#O: GHOST MOTH

[namelessmm2]

morningcrocodoodles art challenge

7 stories + 8 hocus pocus / 9 ouija + 10 pentagram / 11 spell + 12 ghost

[magicalshopping]

♡ Witchy Halloween Sticker Pack by Elviras Prints ♡

[quarterlifekitty]

More Silk Moth Hybrid!Reader? 👉👈

The VERY unrealistic results of the poll lol warning this has been read only by me and my crazy eyes so it’s like barely edited

König hates being put in this situation. The one day he visits base it’s insisted that he stay for a meeting by one of his superiors. A private meeting between him and some of the other high-rank officers. He grits his teeth.

You’re not allowed to accompany him. He has yet to organize any paperwork regarding your necessity at his side. This certainly lights a fire under him on that front. But in the meantime, he needs you watched. And Horangi will be at the meeting too.

Despite their apparent shared love of anonymity, König has little fondness for Ghost. They certainly aren’t friends, though he’ll readily admit to the man’s competence in the field.

“I require a favor, if you are agreeable, lieutenant.” His dark gaze lands on the Austrian before drifting down when there a flutter in his peripheral.

“I’m assumin’ it’s got somethin’ to do with… that, yeah?” He tilts his head to gesture to where you stand, holding König’s wrist and keeping a cheek pressed to the back of his gloved hand.

“Correct.”

It’s not hard for Ghost to intuit what’s being asked, here.

“How long?”

“Two and a half hours maximum. Likely less than 90.”

“Soap’ll be in from his drills in a bit,” he warns.

“Das ist in ordnung. I trust you can make him behave.” König lifts you from beneath your arms, tucking you to sit on his forearm while he speaks quietly.

“Geist will watch over you, seidenmotte. Sei brav, ja?” You nod, kissing his cheek through the fabric of his hood before he sets you down. He still hates this. You haven’t been away from him for more than 30 minutes since he first met you.

König gives a curt, respectful nod before he leaves, making his way towards the meeting room. He doesn’t look back, because seeing you will make him weak and unfocused— this much, he knows. He’ll find it harder to resist the urge to scoop you up and take you home.

Not ten minutes later, Soap almost squeals when he opens the door into the rec area. He sees you perched on the couch next to Simon while he taps away on his phone, squinting at something, as per usual.

“And who is this wee little thing, LT? Y’get lonely while I was out?”

———————-

It doesn’t take long at all for Johnny to get his hands all over you. You kneel on his thighs as he sits next to Simon, grinning as he ruffles through the fuzz at your collar. He’s suffering from some serious cuteness overload. Your wing flutter as he pulls you closer to plant kisses on your cheeks.

“How’re y’not beside yerself right now, Si? Just look at ‘er. What a bonnie, sweet thing. Aren’t ye, hen? That’s right,” he coos, sighing at the pleased little trill that comes out of you.

“Got plenty o’ hybrids round ‘ere, Johnny. Ain’t nothin’ new.” Dog hybrids, maybe.

“C’mon now, LT, you know this is a wee bit different….” He lets you play with his dog tags while he looks at you thoughtfully before turning to Ghost, grinning like a right devil. “Y’think she’s needy like the pups are, Si?”

—————————-

Your legs are spread on Simon’s lap while Soap’s face is between your thighs, watching with interest as your cunt swallows his finger. He presses a kiss to your clit and grins when you squeak a little.

“She can handle more,” Simon urges quietly, “she fuckin’ handles König for chrissakes.”

“You reckon she does? Do ye, bonnie?” Soap’s a bit stunned when you nod.

“Not the whole thing,” König mutters from the doorway. Soap is not proud of how not masculine the sound of surprise he makes is.

“Hold her legs. She kicks when it gets too much.”

Simon follows the advice, keeping you held by the ankles with his chin perched on your shoulder, watching Soap between her legs. Your wings flutter against his chest when Johnny latches onto you fully, sucking at your swollen little pearl and rolling it against his tongue. Ghost can feel your leg try to twitch in his grasp.

“Meine süße kleine seidenmotte…” König coos, standing behind Soap to watch you. “I trust there were no issues,” he says with polite regard to Ghost.

“She’s an angel, Colonel,” Johnny chuckles against your cunt, curling his finger enough to make you quiver.

“It’s not her behavior I was worried about, sergeant,” König admits with a quiet tiredness in his voice. Ghost can feel a shiver going up your spine, making you squirm and push your ass against his hard cock. “Cum on his mouth, liebe. Show him how sweet you are.”

Ghost has to admit, even through the mask it’s nice to rub his face into your fluff. You arch your back against him and let out another string of darling, pitchy cries as you soak Soap’s face. The sergeant spends a few moments cleaning you with his mouth before pulling away and licking his chops, stubble glistening. König makes a clicking sound with his tongue, beckoning, and you crawl off of Simon’s lap with shaky legs, leaving his cock achingly hard in your wake.

Simon’s puzzled face is hidden by his mask as he dusts the glittery scales from your wings off of his hoodie.

König grabs the hem of your sweater and pulls it up, letting your tits free. “She’ll finish what was started, if you like.”

Which is how you end up between three men towering above you. Ghost taps your cheek with his cock, smearing some pre against it before placing it at your lips to push into your mouth. Your little hand is wrapped around Soap’s length, and he’s struggling to resist thrusting against your soft palm like a teenager. König stands behind you, slightly hunched so he can cup and thumb at your tits.

You can’t take all of Ghost, but he’s pleasantly surprised at how far you get, stroking what you can’t reach with your lips.

“You trainin’ ‘er, Colonel?” he wonders aloud, stroking your cheek and staring back into your big, black eyes.

“Ja. Almost daily. She’s made quite a bit of progress… always eager to push herself. Isn’t that right, kleine siedenmotte?”

You purr around Simon’s cock in response, lathing your tongue over his shaft. Soap puts his hand on your cheek, gently pulling you away and guiding you towards himself. He can feel the watchful gaze of the Austrian titan on his hand, and he can swear he’s never been so careful in his fucking life.

“Sharin’s carin’, LT. C’mon, bonnie, be sweet on me fer a spell,” he murmurs. He groans loudly when he feels the warmth spit against his cock as you slick him up before taking him into your mouth.

Simon and Soap pass you back and forth like that, your head swimming from the taste of them. König’s hands roaming your skin don’t do anything to ease the rising tensions, sucking and moaning harder when your sensitive nipples are tugged and played with.

“Fuck, hen— want me t’paint that pretty face with my load, bonnie?”

You nod and moan with a quiet mhm, pulling your mouth away from him to stroke him off with both hands. He grunts, a deep, pleased sound coming from his chest as he grips your hair to keep you still, his cum landing against your cheeks and lips. You’re quickly tugged back to attend to Ghost as soon as he’s finished— the lieutenant’s patience clearly waning.

“You can push her a little harder. Show Geist how grateful you are for him looking after you, liebe,” König encourages, his hand finding the back of her head to guide you deeper into Simon’s cock, his tip dipping further into your throat. You gag, but keep your head still, just trying to swallow through it and breathe.

“Shit— s’a good little bird,” Ghost nearly chokes, his hips bucking. Your wings start to beat a little as you struggle to handle him, spit leaking from your lips and dripping down your chin, onto your chest. Another harsh stutter of his hips and he’s growling, a fist in your hair as he spills his load into your tight little throat. You swallow and trill, leaving his cock shiny with your saliva as you pull yourself off on him.

“Ser gut, mottechen. Always doing just as I say, ja? Ein perfekter angel,” König praises, taking you back into his arms to pick up. He pulls and smooths your sweater back into place carefully.

“I am in your debt, Lieutenant. Feel free to call upon me.” God, König hopes he fucking doesn’t. Part of why he picked Ghost for this— knows the man won’t make any interpersonal interaction into more than momentary.

“Sure he’d be right happy t’babysit for ye again, Colonel. Bring the wee thing back around here sometime, won’t ye?”

“Perhaps,” he says noncommittally. With another curt nod, he’s off. You put your chin on your titan’s shoulder, looking back at the two of them and waving goodbye. Soap feels like he’s been hit with Cupid’s arrow.

“So cute, in’t she? Oughta get somethin’ like that for m’self,” Johnny sighs, clapping his Lieutenant on the shoulder.

“I wouldn’t trust you with a cactus, Johnny.”

