lips.

truthfully, he imagined this night going completely different; different in the way that he was supposed to be the one on top, and not the other way around. that was simply just the natural position for the pair of you.

it wasn’t like he was complaining, though. far from it. it was rare for you to top him like this, and he welcomed every moment with open arms. this side of you was a rarity- a delicacy. a treat, all for him.

but he’s still kaeya alberich, no matter how pliant he is beneath you. no matter how easily he bends to your will.

he does his best to match your forwardness if only to push your buttons.

always pushing, this one. always.

there’s a pause midway through his answer as if mulling his words over.

“i was only playing with you, dove. it was hardly anything,” he says matter of factly, like it was the truest thing in the world. that grin was still plastered onto his handsome face despite the heat seared onto his cheeks.

you wonder how long it’ll stay there. not long, judging by the telltale signs of his arousal.

“groping me under the table isn’t hardly anything,” you hiss. “we almost got caught, kae. i know you're practically half blind, but didn’t you see the way charles was looking at us? archons above, even diluc was staring!” the memory has your face burning despite yourself.

kaeya hums, drawing out the sound. there’s a glint in his eyes that you, unfortunatley, depending on how you look at it, know very well.

you’re a patient person.

he’s testing you. wants to know how far he’ll get before you crack.

you swear you are.

“so they were, yes. and what of it?”

but even the most patient of saints have their limits.

“‘what of it’...?”

before kaeya could so much as blink, you pin the both of his wrists onto the bed as you settle back onto his groin. roughly. you begin a slow grind- so slow it’s near agonising for the man you call darling.

a simple back and forth motion.

you delight in the melody of his startled choke, drinking it in and savouring the taste like a parched animal. such a pretty voice for such a pretty man. a light sigh of relief escapes you as you feel that familiar bulge pressing up against your heat.

how well endowed, this man. truly, he had it all. everything.

had you all. everything, everything.

you watch with ravenous eyes as kaeya struggles to maintain his cool facade. there are fissures, cracks, now, within his glacial walls that you see all too clearly. every last trace of faux confidence is gone, now that the only thing on his mind is the pleasure of you grinding down onto him. he curses, breath ragged and mind foggy.

shamelessly he starts to roll his hips up onto you, matching your set pace. kaeya’s moans grow just the slightest bit louder, more salacious, as you press the rest of your weight onto his straining cock.

but you want more.

always are wanting more- more of him, to be exact. his pain, his pleasure. you want it all. 

want it so bad that you’re willing to destroy yourself for it. for him.

you aren’t normally this needy. or at least, you think you aren’t. but the way he’d been palming you underneath the wooden table at the tavern earlier had left you hot and bothered despite the chill of his cryo-infused hand.

and yet despite your growing need, there’s a sliver of guilt within your subconscience for wanting to covet such a gorgeous man. there are times where you wonder if you’re truly worthing of having kaeya all to yourself, despite his constant reassurances and promises. the questions lingered at the back of your mind, taunting you when you least expect it to.

and this moment was proof of that. even in the midst of your shared passion do these insecurities sing in your ears like sirens. seductive mistresses in your bed.

you don’t realise your pace has almost all but stopped, nor do you realise the sudden flash of concern within kaeya���s frosty eyes.

“dove?” he watches with a frown as his soft call falls on deaf ears. the heavy expression on your face told him all he needed to know, and he, too, stops his motions in concern for you.

what place did you, a lowly baker, have at the side of someone such as he? an upstanding member of ordo favonius? the insecurities are enough to consume you whole sometimes, enough to keep you awake even as he finds refuge in your arms at night.

but you’re nothing if not a tad selfish.

and with the way that kaeya was sprawled so vulnerably across your sheets, letting you see the most hidden and intimate side of him, peering at you with a gaze so gentle is enough to quell your worries and hold them at bay.

this is the kaeya that only you, and you alone, were privy to. the fact that he trusts you this much is a testament to your relationship, how far you've both come; it placates you, and so does his hand stroking your cheek. you turn to give a lasting kiss on the palm that cradles you.

thank you.

the words go unspoken, but you trust he understands you nonetheless. he always does.

he’s so picturesque like this; half naked, cobalt hair cascading down his form in waves, and looking up at you with those eyes... kaeya is perfect. so perfect, in fact, that it’s almost painful.

yes, you murmur silently. you are selfish.

you pick up your pace, and he gasps.

the sudden change in your movements, once slow and teasing but are now faster and more deliberate, has kaeya reeling. his head falls back onto your pillow and the action exposes the length of his throat.

the sight makes you think of biting him. 

