#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 ♡

[ilostthewar]

Okay okay I’m back for this. So, Omega!Ghost, right? Probably a trigger warning for less than pleasant content, but this is Simon so yeah.

Because of the constant stress of his home life, he presented really late. Much later this his peers. Acted like it didn’t bother him, but it really did. Presenting was honestly one of the last concerns he had, considering he needed to survive, but having something about himself that was clearly off is only another blaring sign above his head.

When he finally presents, it’s almost a curse that he ends up as an Omega. His dad takes it as reason to need to “toughen” him up, otherwise his dad acts like he isn’t even there.

He never really learned to nest. His mom rarely did so, she never felt safe enough to do it. Simon tried maybe once. His dad destroys it. Makes a show of tearing the thin blankets to strips, tears the stuffing out of the flat pillows, pisses on the mess. Makes Simon clean it up. He never nests again in that house, even when he got older.

When his mom’s heats come around, him and Tommy are usually supposed to become scarce, usually means that for a few days they simply can’t be home. Sometimes the lady across the street will let them camp out on her couch. But Simon can’t act like he doesn’t know what happens. When they come back and his mom is gnawed to pieces, bruised and limping- and she still makes his dad breakfast, still cleans the broken furniture and dishes away, still gives placating smiles. Her eyes are so tired. When his dad finally disappears in the middle of the day she all but collapses. Simon helps her to the couch, not to her bed- he can’t stand going in there neither can she. He swears he’ll never let an alpha touch him during his heats.

Learns early that scent blockers are a saving grace. It’s worth every pound he scrounges together, every time he goes hungry, every hour he spends working shit jobs. They stay on all day, he never takes them off. Even when his scent glands are inflamed and throb, even when they got infected that one time. Being undetectable, being ignored, is a blessing. It’s safety.

When he joins the military, it’s more of the same shit. Knothead alphas with too much time and energy. But Simon learned well before now that being deemed rabid is better than being thought weak. Tearing the throat out of every alpha who gets too familiar sends a clear message, and it’s one he doesn’t mind repeating. He draws strict lines, and those who are dumb enough to cross them get bit. It doesn’t matter if it’s respect or fear if it means he’s left alone.

His heats were always infrequent. Medical said it wasn’t too uncommon, probably a hormonal imbalance. It doesn’t help that he chooses to take as many heat blockers as possible. Unfortunately, he’s only allowed to be on them for about a year at a time before having to take a three month break, but if he rations his doses appropriately, he wont have to stop taking them. Medical doesn’t approve, of course, but they aren’t going to stop him.

However when his heats do come, they hit strong. He becomes feral. He’s forced to take time off, considering the fact that he tried to work through it once, and he nearly broke every bone in some alpha’s bitch body when they tried to scruff him. He becomes territorial, snarls at anyone who dares stand too close.

He prefers to simply bunker down and go through the discomfort by himself. Locks himself in, buys scent diffusers and extra strength scent blockers. He doesn’t let himself sleep, paces and stares at every entry and exit point. It’s a high stress time, only remembers to eat and drink when his mom or brother send him a message about it.

After Roba- after everything, things are different. They tore out his scent glands, scarred them up. He doesn’t smell right anymore, too metallic and faint. He can’t wear scent blockers, the area is too sensitive. There’s nothing that can be done to repair them. He also can’t have them anymore. Heats. His body simply doesn’t. Trauma, stress, whatever, Medical has a dozen theories, no concrete answer. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t experience heat-like events. Times where his hormones become unbalanced, where he’s irritable and he feels unsteady in his body, it lasts about a week. It makes the place where is scent glands were hurt more than usual. Makes him feel more lost in himself.

Becoming Ghost is easy afterwards. There’s nothing left behind of him, after all.

I’m always gonna love Alpha!Ghost cause I’m a basic bitch, but there’s something about Omega!Simon tha just NDJDKZKDND right, y’know?