[katz-chow]

hey 😏

MY TURN TO REQUEST 😈

how do you think Ghost would feel about his s/o who hates being touched but only allows him to touch them??? 😋😊

touchy feelies

warnings: gn! reader, combat medic! reader, gn!reader, pinning, a bit of mental exhaustion & guilt, self hair pulling

simon flinches if he’s caught off guard on base when someone gives him a friendly tap. even if it’s just soap who ends up giving him a friendly tap. he knows why that is, he just refuses to acknowledge it.

so when it comes to you, precious you, he gets it. he sees the way you side eye someone when they put a hand on your shoulder and how you shrug it off. he sees the way you avoid hugs like the plague. he sees you give weak smiles in exchange for pats on the back. he sees it all, he sees you.

the first time that you let him touch you, you both were skittish as can be. it was a simple fist bump but he knows it meant a lot to you. it was symbolic even. you initiated it, and thank god because simon would never push any boundaries, he wouldn't want it himself. it was simple really; a mission done well, you both staying alive with no major injuries, it was pretty ideal. as you both were about to land on the air-evac, you turn to him, a grin on your lips, "good to be alive sometimes huh?"

simon stared at you and your fist raised up a bit, he gulped but goddamnit, he couldn't resist it. he bumped his fist into yours and that alone made the both of you giggle on the inside like a crushing schoolgirl.

soap stared in utter confusion.

the next time you let him touch you was in the medical bay. you weren't broken, physically at least, but having to be on your feet all day with the weight of all those lives you couldn't save made you sick. it usually doesn't make itself known, today was just not a good day. simon was on his way to hit the showers when he walked past the open door, seeing you hunched over a crash cart, your head in your hands. the grip on your hair tightened and you looked just about to pull it all out.

he couldn't control his feet but soon he found himself backtracking and knocking on the door to get your attention. his body was attracted to you, drawn to you like a moth to a flame. he was hesitant when you looked up at him, awaiting what he had to say. soon he was a mere two steps besides you. you stood up a bit straighter, head lifted and eyes focused on him.

his hand found your back, lighting touching your camis. "you're doing good, kid"

you don't know why but you didn't hate his touch, it was a good warmth. you stared at him. you tried to breathe it all in, and soon you found yourself breathing him in, a hug that you actually wanted for once. physical touch was new to the both of you, it was awkward, arms loosely around each other, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

the next morning he saw you just about barked at someone trying to throw an arm around your shoulders for a picture. he laughed to himself, a bubbly feeling in his chest.

[prophecyoflunarflame]

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO KIBISHI NO GRIMM NO WAAAH

Me saying goodbye to grimmchild before destroying the troupe

[perplexingly]

yesterday I witnesses a moth trying to pick a fight with little ghost O:

[teratosfavouritesnack]

Hi can you do a part 2 of the ghost lover boy? Like Y/n is being repeatly being bratty and the ghost starts punishing her but of course she cant see him because he's invisible?

Hiii dear, thank you for your request and sorry for the late reply! I already had half an idea how to continue this story but I tried to mix it with your suggestion. Hopefully you like it 💜

ghost x afab!human - bratty behaviour (kinda), ghost creature doing ghost things, p in v, mirror sex, use of ghost hunting tools, it talks!!! :o

ORIGINAL POST <-

You were wrong. The ghost was no lover boy, just a prankster through and through.

You don’t know exactly how you expected the dynamic to evolve after the events of that day, but you certainly didn’t think it would change so drastically and… not really for the better.

Has this been its intention from the very start? To harass you, play with you and your emotions until you surrendered and offered yourself to it , only to then take it all away? Has it only been having some fun with you and did not in fact care about you at all?

You wish you had an explanation for its sudden disappearance, but you don’t. And you’re so upset about it. So upset that you can’t find peace in your own four walls, because everything makes you think of it and all its stupid pranks. So upset, you can’t even find pleasure in touching yourself anymore because you can’t fuck your cunt the same way its fingers have, you can’t recapture that tingly, almost electricity-charged pressure you felt inside you when it pounded your hole with its hand, no matter how much you attempt to.

You’re losing your mind. It can't just give you a taste of something so delicious and addicting and then take it away a second later! It’s not fair! You need to catch its attention again, try however you can. You exasperate the things that always induced it to harass you; unashamedly bending over the furniture and waiting for it to grind against you, pushing your ass in the air as much as humanly possible whenever you’re doing the laundry, spending a longer time in the shower box hoping it would join you, walking naked around the house more times than not to give it easy access to every inch of you… You do anything to get it to touch you again but nothing seems to work. It’s as if it has completely vanished, as if it’s gone for good from your house. But somehow, you know it ’s still there. You can feel it. Watching you. Maybe laughing at you, at how desperate you look and act. It ’s mocking you, you’re sure.

Resentment merges with desperation, pushing you to buy some of those fancy gadgets paranormal investigators use on their hunts. You place sensors throughout the house and always carry a spirit box on you. You’ll catch its invisible and elusive ass one day or another, you’re sure! To what end? You don't truly know. You didn't think things through. Perhaps you just want to take a win over the ghost, instead. Annoy it, as it has done to you. But as the days pass, the sensors don’t pick up any signal, the spirit box is dead silent and you feel bluer than ever. All is calm...

Until it isn’t.

You invite people over, something you learnt in the past the ghost does not like in the slightest. But the ghost isn't around anymore, is it? You have no reason to be concerned about what it likes or not.

Except you have, because it is still here. Hiding so well from all your stupid tools. Pissed off by their presence, yet even more by the strangers you allowed inside its home. Especially that one fool who seems to orbit around you like a moth to a flame. It hasn't been this displeased in ages, and it can't keep itself hidden any longer. It needs to reclaim its possessions.

The sensors go off all at once, causing everyone to jump in their seats. You told your friends about your haunted house before, but no one believed you; now they all do as the lights go crazy and all kinds of trash is thrown in their faces, forcing everyone to rush to the exit.

Everyone except you.

You’re shocked… but also delighted. You secretly wished something like this might happen. You hoped that disregarding its desires would lead to retaliation. And when you feel that familiar thrilling touch on you again, oh you are ecstatic! Its grasp is a little rougher this time, as it grabs you around the waist and drags you all the way to your bedroom. All the way in front of your large mirror, where you watch your clothes come undone, ripped by unseen fretting hands. Where you can see one of your legs pulled off the ground and your hole stretched open by... nothing. It's mind-boggling to feel so stuffed while being unable to gaze upon the thing that makes your sensitive walls throb so desperately. When it starts to move, you realize it is the ghost who's inside you, with its cock swallowed to the hilt by your cunt. The sensation is unbelievable, so blissful, and unlike anything you've ever experienced before. You don't have any words to describe it. And even if you did, you'd forget all of them. Your mind goes blank when you feel its hand seize your jaw and turn your head downward, forcing you to stare at your hole spreading open and shrinking again as it pushes its length all the way into and then out of you in slow but deep thrusts.

Is this a punishment? Is this a reward? Is this a way to claim you as its own? To make you realize that it is in charge.That it can toy with you anytime it wants, and you have no say in the matter. Whatever does this mean... You do not care. You only care about the pleasure rising in your lower belly, the heat pervading your entire body, the exquisite pressure you feel in your womb as its cock finds that precious spot deep inside you, with one arm wrapped possessively around your waist and the other keeping your leg up.

You’re so out of it, so lost in seeking your release that your ears almost bypass the robotic beep coming from your pants, sprawled at your feet. However, the disembodied voice that follows reverberates through your entire being, instantly pushing you over the edge with a muted scream.

"Pretty. . . . Cunt. . . . All. . . . Mine. . . . . Taking. . . . Me. . . . So. . . . .Well. . . . . Made. . . . For. . . . Me."

You hope it will never leave you again, but if it does... Well, now you know how to make it come out again.

 🪷. You can leave me a tip on ko-fi if you want to support me

[theodorenmyth]

T.N & D.M being overprotective towards their gn!s/o because they're the softest, kindest cinammon roll to ever be sorted into Slytherin house?

Slytherin Protectors

Pairings : Draco Malfoy x GN! Reader x Theodore Nott

Summary : In the labyrinthine halls of Hogwarts, you stand out as the kind-hearted Slytherin, captivating the hearts of Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott. Their fierce protectiveness often contrasts with your gentle nature, but when a trip to Hogsmeade raises their concerns, you realize just how deep their devotion runs. Through laughter, vigilance, and unwavering camaraderie, you navigate the complexities of the lovelies and loyalty in the house of serpents, knowing that with Draco and Theodore by your side, you can face anything.