“hmm...” a single finger ghosts lightly at his jugular. kaeya whimpers. 

whimpers.

you change your mind. you’re going to bite him.

ducking down, you lave gently over the spot that you know has him seeing stars- an apology for the possible pain to come. then, experimentally, and for your own curious pleasure, you push down on the area with your tongue before finally nipping his skin, sucking the bite tenderly.

the action has him gasping your name into steamy air of your bedroom and thrusting shallowly back onto you.

oh, what a glorious noise.

you wonder, absentmindedly, if he knows what he’s doing.

he’s unravelling you without even trying, and you could only hope that you make him feel even just a fraction of what he does to you.

you click your tongue after giving the bite an apologetic kiss. the mark blooms a pretty red once you leave. you hope it'll turn purple. blue, even, if only to match his azure hair.

but perhaps you’re being too mean.

the sound of rustling fabric catches your lover’s attention almost instantly, kaeya’s gaze snapping up to your fingers that move to unbutton your shirt. it’s hard, trying not to act phased when he’s stringing curses like a piece of jewellery.

he’s shameless roving his eyes over your exposed upper body. a devious idea comes to mind and you stretch, bringing your arms up sensually above your head, if only to tease the man further.

and what a sight you were.

you're only a little too pleased with yourself when you catch his adam's apple bobbing as he gulps.

you can feel it, his cock. feel it throbbing away within the confines of his tight pants. you wonder if it hurts to have it strain so much; there’s a twinge of pity welling up inside you, but you pay it no mind.

after all, he dug his grave as soon as he made you flush at the tavern; buried himself as soon as he pushed all your buttons, testing you with his bratty behaviour.

he’d pay with his pent-up frustration.

leaning back on your hands, you slow down once again and begin making small circles with your hips pressed impossibly closer to his ache. a heat licks up your groin as you watch him melt like ice before you. his chest rises and falls with each shaky intake of air, eyes squeezed shut before opening, half-lidded, to watch you with fervour.

you smile coyly at him, curiosity getting the better of you.

“do i look good to you, mr. alberich?”

“please,” it’s sinful, how utterly debauched he sounds. how it sends pleasure pooling straight to your gut. “please, need to— need to touch you.”

need. not want, need.

he’s adorable when he wants to be, truly. you almost give into his wishes.

almost. but you're no pushover.

“touch me and it’ll be the last time you do for the next month.”

you indulge in the way kaeya whines in assent- the sound, almost imperceptible, makes you coo down at him. his hands fall helplessly to his side, left with no other choice but to grasp at the silken sheets. a sweat begins to build upon his temple thanks to his efforts, and you stoop down to kiss at the area.

he’s so good. so good, and he doesn't even know it. 

for a captain, he sure knew how to take orders from others rather well.

perhaps it’s time for a reward, then.

making a show out of it, you run your tongue over two thumbs, ensuring that he could clearly see the pink of the soft organ, before gently pressing them down onto kaeya’s pert nipples.

you flick them in a steady rhythm; up with one, down with the other, groping at his pecs at random intervals.

you’re truly blessed to be able to have your hands on someone so gorgeous. your hands lay claim to each and every single dip and curve of his body.

it’s difficult not to feel anything but aroused when he’s practically bucking up into you now, clawing desperately at the bedding.

he looks like he’s about to cry. you think you want him to cry. he’s awfully pretty when he cries.

“you’re— you’re killing me, sweetheart!” your breath hitches audibly at the sheer desperation in his tone.

you’re fucked, you think, for wanting a man so badly. for him to reduce you to a such greedy mess with nothing but his voice? you’re completely, utterly fucked in every sense of the word.

you offer him a dry chuckle. “well, this is all you’re getting.” a pause, crossing your arms and tapping your chin as if in thought, “so be a darling and enjoy yourself.”

kaeya’s surprised he hasn’t torn through your bedding already with the restraint it’s taking him not to just flip you over and have his way with you.

there’s nothing he wants more than to touch and spoil you with his affections, litter you with love bites and make you go silly. but seeing as he's in no position to do so, he instead focuses on chasing his high, closing his eyes in pure ecstasy.