[yandere-writer-momo]

1/2 10k follower special. I just wanted to treat all of you to a taste of what I may or may not continue.

Yandere Batman Shorts: Torn Between Two

Yandere Jason Todd x Fem Reader x Yandere Dick Grayson

TW: light yandere

Jason’s fingers ghosted over the scarred flesh of his face as a low sigh escaped his lips. Why wasn’t (your name) here today? She always swung by at five in the afternoon with a freshly made meal. Right before the sun began to blink its tired eyes and settle in the horizon for the night.

Yet it was now dusk. The pink and orange hues have long faded into violet blankets of color in the sky and the crickets began to create their serenades in the smoggy Gotham air.

Jason knew he often pushed her away, he just wished to keep her safe was all… he didn’t live a very safe or stable life. He was constantly in a deadly dance with danger. He never knew if she’d be swept up in the arms of his enemies and swallowed whole…

Yet his prickly mannerisms didn’t equate to him not caring for her. Jason did care! He just had never been taught how to show it. He’s never felt love all his life, how could he return the warm feelings she made bloom in his chest like the first flowers of spring?

Jason kept watch throughout the night, just in case she’d appear. He didn’t want to miss (your name) for the world…

He would give her two days. If she didn’t come before then, then he’d pursue her.

.

.

.

Dick felt his heart break as (your name) softly cried in his chest. His arms wrapped firmly around her as his fingers ran shapeless, yet soothing, patterns on her back.

“Shh. It’s okay…” He whispered in her ear as she shed a few more tears. Dick had no idea who this man was, but he wanted to beat the snot out of him.

Dick has had a crush on her for years and yet she began to crush on some delinquent? When he was right there?! It wasn’t fair!

(Your name) had been there for him through every failed romantic endeavor he ever had. She always picked him up and wiped away his tears with her thumbs. And somewhere along the way, he fell utterly, and hopelessly in love with her.

She was a perfect woman in his eyes. She was patient, kind, and filled with as much warmth as the first ray of sun in spring. Yet some random man in Gotham was making her cry like this? Unbelievable! How could anyone make her cry and live with themselves?! If he was the man who held her heart, he would cherish her and love her like the princess she was.

“I’m sorry, Dick. I didn’t mean to get your shirt all wet.” Dick didn’t care about the shirt, he would preserve it after this in his collection. He cared more about why she was crying and he wanted to know who made her cry.

“Don’t apologize for this. It barely fits me anyways.” He flexed his bicep which made (your name) explode in a fit of giggles. A big grin spread on his face from her reaction. There she was, there was his happy girl.

(Your name) covered her mouth to try to stop the giggles from their escape as he made his pecs dance for her. “Stop that, you’re so goofy.”

“But you’re smiling, aren’t you? You’re so much prettier when you smile.”

(Your name) rested her head on Dick’s chest as his heart thrummed like a snare drum. Her cheeks rosy from the small fit of laughter he had drawn out from her.

If only the desires of the heart were as simple as breathing… otherwise she would have yearned for a fairytale prince like Dick.

Yet she couldn’t help but be drawn like a moth to a flame to Jason’s story instead.

Jason’s jet black hair with the white streak in the front reminded her of a tuxedo cat at times. Yet he had the prickly mannerisms of a cantankerous stray… a true alley cat.

Jason Todd was a man with physical and mental scars that dug deep into his very soul, he had trauma (your name) could never hope to understand. He had a painful existence, and yet she wished to be a soothing balm to his constant torment.

(Your name) knew he was terrified of vulnerability. Yet she couldn’t help but desire to be the one to get him to open up. To take that violent stray into her warm arms and pepper his head with kisses.

Yet she needed to be patient… she needed to let him come to her this time. And she would give him that space. The final nudge to get him to enter solace for the first time in decades.

(Your name) smiled up at Dick who kissed the crown of her head. He was always so sweet… like a Labrador retriever.