A/n : Bye I'm flopping so hard rn 😭 ITS OKAY THO, Enjoy! (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

Warnings) : nothing

Word count : 1.1k+

The ancient halls of Hogwarts seemed to breathe magic and secrets, the torches flickering with an almost mischievous life of their own. As the only Slytherin who could melt even the hardest hearts with a simple smile, you stood out in the sea of cunning ambition that characterized your house. And despite the house's reputation, you'd managed to capture the hearts of two of the most influential boys: Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott. It wasn’t something you set out to do, but your kindness and warmth drew them in like moths to a flame.

Your days often involved navigating the complicated dynamics of Slytherin house, all while maintaining your unwavering kindness. You’d just helped a first-year find their way to Potions when you felt a familiar presence sidle up beside you.

“Y/N, you’re going to spoil them,” Draco’s smooth drawl brought a smile to your face.

Turning to face him, you saw the familiar smirk playing on his lips, but his eyes held a softness reserved only for you. “Spoiling? I’m just helping out. Not everyone knows their way around like you do, Draco.”

Draco shook his head, chuckling. “You’re too good for this place, you know that?”

Before you could respond, Theodore appeared on your other side, his expression as unreadable as ever. “What did they do now?” he asked, eyes darting between you and Draco.

“Just being their charming self,” you teased, nudging Draco gently with your shoulder.

Theodore’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile. “Well, let’s get you to the common room before anyone else needs your rescuing. Merlin knows you can’t help saving everyone.”

The three of you walked through the dungeons, your conversation a comfortable blend of banter and genuine concern. Draco and Theodore often played the role of overprotective guardians, always watching out for you in their own ways.

As you approached the Slytherin common room, the familiar hiss of the stone wall opening up welcomed you. Inside, the atmosphere was as cool and dark as ever, but it was your boyfriends’ presence that made it feel like home.

“Alright, Y/N,” Draco said, his tone shifting to something more serious, “we need to talk about this weekend.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What about it?”

Theodore leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “There’s a trip to Hogsmeade, and we want to make sure you’re safe.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Safe? I’ll be with you two, won’t I? What could possibly happen?”

Draco’s expression didn’t waver. “It’s not just about that. You attract attention, Y/N. Good and bad. We just want to be prepared.”

Your laughter faded as you realized they were genuinely concerned. “I appreciate it, really. But I can take care of myself.”

“We know you can,” Theodore said, his voice softening. “But we’d rather not take any chances.”

You sighed, knowing it was pointless to argue. “Fine, fine. What’s the plan then?”

The boys exchanged a glance before Draco spoke up. “We’ll stick together, obviously. But we’ll also keep an eye out for anyone who seems... off.”

“And if anyone tries anything,” Theodore added, his eyes narrowing, “they’ll regret it.”

You smiled, touched by their protectiveness. “Alright, I’m on board. But you two need to promise not to be too overbearing.”

Draco placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Us? Overbearing? Never.”

Theodore snorted. “We’ll try our best. But no promises.”

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The next few days passed in a blur of classes and studying, with Draco and Theodore rarely leaving your side. Their vigilance was almost amusing, but you couldn’t deny the comfort it brought. Finally, the weekend arrived, and with it, the much-anticipated trip to Hogsmeade.

As the three of you made your way down the bustling streets, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of normalcy. You popped into Honeydukes, picking out your favorite sweets while Draco and Theodore hovered nearby, their eyes constantly scanning the crowd.

“You know,” you said, grabbing a handful of chocolate frogs, “you two look like bodyguards.”

“Good,” Theodore replied, his gaze never leaving the entrance. “That’s the idea.”

Draco leaned in closer, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Think of us as your personal security detail.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless. “Alright, alright. Let’s head to The Three Broomsticks. I’m craving some butterbeer.”

The pub was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the chilly weather outside. You found a cozy corner booth, and soon enough, Madam Rosmerta brought over three frothy mugs of butterbeer. You took a sip, savoring the sweet, warming liquid.

“So, how’s everyone enjoying the trip so far?” you asked, looking at your companions.

Draco grinned. “It’s been... eventful.”

Theodore just nodded, his expression serious. “So far, so good. But we’re not letting our guard down.”

You shook your head, chuckling. “You two are something else.”

As the afternoon wore on, you found yourself relaxing more, the warm atmosphere and pleasant company making you forget about any potential threats. But Draco and Theodore never truly let their guard down, their eyes always moving, always watching.

When it was time to head back to the castle, you linked arms with both of them, feeling a surge of affection for your overprotective boyfriends. “Thank you, both of you. For looking out for me.”

Draco’s expression softened. “Always, Y/N. Always.”

Theodore squeezed your arm gently. “We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As you walked back to Hogwarts, the setting sun casting a golden glow over the grounds, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky. Despite the house’s reputation, you’d found a family in Slytherin. And with Draco and Theodore by your side, you knew you could face anything.

The journey back was filled with laughter and light teasing, the boys' protective nature now mingled with the easy camaraderie you all shared. When you finally reached the castle, the three of you paused at the entrance, the imposing structure of Hogwarts standing tall and welcoming.

“Well,” you said, turning to face them, “another successful trip, wouldn’t you say?”

Draco smirked, his usual confidence returning. “Of course. We had it all under control.”

Theodore just smiled, a rare but genuine expression. “Let’s get inside before we attract more attention.”

As you walked through the familiar halls, the evening’s events still fresh in your mind, you felt a sense of peace. With Draco and Theodore looking out for you, Hogwarts felt less like a maze of dangers and more like a place where you could truly be yourself.

And as you settled into the common room, surrounded by the people you love and the comforting green and silver of Slytherin house, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you’d face them together.

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Skeletorus Spider: this species of jumping spider was named after the cartoon villain, Skeletor, because the males are covered in black-and-white markings that resemble the bones of a skeleton

This species is found only in Queensland, Australia, where it was first discovered by a PhD student named Madeline Girard back in 2015. Inspired by the black-and-white markings that cover the spider's body, Girard decided to give it the name "Skeletorus," after the cartoon villain known as Skeletor. The scientific name of this species is Maratus sceletus.

According to Dr. Jürgen Otto, who co-authored the article in which this species was first described:

[Skeletorus] looks dramatically different from all other peacock spiders known to date, making me think that this group is perhaps much more diverse than we had thought.

Jumping spiders of this genus (Maratus) are commonly referred to as "peacock spiders," and they're famous for their charming and elaborate courtship dances, which differ from one species to the next. You can watch footage of the mating dance for this particular species here.

About a year ago, I was doing background research for some of my other animal posts when I started noticing that there are a lot of interesting (but often obscure) animals that have "Halloween-like" features, including orange-and-black patterns and markings that look just like skulls, jack-o-lanterns, skeletons, or ghosts; I started keeping track of those "Halloween animals" so that I could post the most unique examples in the weeks leading up to Halloween, and over the course of the last year, I've added more than 150 different species to that list, including moths, beetles, birds, spiders, bats, squirrels, and snails, among other things.

So far, I've written posts about the painted woolly bat (Kerivoula picta) and the skeletorus spider (Maratus sceletus), but I'll probably post more "Halloween animals" later this month.

Sources & More Info:

Sci News: Two New Species of Peacock Spiders Discovered in Australia

Peckhamia Scientific Journal: Two New Peacock Spiders of the Calcitrans Group from Southern Queensland (PDF)

National Geographic: Behold Sparklemuffin and Skeletorus, New Peacock Spiders

Animal Diversity Web: Genus Maratus

[eksvaized]

Part One [ Previous 〡 Next ]

“Stop. Moving.” Ghost commanded, his voice low, gruff, and demanding. Each syllable dripped with an authority that was hard to ignore.

“But I can’t get comfortable,” you protested, your voice softer, almost meek in comparison. You shifted again, trying to find a suitable position in his lap.

“I don’t care. Just stop,” Ghost continued, his voice maintaining that low, stern tone that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. His warm breath brushed against your sensitive skin, sending a cascade of shivers tumbling down your spine each time he exhaled. Despite his simple orders, you couldn’t stop sliding down his legs. Your dress kept creeping up your thighs, revealing the delicate flesh beneath with each involuntary move.

If you’d been facing Ghost, you’d have glimpsed the shadows of desire darkening his gaze, a silent thunderstorm brewing as his eyes traced the contours of your legs. You would have caught him in a stolen moment, picturing what it would be like to bury his face in between your thighs, to taste you, to feel you writhing beneath him. His fingers twitched, longing to touch you, to feel your skin beneath his. He wished he could make you squirm and hear your moans—he wished he could tease and torment you the way you teased him.