“n-ngh…”

“that’s it,” you coo. “such a good boy for me, isn’t that right?”

kaeya’s world spins as he nods his head. he can’t seem to stop the tremors coursing through his body at your soft praise, can no longer hold back the tears from spilling past his lashes. they run down his face in pretty rivulets, leaving glistening streaks in their wake. 

but alas, you’re no cruel lover. having kaeya beneath you, the very picture of vulnerability and submission, is enough to satiate your desires. 

he has been good, after all. much better than before.

“alright,” you cede. kaeya’s floating through the haze in his mind, and he barely manages to catch the rest of what you had to say.

touch me, kaeya.

with your permission finally granted, kaeya all but shoots up to lean his upper body against the headboard. sturdy arms fly to wrap around your waist as he all but smothers you to him, and it’s all you can do to sling your own around his neck and hold on.

a pent-up kaeya was not one to be taken lightly.

he’s all grunts and wanton moans now. not that he wasn’t already, but now that he’s able to have his hands on you he can’t seem to keep himself sane. his grip is almost bruising as you're smushed against his neck, hands wandering to your hips, to your lower back, then back around your waist as if he didn't know what to do with himself.

kaeya practically rabbits into you as he presses you onto him. restraints be damned, he’s so close.

so, so, impossibly close.

the friction of his clothes rubbing against his constrained, throbbing dick and the feel of your warmth surrounding him has the captain breaking at the seams. he’s close.

you’re in no better position yourself; gone is your authoritative tone, and all that slips past you now are muffled whimpers and pitiful gasps. you bite your lip in an attempt to stay as quiet as possible. quite the shame for kaeya, he loves to hear your pleasure.

but your lover doesn’t seem to share the same sentiment, when it comes to volume. never has, really.

“‘m— ‘m gonna—!”

kaeya finds himself at the precipice of bliss, and he falls hard, sated, with the knowledge that it was you who brought him there.

the sound of him reaching his orgasm is something you’d never tire of. if his regular voice already had you weak at the knees, you had no idea how to describe what his orgasm did to you.

it’s… it’s angelic, as sinful as the sound may be. it has you tossing your head back, eyes closed and mouth agape.

has you climaxing soon after, and hard. his voice, so sickeningly saccharine, sends you into a state of euphoria as you sing with him, shaking helplessly in his arms. your voices harmonise in a wonderful duet.

kaeya is loud. so, very loud.

but so are you, in the end. you gasp and whine and writhe at the feeling of his seed soaking through your pants.

archons. you fucked like animals, and now you’re making noises like them, too.

barbatos strike you down.

kaeya pets absentmindedly at you as he rides out both your orgasms, murmuring variations of ‘i love you’s as he kisses the expanse of your neck. you lay slumped against him, the both of you indulging in the rapture of your highs.

in post-orgasmic glow you realise that his pleasure is truly just as much yours as it is his. for you to have come just by watching and hearing him climax…

fuck. 

he’d be the death of you, surely.

but that’s fine. something tells you the sentiment goes both ways.

[bullsandthebones]

Steven Grant x male reader request!!! A cute picnic lunch, blanket and everything. Something about the idea of Steven sitting under a tree with reader chatting about their special interests (maybe even some cuddles) can be so personal <3

"Lunch With A Dork"

Steven Grant x Male Reader

FEM ALIGNED DNI

a lot of the stuff Steven says are hc's of mine (except for the Egyptian stuff)

"Just a little further, love", Steven reassured you, his hands over your eyes as he led you somewhere. You giggled, excited to see what he had in store for your date.

He removes his hand, shouting a dorky "Ta-Daaaa!", gesturing to a blanket laid out underneath a tree with a picnic basket. "Aww, Steven we're having a picnic?" He smiles awkwardly and nods. "Yeah well, I thought, well, since it's our second date I thought, well maybe, we could watch the sunset and eat?", he stumbles over his words as he talks, which you find endearing.

"That sounds lovely, Steven", you say with a wide smile on your face. He gestures for you to sit down, which you do. He sits down next to you, not too far away but not too close either, as though he was worried you'd be upset if he was too close.

He takes out the food he brought with a goofy smile on his face. "Well, let's eat!"

~

You sit back against the tree, Steven next to you. "That meal was amazing, thank you Steven" he nods, a wide smile on his face. "Yeah, well, I had help! Layla seems to know how to cook and I don't so.." he trails off, as though there didn't need to be any further explanation. You nod, "Well tell Layla I said thank you!"