While Jason was apprehensive yet forlorn, Dick was friendly and affectionate. (Your name) had no doubt that Dick would violently wag his tail if he had one. He was such a loving man… she often felt like an awful person whenever he’d comfort all her frustrations away.

“Thank you, Dick. I feel better.” She smiled warmly at her best friend.

(Your name) wasn’t aware that these two men were brothers nor did she know of the frayed and fragile bond they had.

Both Jason and Dick would now stop at nothing to have her to themselves. She was torn between the two in a dangerous game of tug-o-war.

[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

[salahmanarfamily]

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[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.

[alicehasautism]

Hello may I request billy lenz and brahms (seperately) with a future S/O (who doesnt know about their existence in the attic/walls) who likes to sing when they think theyre alone but gets really shy in front of people?

Awwwe, of course you can! Im so sorry that I am just now getting to this! I FINALLY GOT THE COURGE TO POST AND WRITE AGAIN!

Whispering Shadows

The Melodies of Isolation: Billy Lenz

The stillness of the sorority house was only ever broken by the gentle echoes of soft, sweet melodies—humming that drifted into the corners of the attic where Billy Lenz resided. Each night, as the moon cast silver shadows across the wooden beams, his eerie eye peered through a gap to witness them, his future S/O, singing to themself, unaware of the chilling figure lurking above. Their voice was delicate, hauntingly beautiful, and it filled Billy’s heart with both an unsettling thrill and an overwhelming longing.

Despite the twisted persona he had crafted over the years, the songstress's innocent serenade stirred a flicker of warmth within him. Why did they seem so unaware of the darkness surrounding them, the very darkness that thrived on their vulnerability? Why did he crave their voice like a moth to a flame? As they sang, he felt a connection, a silent bond that pulled him despite the turmoil of his mind.

Billy remained hidden, listening, entranced. He could feel the weight of their shyness; they were shy even in their solitude—every now and then, they would softly chuckle at a mistake or pause suddenly, as though realizing they were not alone. In those moments, did they feel his steadfast gaze?

One fateful evening, the surface of the house trembled with a gentle wind. As they rendered their heart into the lyrics, something stirred deep within him—a desire to share in their melody, to emerge from the dark confinement of his guilt-ridden heart. He wanted them to know, however impossible it seemed, that he was there, witness to the beautiful echoes of their dreams. Yet, he held back, knowing that he was the very phantom they unknowingly sang about, a ghost in the shadows.

The Doll's Prelude: Brahms Heelshire

In the quiet solitude of the Heelshire mansion, Brahms Heelshire listened with an intensity that clawed at his very being. From the confines of the walls, he could hear the soft, timid notes flowing through the air as his future S/O sang their heart out, oblivious to the deep secrets hidden beneath the surface of the porcelain doll they perceived only as a child. their voice was a soothing balm to the festering wounds of his spirit, captivating yet painfully distant.

For years, Brahms had been in the shadows, watching nannies fall prey to his twisted desires, their screams echoing through the abodes of his youth. Yet, this girl was different; they brought life to a home that had been void of innocence and joy for far too long. When he first caught a glimpse of them, so delicate and pure, he was perhaps too much of the boy he once was—beneath the mask and madness, he desired companionship.

Each time they believed themselves to be alone, Brahms revealed the softness of their voice. It was in those fleeting moments he saw their shyness, the fleeting insecurity of someone too afraid to be seen—someone who would quietly retreat at the sight of another, but would light up relentlessly when they was alone. He longed for the layers of torment encapsulating him and reveal himself to them, but the memories of his previous life held him captive, succumbing to the fear of what they might see if they truly looked within.

One night, under the veil of darkness, he felt reckless. As their vocals danced in the silence of the mansion, he began to move—a soft rustle behind them as the porcelain doll shifted slightly on its own. Horrifying it seemed, yet Brahms silently willed them to notice, to understand the bond they shared in the shadows. Would they sing for him, knowing the truth? Would they see past the mantle of fear he wore and embrace the darkness that connected them, or would they shatter, much like so many nannies before them?

[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 !