However, the only problem was that you were not doing it intentionally. At least, that’s what he assumed. After all, you were his friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

Yet, you were his guilty pleasure, a forbidden fruit he couldn’t taste. You were the last thought that crossed his mind before he surrendered to sleep and the first one that greeted him when he woke up. Of course, he would never admit these feelings aloud, as if their utterance would shatter the fragile facade he had constructed. And he would certainly never confess any of this to you. Chasing girls and being in a relationship were not his top priorities; he had other more important things to focus on. He didn’t want to be tied down by commitments. But it didn’t stop him from fantasising about what it would be like to have you for just one night. To see you with your hands bound above your head, laying in his bed, begging him to touch you.

After all, he was only a man. A man with primal desires and urges that demanded to be satisfied. But he was also your lieutenant, your superior. Plus, there was the fact that you were significantly younger than him. So, despite the magnetic pull that you unknowingly exerted, an unseen force that drew him towards you like a moth to a flame, he had made a solemn vow to himself. He would never lose control, he would never give in...

As the vehicle jolted around another sharp turn, a grunt of dissatisfaction escaped your lips. This was the umpteenth time you had to readjust your position: an inconvenience you honestly could do without. Especially since you were growing increasingly aware of the prickling tension. Carefully, you hoisted yourself up, tugging your dress back down, which had rebelliously hitched up, revealing more than intended.

Ghost, on the other hand, was locked in a silent battle of his own. His eyes clenched shut like a fortress under siege. He took in a deep, measured breath as if diving into an ocean of calm, striving to divert his attention from the growing heat in his body. The dangerously close proximity to you was playing a tantalizing game with his self-control.

“Stop moving, Y/N,” Ghost found himself repeating the same phrase he had been uttering for the past quarter of an hour. He had initially attempted to keep his hands to himself, but your constant movement and readjustments made that task increasingly difficult. Now, you could feel his palms subtly creeping up your sides until they found a resting spot at your waist. His fingers dug into your flesh, providing a sense of stability amid the chaotic drive.

“I can’t. I keep slipping,” you sighed in response, the frustration apparent in your tone. His hands, however, remained steadfast on your waist, anchoring you in his lap.

The day had started off on a rather laid back note. With a day free from duty, your team had decided to make the most of it by heading out for some drinks. It was a welcome change, a chance to let loose before the seriousness of the next mission took over. The journey to the pub was divided between two cars. Soap and Gaz were entrusted to stay sober and ensure everyone made it back safely. But Gaz had broken that promise, leaving everyone to squeeze into one car on the way back to the base.

The lack of sufficient seating meant that you, being the smallest (though you vehemently argued that it was unjust criteria), ended up in Ghost’s lap. You hadn’t anticipated it to be a significant issue. But with his continuous complaints ringing in your ear, you couldn’t help but wish you had opted to walk back instead.

As the drive wore on, Ghost’s fingers, like a sculptor’s chisel on marble, etched deeper into your waist, creating a discomfort that was becoming difficult to ignore. To ease it, you placed your hands on his wrists and attempted to gently tug at them, hoping to soften his grip. Despite your attempts, though, he resisted, maintaining his firm hold on you.

With little option left, you slumped back, surrendering to the pull of gravity. Your body to nestled comfortably into Ghost’s chest. Your head rested on his broad shoulders, providing a sense of comfort as the vehicle continued to traverse the gravel roads. Approximately fifteen minutes remained before you would reach the base.

Ghost, seemingly perplexed by your actions, turned to face you. “What are you doing?” He asked, his voice echoing through the confined space. In response, you tilted your head slightly as well, allowing your eyes to meet his. However, your gaze soon drifted downwards, towards his mask, as you found yourself unable to maintain the eye contact.

“Getting comfortable,” you replied, your voice just a whisper. The tendrils of fatigue began to curl around you. Your eyelids fluttered closed, each blink growing heavier and heavier.

The car fell silent.

As you sat there, embraced by Ghost’s arms, you could feel his breath on your neck. The steady, rhythmic rise, and fall of his chest acted as a soothing lullaby, luring you towards the edge of sleep. You knew you should have fought to stay awake, but his body radiated warmth, providing a stark contrast to the exhaustion that had washed over you from the evening’s festivities of dancing and drinking. Before you knew it, you had drifted off, your nose nuzzled into the crook of Ghost’s neck.

Caught up in his own thoughts, he didn’t immediately realise that you had succumbed to sleep. It wasn’t until the car came to a gentle halt that he felt something moist against the side of his mask. You had drooled all over him. A groan of disbelief rumbled in his chest as he shook his head in disbelief.

“Y/N... Y/N.. wake up.” His voice was quiet, a softness that was uncharacteristic of him. He contemplated grabbing your shoulders and shaking you awake, but decided against it, knowing that you were not one to take kindly to abrupt awakenings. Instead, he allowed you to continue sleeping for a bit longer, listening as you muttered incoherently to yourself, your eyes tightly shut.

Emerging from the clutches of sleep was like wading through a sea of molasses, slow and laborious. But eventually, both of you managed to exit the car. By this time, the rest of the team had already scattered, leaving just the two of you.

You rubbed your face, coaxing the tiredness out of your muscles like wringing out a wet cloth, and yawned. Your weary eyes swept over the barren expanse of the parking lot.

“You drooled on me,” Ghost said, his gaze steady on you. Caught off guard, you raised your brows but chose to remain silent in a futile attempt to maintain your cool demeanor. However, your face betrayed you as it started to radiate heat and your cheeks blossomed with a rosy blush, turning a bright shade of pink. This unexpected display of embarrassment stood in stark contrast to your usual composed self.

In the midst of the awkward silence, Ghost reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. With a swift motion, he lifted his balaclava, unveiling his lips, which soon held the cigarette with an ease born of habit. Despite being a non-smoker, you found yourself captivated by the sight of him lighting up his cigarette and drawing a deep inhale. Something about it sparked a desire within you, a curiosity you hadn’t felt before.

Feeling audacious, you stepped forward and asked, “Can I have one?” Your head tilted to the side. A hint of anticipation twinkled in your eyes. Ghost, however, shook his head in denial, causing a childish pout to adorn your face.

“You can’t. You don’t smoke.” Ghost’s words were matter-of-fact. A dash of amusement was evident in his tone. You responded with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, scoffing at his statement that merely reiterated the obvious.

You took a single, decisive step closer to him, deliberately narrowing the gap that had been lingering between you two. A flutter of hesitation clouded your actions for a moment, but the alluring, intoxicating scent of smoke wafting in the air coaxed you into action. You reached out, your fingers outstretched to snatch the still-burning cigarette from his grasp after he exhaled a stream of smoke into the night air. Ghost, for his part, didn’t utter a word. He simply stood there, his gaze on you. You mimicked his earlier actions, took a few measured drags from the cigarette before placing it back between his lips, all the while not moving an inch away and keeping your eyes fixed on him.

Ghost’s eyebrows arched in surprise, an obvious attempt to hide the smile that was slowly beginning to creep onto his face. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head in a casual, almost dismissive manner. “First, you blatantly ignore me when I tell you to stop moving. Then you have the audacity to fall asleep and drool on me. And now, you dare to steal my cigarette,” he stated, the tone of his voice teetering between amusement and disbelief.

You shrugged, the corners of your mouth twitching upwards in a subtle hint of a sly smile. “Don’t act like you mind.”

And the truth was, he didn’t mind. In fact, he loved it, the way a parched wanderer would love a drop of water in the desert. Your unapologetic authenticity intrigued him. It challenged him, made him question the vows he had made to himself daily. Perhaps you were worth the risk, a gamble he was willing to play, a game he was willing to lose.

Buried deep within him, like a secret locked away in a forgotten chest, he knew without a shred of doubt that if you ever decided to see more than just a friend in him, he would have willingly surrendered to you. But now, despite the longing that gnawed at him, like a wolf tearing at its prey, he held back, resolved to protect you from himself, not daring to taint your innocence with his touch.

Ohhh... If only he had known that you harbored the same feelings deep within your heart - that you yearned for his touch, his eyes on you, that his presence was an unyielding constant in your thoughts, driving you to the brink of insanity - perhaps the night would have unfolded differently.