Although you two had gotten closer throughout the date, Steven still seemed anxious and he kept his distance. Deciding to take matters into your own hands, you intertwine your hand with his and cuddle into his side. Steven lets out a quiet "oh" as you do this, his body tense. When he realizes you aren't going to move he relaxes into you.

"So", you start, "Tell me more about your interests! I wanna know more about you!" Steven looks surprised for a moment, but he slowly starts talking. "Well, I like literature, specifically poems. I like uhm, animals, they're cool, some are gross though. Like dung beetles, what's wrong with dung beetles, why do they exist? I hate dung beetles."

You smile, encouraging him to go on.

"Well uhm, oh! You already know this but I love ancient Egypt, oh it's bloody amazing! Did you know that the ancient Egyptians believed that semen was akin to poison?"

You laugh at his odd info dump, "No, I didn't know that, tell me more!" he grins, extremely excited to spew out information. "Yeah! Although semen was considered potent, masturbation was considered a holy ritual that would bring good fortune to their land." you quirk an eyebrow at this, "Why do you know all this?" you ask skeptically. "Oh, well I read it! Yeah, there's a ton of books on this stuff, I can let you borrow them if you'd like!" his eyes gleamed with such happiness that you couldn't say no. "For sure! I'd love that!"

Steven begins to say something else, but then he gasps, "Look, look!" he points towards the horizon, "The sun is setting! Oh wow it's beautiful!"

You both look towards the sunset, hand in hand, and all you can think of is, "Hey Steven, what should we do for our next date?"

note: still not proofread, I'm lazy <3

[royalreef]

The distance to Miranda's leg down from her shoulder was, perhaps, a longer trip than would have been expected for literally anything else, and the journey was such a downward slope that Ava would have had to lean down to touch Miranda's leg proper, instead of just her back or the top of her hips or the sides of her body.

Her legs, too, were short. Perhaps comically short, considering her usual company, but unexpectedly short, a short that did not leave questions as to itself. They were the same length as her arms, after all, and those in comparison did not feel so terribly miniaturized. The distance between her shoulder and her hip exceeded the length of her arms, meaning Miranda would not be able to reach back to touch her legs without bending some other part of her body. So too, that meant it was a stretch just to reach back up, to find Miranda's hand.

As it was, the top of Miranda's hips would have sat just below a human's hips, and if she were to lean down, to touch her hands upon the ground like how her body seemed more and more likely to be intended for, then she would have been about thigh-high. With her legs sat under her body, as precariously as they were, it was quite a while to go to reach them.

Her legs, like her arms, were thick, stocky. Muscular in equal measure, coming off from her body like the hind legs of a crocodile, and made even thicker by the membrane that ran up the sides of her legs, likewise matching with her arms. They weren't plainly visible like her arms or her shoulders were, wearing an outfit that connected to her neck and stretched over her front, leaving much of her upper back exposed, but there was a distance of bare scales that could be seen below her pants legs. The membrane, the same as her arm, was thick, decorated at the edge with a strip of the same creamy yellow as her fins, with a parallel line on top of the leg itself. More than mere skin, it had to have perhaps fat or keratin inside of it, making it stiffer and thicker, so that the transition off of her muscular limbs wasn't so drastic.

It moved down, maybe connecting somewhere to her foot or to the side of her leg, impossible to tell over her shoes. On her hands, the matching membrane, turning the silhouette of her arm into a proper fin akin to that of a whale or a marine reptile, connected to her first and third digit, so, following the theme, it was likely to match. However, first Ava would have to get the shoes off of Miranda to see, and Miranda had not spoke of that permission being granted yet.

Her shoes were interesting, however. Much like the rest of her clothes, they were tailored and fashioned primarily for her body first, which belied certain underlying differences. Miranda's shoes were wide and multi-part, intended to be able to spread or to move in closer, even if the thicker material needed for this time of year meant limitations. They connected together into one surface, not suggesting how many digits she had, but it looked like she could move them, and perhaps even needed to spread them out for traction or balance. The shoe sat her ankles against the ground, so she was plantigrade, not digitigrade. There were pinched ends, points with textured rubber wrapped around them, where there were likely claws beneath, so those too were probably needed as a vital component of movement. There were four of these points spread evenly, so suggesting each digit had a matching claw, that would mean four digits per foot.