But neither of you had the courage to confess. Neither of you took that daunting first step, instead choosing to pretend that you were indifferent - each of you acting as if you desired nothing more in life than to remain friends... Friends that flirted, stole sneaky looks, and couldn’t get each other out of their minds.

Nothing more, nothing less. Just friends, like two stars in the night sky, forever close yet galaxies apart.

[mleprae]

Why should YOU!!!!!! care about parasite conservation

This is a question I get alot, esp since I usually ramble quite a bit here about parasites and diseases, well, I got the chance to do a seminar on the topic of parasite conservation but I was under a very small time limit for such an complex topic! I couldn't quite say all I wanted to say. So I am posting it here! I know everyone who follows me is a fellow disease/parasite/rot enthusiast and you do not need me to lecture you on this, but I thought I should put these out anyways, just in case anyone is curious why!

First, we need to understand the concept of viable population, a viable population is a population of a species that can survive for at least 100 years in the wild, this term includes;

Demographical changes A population must survive changes in their demographic, such as when there are more females than males in monogomous species.

Ecological changes A population must survive changes in their ecosystem, such as logging, habitat destruction, ecological islands, etc

Genetic diversity A population with poor genetic diversity is a dead one, genetic influx helps maintain genetical diversity which leads to mutations, those mutations can serve to keep the population resistant against specific diseases.

In shorter words, a viable population is a population that can survive without human intervetion for conservation efforts, this is usually applied to vertebrates, however, we will see that parasites are tied to these pilars, especifically the 3rd one. There are a few reasons why should care about parasite conservation but the most important;

Parasites help manage populations My main character for my seminar was the Ophiocordyceps sinensis fungus, a parasite that preys on the larva of ghost moths. The decrease of the population of O. sinensis led to the growth of these moths which consequently made other insects who competed for resources against those moths have their populations threatned, these moths also ravaged the roots of several trees, many who are considered threatned.

Parasites can change social hierarchies for better or for worse A popular parasite, Toxoplasmosis gondii, can infect wolves making them more aggressive and reckless. These changes often led to them becoming more successful in hunts due to their parasites affecting their risk-assessment part while also helping them climb the social hierarchy of their packs.

On the other side, parasites may weaken an individual, making them vulnerable to other members who are looking to climb the ranks.

Understanding how a parasite work may help us understand how the host works Which is easier to understand, the lock or the key? Chemical analysis of how certain parasites function within their hosts, how they change them, evade their immune system and control them may help us understand how the host works. Parasites keep populations genetically diverse and healthy.

A population that has been isolated from disease for millenia may loose the genes associated with specific resistances, this makes them an unviable population as they are vulnerable to any infection. Parasites and host hold a very intimate and dynamic relationship; the parasite evolves to keep its place inside the host and the host evolves to keep the parasite away, keeping them genetically 'active'

Parasites produce many chemicals important to antibiotic and antinflamattory drugs

Parasites are concerned with two things 1. keeping a monopoly inside your body and 2. not dying! To do this, many will produce chemicals that kill other competing entities but keep themselves alive and others will use antiinflamttory chemicals to calm the immune system down. We are able to harvest/study these chemicals to use them for our benefits

Okay, I get it, they are important to the ecosystem, but why should we protect them?

Parasites are specific to their hosts, protecting them from other parasites.... and US!!!!!

A parasite that evolves to be in one host will occupy that space physically, protecting the host from other generalist parasites. The host, who is used to this parasite, will probably have an history of co-evolution with it and be able to survive most infections. Now, if this parasite goes extinct, there will be an void in their ecological niche... a void that can be filled by other parasites... other parasites that the host is not used to.

But wouldn't that incentivate genetic diversity?

Well, yes! But it would still be an disaster! You are introducing brand new parasites to a species that have never dealt with them before PLUS, parasites do not live in a vaccuum; they compete against other parasites, the best parasites are the ones that reproduce the most, evolve the fastest and spread quickly, you know what kind of parasites are these? viruses, elliminating a specific parasite from a host open the possibility for these other parasites to evolve to be able to fill that niche and consequently, if in close contact, they may get to us. The population of these parasites now grow, their competition dies and now you have a massive growth that you cannot stop.

And, most importantly (to ME!!!!!!!!) Learning conservation and ecology means ditching the whole 'human purpose' aspect, species do not need to serve us to be even allowed to be alive. I wanted to ditch the whole 'well, parasites can help us with infections' part because it doesn't matters, they should be saved for the simple fact that they are living beings that have been here for millions of years and deserve to live as much as any other 'cute species'. I don't care if it's leeches, bacteria, maggots or mosquitoes, they all deserve respect.

The future of parasite conservation is a bit brighter than it was when I started researching this topic, a few conservation institutes of parasites seem to have been dismantled but I've noticed more and more papers being published calling for a larger parasite effort...! And I hope to see some change soon, if it helps you feel better, when I started writing, O. sinensis was considered endangered and today, they are vulnerable :)

[riaki]

— last train at 25 o' clock | suguru geto x reader fluff(???)/light angst @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat please take this bc coffee shop geto is gonna take a bit

it's 1am in the morning, the train platform's a ghost town, and the hum of the vending machine is all the noise in the world as you and suguru wait for the last ride home after a mission.

wc : 2.6k cw : brief mentions of blood ; references to hidden inventory arc , shoko typical smoking , probably some other stuff i'm forgettin not proofread!!!! also he may be ooc srry

i cooked this up last minute cus i remembered my promise of posting every weekend last week so my bad if u can tell its rushed lol post hidden inventory pre defection

suguru remembers it like it was yesterday.

the song of summer insects reaches your ear as you clamber up to the train station platform; a pandemonium of cicadas and crickets that sing odes to the full moon in the sky partially curtained by dark clouds and the dew on the grass that's begun to form.

"damn, it's hot." you muttered, wiping your forehead as your arm shot out to grab the dirty railing, white paint cracked and peeled as a splinter pricks your fingers and you flinch. suguru follows after you; a small hum is your acknowledgment.

"careful. shoko doesn't like dealing with splinters," he says from behind you, stepping up the stairs two at a time to straighten up on the train platform, hands in his pockets. “i don’t have reversed curse technique healing either.” there's the smell of a storm in the air, and the lights overhead buzz and flicker with the intermittent beat of a moth's wings. you just give a dip of your head in acknowledgement as you pry your hand away from the railing, the scent of old wood lingering on your hand as you wipe off the dust clinging to your palm on your pants.

(geez, you two have no sense for these types of things.)

suguru holds a hand out, and you take it eagerly to let him pull you up the last step, before politely letting go and slipping it back into his pocket once more. you let out an exhausted sigh and stand up, rubbing your tired eyes as you look around.

the platform is deserted save for the stray cat beneath the station bench, sniffing at a clump of weeds growing from the metal leg. there's a vending machine up against the wall to the elevator, an obnoxious painted 'out of order' sign on the lift's muddy glass doors, stained with dust, dirt, and fingerprints. there's some... creative graffiti on the wall, and a starch yellow section of caution tape flutters in the humid evening wind.

the cat scratches at the concrete floor, and its matted white fur and crystal blue eyes remind you of someone. you glance up at suguru, poking his arm to get his attention.

"look. it's satoru." you huffed, still a little loose for breath as you reach out and grab his shoulder, leaning against him for support. the dark-haired boy just laughs a little, taking his phone out to snap a picture and no doubt send it to the white-haired brat. "i see it." he leans a little closer to you; it's subtle, and you don't notice it, but the way his shoulders sag just so you have an easier time holding on speaks volumes. "don't send it to him! he's probably asleep right now. think it's past his evening sugar high?" you asked, glancing up at him with a tilt of your head.

"most likely. i think he got sent on another solo mission today." there's a tiny bitter bite to suguru's voice that underlines its usual velvetiness; like an ocean current beneath the waves that you only find once you've been dragged underwater. you don't say anything about it, though. the sleeves of his uniform crumple beneath your fingers when they curl into the fabric, a shiver running down your spine as goosebumps spring up on your skin like shroom caps after the summer rain.

suguru is observant.

"you cold? you can have my jacket." it's immediate, and his voice is as smooth as cream silk and marble as he shrugs your hand off (much to your dismay-- shown with a bite to your cheek) to unbutton his uniform jacket, slipping it off his shoulders and offering it to you. when you stand there, feeling a little daze and a lot tired, he just smiles, shoving it in your face with a low chuckle that sounds like honey pouring from a jar.

"you sure? you can hug a cursed spirit if you get cold, 'cus you're not getting it back." you sighed after a moment, reluctantly taking his jacket and tugging it over your shoulders. it's warm, and it smells like his cologne- like some natural incense that soothes your nerves and loosens your body to the marrow in your weary bones. you bury your nose in it and forget to think about the warm hue on your cheeks that you'll later chalk up to the humid air.

"i'm sure." the cat by the bench perks up, staring directly in your direction. it yawns, before bounding away, disappearing behind the vending machine with a flick of its cloud white tail. the machine is missing a few rows of drinks, but the green of a melon soda can that's far too saturated to have a name to the original fruit and the cream and red of a yakult bottle are enough to catch your eyes beneath the harsh light of the display.

"still don't understand how you get cold on a night like this, though." he makes a gesture towards 'this' with one hand, fingers flexing in a way that makes your heart flutter unreasonably.

a moment of silence passes; you can see the distant lights of some prefecture over the hill, and your mind briefly wanders to rainy afternoons, puddles reflecting the red neon of passing cars and distorted faces under plastic umbrellas sandwiched between painted concrete and a dark sky.

"you want a drink? on me, as thanks." you say, breaking the sound of silence and nodding towards the vending machine as you look up at suguru. it takes him a moment to respond, so you use the opportunity to admire his profile; the slope of his nose, the deep hazel of his eyes that shine a copper rust beneath the pale yellow light overhead. his hair is a little messy; it's falling out of its slicked back bun, a product of your earlier fight. there's a scrape on your ankle from tripping through the bush in an attempt to put distance between the curse when you had been engaged earlier; it still stings. there's a tightness to his jaw, you notice- and some part of you wishes you could take it for yourself.

the section of dark hair in front of his face sways as he turns to look down at you, gaze charting the corners of your face (your cheeks look soft, he notes) before he opens his mouth to speak.

one kick to the machine, a disappointed frown when nothing comes out, and two yen bills later, the pop of can tabs fills your ears as condensation seeps into your skin, a pleasant relief from the heaviness of the summer air. it's too much when the cold side of a drink is pressed to your cheek, though-- and you let out a yelp of protest, shooting a quick glare up at suguru, who just laughs it off and takes a sip of his drink.

you down a sip of your own; it's a sweet fruit tea that's your go to whenever it's hot out. sweet, citrusy, like starfruit. it tastes like a summer of youth and a warm blue spring. it's pleasant.

a distant rumble echoes from the dark horizon, and both of your gazes simultaneously snap towards it-- at last, you think. the last train is here. you adjust suguru's jacket around your shoulders, catching a whiff of something that smells like rosemary and new leather as his voice fills your ears.

it's an easy night when you pass the threshold and step into the train car, speckled white floors and blue hard seats greeting you. somewhere, there's a ticket stuffed into one of your pockets; a memento of late evenings that blend into early mornings when there's a bruise on your face and a knick on suguru's wrist that soothe themselves with the harmony of small talk and sensation of fizzling bubbles in cold metal cans as the train jostles you along. you're sitting, and he's standing, one arm on the hangers overhead as you talk about everything and nothing. he catches himself every now and then, watching with minimal interest as the sliding doors part themselves like gateways to the afterlife for ghost passengers. it's not your stop yet; far from it.

"say, suguru-- do you miss going on missions with satoru?" you asked after a moment, fingers drumming against your knees as the automated voice overhead announces the next stop, empty farm plots and tangles of wire passing by as the lights inside cozy houses dim and go off.

he doesn't answer that, so you just look out the window.

(suguru, you gettin' enough sleep? heatstroke?)

"how's the cut on your leg?" he finally murmurs after a moment, his eyelids heavy before he tears his gaze away from a tacky advertising on the wall and back to your scrunched nose.

"annoying." you just sighed, and you watched as he gave a small smile; his eyes fluttering shut, long lashes resting against his cheeks. you wondered if the wings of a butterfly would be heavy enough to weigh them down.

he moves after a second, sitting down one seat away from you in a swift motion and beckoning for you to lift your leg. you comply, not entirely sure where it's going- until he gently rolls the hem of your pant leg up, pressing the cold edge of his half-empty soda to the angry red scratch, and you wince a little before letting out one, long sigh. you melt into the chair, feeling like a senior citizen with a hunched back and one too many shrine visits under a bleached kyoto sun.

"thanks." you mumbled, leaning your head against the window as the train jostles ever so slightly to its own tracked rhythm.

he just hums in response, pulling a worn bandaid out of his pocket; the plastic top has pen smudges on it and the white wax gets caught between his pearly teeth as he tugs it off, taking time to make sure he positions the healing strip properly before flattening it down on your leg.

"shoko makes no sense when she talks about her reversed curse technique, so this'll do." he says quietly, and you let yourself fall into the pool of molasses that comes from his throat as you close your eyes, feeling the dull sensation of pain drain from your muscles and melt away like the first waves of spring and the ripple of lake water as a lone sakura petal disturbs the mirrored blue surface.

"i could learn it." you said after a moment, pressing your lips together in an attempt to snuff out the feeling of his fingers lingering on your skin, toying with the loose edge of the bandaid. he just snorts, and you crack one eye open to glare at him.

the rest of the train ride is spent in silence; you slip in and out of a hazy sleep, and you're faintly aware of the timeline-- somehow, your drink ends up on his lips. your head ends up on his shoulder, and your ears pick up his quickened heartbeat. his warmth is nothing like the humidity that clings to your skin like a layer of smoke and vapor, accompanied by sticky dango and raucous laughter weaving between the sounds of fireworks and the crunch of dirt beneath pairs of geta. he smells like home and his soft hair tickles your face as your little breaths squeeze past your parted lips, a warmth like bumping shoulders and linking fingers seeping into your body like the steady stream of fine sand in an hourglass. a warmth like empty classrooms lit by golden hour; windows cracked open to let in a fresh breeze as the faint smell of cigarette smoke drifts up to the room from the brunette and her lighter beneath the patch of shade from a tree in the courtyard below.

(need a light?)

this is how it's been for the past month. tired mumbles and hushed murmurs exchanged between two people who are more than friends but less than lovers after each harrowing mission; shared drinks and linked pinkies, the warmth that stains cheeks rosy when fingers that look small against calloused ones brush with another hand reaching for the metal pole on the train. heavy silence as you fall asleep on his shoulder; faint tingles when his fingers graze your knuckles as he stares at the dark reflection in the windows across. even the windows know how to make him relax.

one day, it'll be just him. a white bird stained black by apollo's hand in a sea of dirty geese, silent as the others hawk and squawk for a place on the lake. one hand hooked around the hard plastic of a hanger, supporting heavy shoulders with weight that could rival atlas' burden. a boy so tired of being beaten by the waves that he succumbs to the undercurrent with the same practice as before, only the paint on the railings has chipped past repair and not even the greenery of the countryside can touch the stains on the windows to his soul; eyes that used to shine with mirth and crinkle with gentle smiles become sunken and heavy with experience more suited to those a decade older.

he'd already chosen his path when he offered his jacket to you; when he laughed at the way you'd sneezed after investigating the patch of weed that had captured the stray cat's attention from before. and he knew that you'd noticed, and he knew that you'd try, and he knew that he wouldn't let you.

he knew when he woke you up with a gentle nudge to the forehead, suppressing the fluttering feeling in the heart he didn't know he still had when you made a grumpy tired face and stood up with much effort and a stumble or two.

(damn monkeys.)

it was easy nights like these that he'd eventually miss the most. walking you back to your dorm, past the candy wrappers and empty cola cans in the halls stained with imaginary blood and passing glances. departing with a kiss goodbye when he knew you were too drowsy and delirious to be able to remember it come morning.

the swing of a jazz rhythm would get stuck in his throat when you stumbled, only catching yourself from the jolt of the train's stop by latching a hand onto his wrist like some evil little lamprey and muttering a small 'sorry'. he'd laugh it off, collect the empty bottles of drinks of debt, and tug on the sleeve of his jacket on your arms, gently helping you off the platform as your pant leg slid back down to cover the bandaid on your leg, rough fabric scratching away the ghost of his touch on your skin. he wished it would just stay for a little longer.

and when the morning came and you woke up in your bed with his scent on the fabric of your shirt, you'd do it all over again. the only part of the terrible cycle he ever took pleasure in. even when the vile taste of a cursed spirit sunk into his stomach, it would be washed away with the right pop and fizzle of sugary drink followed by an even sweeter kiss to the knot between his tired eyes.

there was nothing about your time together he wouldn't ever miss.

you'd be his past, his present, and his afterlife. even when it was his turn to get off the ghost train and step past those sliding doors that held new meaning, you were the last thought on his mind.

one day, he hopes to see you again, when the last train comes in the night so late it could be considered early morning and the platform can relive old memories of peeling paint on a past summer spring once more.

hope u guys enjoyed the catoru cameo my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[marzipanandminutiae]

Rating the Femme en Noir Crimson Peak collection when I should be going to bed (it's not ALL critical, actually!)

no judgment at all to people who like the collection. nothing can achieve higher than a 7/10 because it's all synthetic. let's get into it

Edith Victorian Gown in Ivory

...yeah! that's basically Edith's nightgown copied exactly, so it's a 7/10 from me

2. Lady Lucille Victorian Dress With Capelet In Teal

What. um. What does this have to do with anything Lucille wears? It's blue velvet and it's a dress; there the similarities end. Why is there a ruffly capelet? That's something Edith wears, not Lucille. Why are there leg-o-mutton sleeves? Why is there no trim whatsoever? (that last is to become a running theme.) 3/10.