Miranda's hand suggested a little more to what her foot might have looked like. She had five digits there, standard, but two of those digits had been converted into opposable thumbs, the first digit and the fifth. That left three digits in the middle, the fingers which the membrane of her arms connected to, although they had no webbing between them. The thumbs, by contrast, seemed to almost tuck beneath the outline of her hand and the membrane-fins, making them hard to see from the outside, while the fingers sat closer together to each other in a singular shape. All suggested streamlining, but did not solve the mystery of her hands, and why Miranda had something so derived instead of a more typical fin like other aquatic organisms.

Each digit was short and thick, muscular in a way eerily reminiscent of a harpy eagle's. The expected tetrapod condition was present, with the expected number of bones to each finger, the last converted into a claw with a bony core and a keratin sheathe. This was where the comparison felt most apt. Each claw was massive, easily the length of someone else's finger, thick as a bear's and sweeping inwards with a wicked curve. Hooked, even. Each pointed inwards, towards the palm, so that if Miranda curled her hand into a fist, it would all fit together into a cage, trapping anything that happened to be too slow to escape. Even though Miranda held her hand loosely, idly letting Ava examine her without a large amount of fuss, the size and thickness of her hands suggested very few things could escape in time. Even worse to what happened to anything that could not. Miranda's claws, more uniquely, perhaps, looked a little overgrown, further past her quick than expected, but nothing unusual.

Furthermore came another point of comparison, though this one was a stranger one. There were pads on Miranda's palm and across the underside of all of her digits — one behind each of the five claws, one below that on the digits, one where each of the thumbs connected to her palm paralleling the other, and one in the middle of her hand below where the digits connected to her palm. They were large, squishy, like pressing down into a stress toy. It was even a little fun to do so, though the fatty pads represented their own mystery.

The back side of her hands was thickly plated with scales, looking the very most like armor, wrapping around the top of her hands like she was expecting someone to stab them. On her palms, the scales grew smaller, as expected. However, on the pads sitting on her palms, they grew in a strange pattern, which was especially odd, because her palms were the softest part of her so far. They were silky, soft to the touch, suggesting no obvious use and nothing that would make sense in tandem with the cage of her claws. These scales barely provided any texture, no great addition on top of the underlying skin, and the patterns that they grew in were peaked and pointed in zigzag patterns, not providing any more answers.

Miranda, less curious about her own body than Ava, leaned her head down and back to follow her, more interested in keeping watch over where she was touching. It meant her head bent more to the side, body slightly leaning forward and closer to the ground, her other arm lifting up and pressing closer to her chest, perhaps for balance.

If she was having any issue about having a harpy feel her up, then Miranda wasn't saying it, remaining with a strange, nearly befuddled little smile. Maybe she wasn't having issues, but it was odd. Especially now that she was patting her through her clothes, although Ava hadn't reached anywhere inappropriate, not yet. If anything, it was almost stranger for how much closer this resembled, to Miranda, her experience of knowing other merfolk and the way that they would touch her, pressing hands down against her body and holding her close, solely out of sheer friendliness.

"Yes — well, I do, less so of my people as a whole. Blue light, so you should be able to see, but it is not very strong compared to...." Miri dipped her head up and to the side in a sort of quick shrug, trying to gesture to the daylight itself. "Not as though it needs to be as strong, when it is easier to see down there."

Even just a single touch, gently running a talon across muscle and scale, told Ava volumes. Osteoderms, a powerful and streamlined form... it all made sense for a seagoing apex predator. It was interesting, how differently the two of them had evolved: Ava had become more humanoid than any other bird, while Miranda--part of a species that was popularized in myths as having a humanoid upper body--was anything but. She had a sudden desire to see Miranda in her own element, cutting through the water with ease and... snatching up fish, she supposed? Maybe that was just because she was hungry, though. Mmmm, fish...

She was getting ahead of herself, though. The harpy ran her hand down Miranda's leg, glancing up to meet her gaze briefly and make sure she wasn't overstepping any boundaries. She didn't want the merfolk to think she was just petting her like a giant cat or something.

"Interesting... that makes sense, though. Oh, do have any form of bioluminescence, too? Within the visible light spectrum, anyway." Ava's eyesight was good, but not so good that she could see into infrared or anything. "I imagine that would be very useful in the ocean depths."

Confident that she had no way of accidentally hurting the well-armored merfolk, Ava added a second hand to the exploration, gently patting Miranda's own clawed hand.