3. Allerdale Moth Wallpaper Babydoll Dress in Olive

There's a longer version, and were it a natural fabric, I'd be tempted to buy it and alter it into a blouse and over-skirt or something. This one is honestly pretty cute, though I forget what part of the house this wallpaper appears in. 7/10.

4. Edith Victorian Knit Cardigan in Olive

I get that they want to modernize these things for their target audience, but the original being SO much more fitted and sumptuous-looking just makes this one look sad. It's like Wish.com Edith. 5/10 for at least keeping the little velvet pumpkins.

5. Ghost Shoulder Bag

If this were leather, I would buy it. Not a huge fan of Margaret being the ghost on the front, though- I feel like Enola or Eleanor would be more photogenic. Poor Margaret. 6/10 though they're lucky I don't take points off for calling it "vegan leather" in the description. Be honest- it's plastic.

6. Belladonna Maxi Dress in Crimson Red

This is just an existing product of theirs But In Red. Pretty, but 4/10 for lack of effort.

7. Lady Mourning Victorian Gown in Black

It's the nightgown in black with a sash. Try harder. 3/10 and I'm skipping any color repeats labeled as different dresses from here on out.

8. Mourning Victorian Bonnet in Black

You know what? Yeah. Sure! That's a cute bonnet. Good job. 7/10.

9. Lace Mourning Scarf Veil in Black.

You can get a yard of nylon chantilly lace for less than $28, pretty as this looks. 5/10.

10. Victorian Cycling Pullover Sweater in Black

I mean. I guess. What does this have to do with Crimson Peak, exactly? Why is "Lucille" wearing puffed sleeves when, again, her clothing being tight has so much character logic behind it? It's a mystery. 5/10.

11. Victorian Velvet Bustle Skirt in Black

This didn't photograph well, but it appears to have some cool pleat details. I don't like 19th-century skirts getting shortened, but that's more a matter of personal preference than reaction to movie inspiration or lack thereof. 6/10.

12. Taffeta Edwardian Blouse in Marigold

This comes in multiple colors, but I picked the marigold because it illustrates that Wish.com effect once again.

The OG bodice from the movie that they're clearly trying to evoke. It has DETAIL! it has TRIM! It has LUSH FABRIC! And obviously you can't do that with a mass-produced piece, but ye gods, why would you set yourself up for failure by trying? If they hadn't gone for the look of a specific movie costume, their blouse wouldn't look disappointing by comparison. 5/10

13. Wicker Tilt Hat With Black Veil

Once again I feel they shot themselves in the foot here. It's cute! But it suffers by trying to be something that was better in the movie.

Not great by comparison; it's TOO close without going all the way. 6/10 because it is cute, though.

[skipped a bunch more veils and some lace mitts, which were cute but have nothing to do with How Well Or Poorly The CPeak Inspiration Was Executed In My Opinion]

14. Victorian Hands Belt in Silver

THIS IS NOT THE CRIMSON PEAK HAND BELT. THIS IS NOT EVEN TRYING TO BE THE CRIMSON PEAK HAND BELT. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS?

IT IS THIS 1970S BELT- WHICH, LIKE THE ONE IN THE MOVIE, IS NOT BASED ON ANY VICTORIAN ORIGINAL THAT I'M AWARE OF -THAT HAS BEEN COPIED 50000 TIMES. DO YOURSELF A FAVOR AND WAIT FOR CUTTLE AND BONE TO HAVE ANOTHER PREORDER OF ACTUAL CPEAK HAND BELTS. 0/10.

Conclusion: Not all bad, but I feel like I actually would have gone in a more modern direction with the resources and limitations of this collection. You're never going to be as good as the movie costumes at their own game, not with mass-manufactured pieces. So why set yourself up for failure? Bringing the characters, themes, and motifs to a yet-unexplored time and place (with some Victwardian touches, of course!) seems like it would have been a better way to go about this, IMO.

Also stop being allergic to trim when you're taking inspiration from a movie with oodles of passementerie and beadwork and lace all over everything.

5/10 overall.

[courtana]

URL song game

rules: write one song for every letter in your url, and then tag as many people as there are letters in your url

Tagged by @alexxmason! Tysm, friend! ❤️

H – How I Fall Part by CURRENTS O – Overflow by POLARIS L – Lemon Glow by BEACH HOUSE L – Lighthouse by IMMINENCE Y – You're Not You Anymore by COUNTERPARTS T – Tropics by THE DAYSLEEPERS A – Art Class by BEABADOOBEE N – Night Drive by GHOST ATLAS A – Alpha by PERIPHERY K – Kintsugi by LIKE MOTHS TO FLAMES A – Anhedonia by SILENT PLANET

no pressure tags: @aegonx @lornashores @collinnmckinley @wintersongstress @caveiras @ladistark @ncytiri @ichibankasvga @deadbranch @jasonntodd @fireplceashes & anyone else who wants to do this

[ahollowgrave]

-- Odette Hollows [B A S I C S]

B A S I C S

Name: Odette Hollows Nicknames: None commonly used. Yein calls her their ‘Moonlit Friend’ and Marlow refers to her by title; Sister. I don’t know if any of these are ‘nicknames.’ Age: Early Twenties Nameday: 9th Sun of the Fifth Umbral Moon Race: Mostly Hyur; technically Ashkin. Gender: CIS Female Orientation: Demi Lesbian Profession: Nun Errant, Psychopomp, Shepherd

P H Y S I C A L     A S P E C T S

Hair: Strands of spun moonlight are cropped just past her jawline; styled with a few braids with occasional charms or ribbons woven throughout. Likely her most recognizable feature. In dark enough settings, it can shed low light.   Eyes: Like frozen pools; her right eye is a sharp blue, and her left is a clear lavender.  Skin: Ghostly pale, dotted with occasional beauty marks.  Tattoos/scars: Graced with stretch marks but beyond that no notable scars. 

F A M I L Y

Parents: Unknown to her, deceased. Perfectly nice people who, through no fault of their own, died. Siblings: N/A Grandparents: Unknown to her, deceased. Also perfectly nice people.  In-laws and Other: A great-many-times-over Aunt named Odile. A not-so-nice person.  Pets: Rou, a large Karakul who often travels with Odette. Three ewes: Pomme, Poire, and Peche.

S K I L L S

Abilities: - Odette is a beacon to lost souls, ghosts, and spirits. They flock to her and under the umbrella of her influence their forms are altered into that of moths. They cling to her, calling for aid which she lends as best she can. Odette is a psychopomp, she guides the dead without judgment. She can see, hear, and otherwise interact with these lost and stuck souls. She has a custom job fusion of WHM (Conjury)/PLD.

- A strong defensive fighter, Odette prefers her shield and conjurer’s cane to the sword that hangs at her side. She wields her shield well, trusting in it fully to keep herself and her loved ones safe. When she plants her cane, the river rises. 

- Kulning is an ancient form of herding calls used over long distances. Odette learned the skill in her youth and uses it still, calling in her small flock of Karakul at her home. Is this important enough to put here? Probably not, it’s just an additional fun fact! For you!

Hobbies: Reading, gardening, knitting (badly), and exploration. She also plays piano and harp.

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: The warmth of her personality, her willingness to meet and love people as they are and as they change. Her curiosity about the people around her.  Most Negative Trait: Her inability to trust herself, her eagerness to trust others above herself. People don’t care for the stealing, either.

L I K E S

Colors: Blues, Purples, Silver, and a pop of red.  Smells: Rich, damp soil; Cedar; sun-ripened peaches; sweet, warm vanilla. Textures: The warmth of hand-spun wool, wood worn smooth with use, the delicate touch of petals against skin. Drinks: Hot chocolate with marshmallows and butterscotch, lemonade infused with different fruits and flowers. 

O T H E R    D E T A I L S

Smokes: Not cigarettes. Drinks: No.  Drugs: Yes, pretty heavily. She cannot sleep so she takes drugs to sort of  ‘float’ in a resting state. It doesn’t work but it is better than nothing.  Mount Issuance: Odette is not insured to ride anything. She walks most places, or takes ferries and airships where she can. She owns a Chocobo, named Beauty, who was gifted to her by her friend None. Most of the time if she is riding, she rides Rou, her most loyal Karakul.  Been Arrested: No, but she should have been.

][ Tagged by: ][ @myreia @sealrock @thefreelanceangel @cindernet-explorer @paintedscales @hazelkjt ][ AHH! Thank you all SO much, I appreciate it! ] ][ Tagging: ][ @snotsloth @but-first--tea @the-sycophant @eorzeanflowers @abyssalmermaiden @tallbluelady @viiioca @the-white-snake @claire-ashe & You! ]

[urds-lover]

˚୨୧˚⊹ ✦YAN DOUMA X S/O✦⊹˚୨୧˚

The air was thick with the scent of blood and incense, swirling through the dimly lit temple where Douma stood. His golden eyes gleamed in the candlelight, reflecting a coldness that sent shivers through even the most hardened souls. Yet, there was one exception—you.

You had been drawn to him, like a moth to a flame, captivated by his beauty, his charm, the deadly elegance with which he moved through the world. No one ever questioned his authority. No one ever dared get close enough to see the man behind the façade.

But you… you had always been different.

In the sanctuary, the soft sound of your footsteps echoed as you approached, heart pounding in your chest, yet your gaze steady, unwavering. Douma watched you closely, lips curling into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He could sense your emotions—fear, desire, conflict—all weaving together in a delicate balance.

“Why do you resist?” His voice was like silk, deceptively gentle yet filled with an undeniable command. He took a step toward you, his towering form casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the room.

You felt your throat tighten, but you refused to back away. “You... you can't control me,” you whispered, though the conviction in your voice wavered. Deep down, you knew you were lying, knew that your heart was already ensnared by him.

Douma’s smile widened, his cold hand gently brushing against your cheek. His touch sent a jolt through you, a mixture of fear and longing. “Control you?” he mused, tilting his head. “I have no need for control. You came to me willingly.”

Your lips parted to argue, but no words came. The truth in his statement was undeniable. You hated it. You hated that you were drawn to him, hated the darkness that swirled around him, yet you craved it—craved him.

His eyes darkened as his hand slid down to your neck, fingers tracing your pulse. “I don’t care if we reincarnate or not,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl. “But in this lifetime... you are mine.”

The intensity of his words sent a shockwave through you, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. His possessiveness should have terrified you, should have driven you away. But instead, it made your heart race. The world outside seemed to blur, fading into irrelevance as you stood in his grasp.

“What if I refuse?” you managed to choke out, though every fiber of your being screamed that you wouldn’t—couldn’t.

Douma’s smile softened into something more dangerous, more intimate. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “You won’t.” His lips ghosted against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Because you belong to me as much as I belong to you.”

Your body trembled under his gaze, a mix of fear and undeniable desire coursing through you. He was right. You couldn’t walk away, not now, not ever. There was something dark and magnetic that bound you to him, and no matter how much you resisted, you were trapped—entwined with him in a fate you could not escape.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his cold eyes locking onto yours, and in that moment, you felt it—an unbreakable connection. The world could end, time could collapse, but the two of you would remain, bound together by something stronger than life, darker than death.

“You will be mine, always,” he whispered, his voice soft yet filled with absolute certainty.

And in the silence that followed, you found yourself nodding, surrendering to the inevitable truth: you were his, just as he was yours.

The atmosphere in the temple grew even heavier as Douma’s words hung in the air, their weight pulling at your resolve. His presence was overwhelming, and despite the coldness that radiated from him, there was an undeniable heat between you. Your mind screamed at you to leave, to run far away from the danger he represented, but your body betrayed you, frozen in place under his gaze.

Douma, sensing your turmoil, slowly slid his hands down from your neck to your shoulders, his touch both firm and unsettlingly gentle. His golden eyes softened as they bore into yours, as if he could see past every defense you had, down into the deepest parts of your soul. It was as if he was unwrapping you, layer by layer, until there was nothing left to hide.

“You tremble,” he said softly, his voice a dangerous mix of concern and amusement. “Why fight what you already know is inevitable?”

Your breath caught in your throat as his hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer. Before you could speak, before you could form any kind of protest, his arms wrapped around you, enveloping you in a cold, yet oddly comforting embrace. The contrast of his chilling touch against the heat of your skin sent shivers down your spine.

Douma’s hold was tight, possessive. His chin rested atop your head as he pressed you against his chest. You could hear the slow, steady beat of his heart—or perhaps it was your own, pounding uncontrollably in the silence. For a moment, time itself seemed to stop. You were enveloped in him, in the smell of incense and the faint metallic scent of blood, in the sound of his quiet breaths, in the overwhelming presence of his body against yours.

“You’re scared,” Douma whispered into your hair, his tone surprisingly tender, though still edged with that dark, underlying intensity that made your stomach twist. “But you don’t need to be. I will never hurt you. Not you.”

The sincerity in his voice was almost enough to convince you, almost enough to make you believe that the monster before you could offer safety. But there was no escaping the truth: Douma was dangerous. His beauty was as deceptive as his words, and yet, you wanted to believe him. Desperately.

You tried to pull away, to regain some semblance of control, but his arms tightened around you. “Don’t.” His voice was soft, a warning hidden behind its sweetness. “Don’t run from me. You can’t. You belong here, in my arms, just like this.”

Your pulse quickened, but despite the warning, you didn’t push him away again. You couldn’t. His embrace was intoxicating, his scent filling your senses until nothing else mattered. His cold hand slid up your back, fingers tangling in your hair as he gently tilted your head back to meet his gaze.

“I could keep you here forever,” he whispered, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours, teasing. “And you would never have to feel fear, or pain, or loneliness. Only me.”

His words were a promise, one that should have terrified you—but instead, it ignited something deep inside you. You could feel his breath against your lips, and the world outside the temple seemed to vanish. There was nothing left but the two of you, locked in this dark, twisted dance. Your heart screamed for you to run, but your body stayed rooted to the spot, betraying your every instinct.

“Tell me,” Douma continued, his voice low and hypnotic. “Tell me you’ll stay.”

You swallowed hard, your voice caught in your throat. The darkness in his eyes was alluring, drawing you in like a current you couldn’t swim against. He was everywhere, his touch, his scent, his voice wrapping around you like a web, pulling you deeper into him.

“I…” You hesitated, the last remnants of your resistance crumbling under the weight of his gaze. Your hands, almost of their own accord, slid up his chest, feeling the cool, smooth fabric of his robes beneath your fingertips. His heart beat slowly and steadily beneath your palm, a stark contrast to the wild pounding in your own chest.

Douma’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he sensed your surrender. He leaned down, his lips brushing lightly against your ear as he whispered, “Good. You’ve always known, haven’t you? You were meant to be mine.”

His arms tightened around you again, pulling you impossibly closer until there was no space left between your bodies. His breath was warm against your skin, his presence overwhelming every sense, consuming you whole.

“You belong with me,” he continued, his voice so soft now, a dangerous lullaby. “Whether it’s this lifetime or the next. Whether we reincarnate or not. It doesn’t matter. In this life, you are mine.”

Your knees felt weak, and you clutched onto him, desperate to steady yourself as his words wrapped around your heart like a chain, binding you to him in a way that felt irreversible. You could no longer deny the truth. No matter how dark or dangerous, no matter how much you wanted to fight it, you were his.

Douma pulled back just enough to look into your eyes again, his expression softening for the briefest moment. His thumb traced the line of your jaw as his lips finally brushed against yours, the kiss feather-light but electric, igniting a fire inside you that you had never felt before.

“I will protect you,” he whispered, his lips still so close to yours. “But you are never leaving me. Not in this lifetime.”

And in that moment, you knew there was no escaping him. You didn’t want to.