#Ship; Gnashing Fangs

[sparrowsong-7]

At Peace

It's the little moments that make this life worth it

Ft. @cindernet-exploded's A'vyra [he/she/they]

[cindernet-exploded]

yes & no by natalie wee

[ft. @sparrowsong-7's Fayne] [He/She/They for A'vyra (catboy)]

[fxckin-blackbeard]

Welcome to Hell...

Zombie Apocalypse Starter for @heartthrobxhook

ᒥ🧟‍♂️ᒧ—        "Fuck this cold ass place, worse than Bristol!" He pulls his leather jacket closer to his body and fights back the shivers that threaten to shake his body.

"The further North, Ed, the better. Slows the infected down." Izzy sighs.

"Slows US down, too, man..." Edward grumbles. "Oi, thats--Are ya dumb?! Not that line, throw the dockin' line!" He rushes off suddenly, moving below from the quarterdeck to help one of the men setting up on the dock. "Start from the bottom, wind up, and use ya full body to make that line taught, brother." He shows the man how to secure the bowline and gives him a clap on the shoulder.

There on the dock of this small Maine town was a massive frigate sailing ship, how she made it into the port was incredible.

A chorus of growls and stomping feet round the corner. Bodies shuffle and drag themselves closer to the leather clad group making their way onto the dock. Frothing, snarling, bloody, gnashing teeth slobbering with diseased drool looking for fresh flesh. Edward grabs a cutlass from his side, smirking widely now. "Oh-ho-ho man, let the fun begin! C'mon ya pus filled fucks!"

A year before it began, the News talking of the spread of a flu. But Edward remembers well it only took a week for everything to go to shit. What started as a flu had people going feral, crazed with the sickness in a rabid way. Bites, scratches, infected blood, or saliva was all it took and like wildfire it spread fast. First was big cities, next was the suburbs, last was rural towns. No one was spared, there was no time to control the infected. Society began to collapse, cities bombed, military overrun, the power went out about a month into the chaos. Been Hell ever since.

Edward was a normal man, he worked as fishermen in the Southern United States. When the infected started popping up, he seemed to flourish in this new hellscape.

Edward wipes the infected blood off on his leather pants and combs back his long curly silver hair. "Iz, take Ivan and the other boys to the nearest Pharmacy or Hospital. Stock up on those meds. Fang and I will look for a gun-shop or police station." For ammo. The sea was safe, but scavenging on land required ammunition. And not just for the infected. The two groups, after flattening the group of infected fishermen on the dock, split ways. Their plan to cover as much ground and stock up as much as they could from this town.

"My, my, my...Looks like someone's been busy as fuck." He approaches the station, seeing all the glass covered by boards. Surrounding the station was infected bodies, all domed and being picked over by crows. With his cutlass resting on his shoulder he approaches the door. "Storybrooke? What a pansy ass name for a town..." Edward scoffs looking at the metal letters above the entrance.

"Ed..." Fang begins, but he sees the look in Edward's eyes and gives up the fight before it could begin.

Edward, with playfulness and thrill in his eyes, bangs his fist on the door. "Knock knock, pus bags! Come get it!" Should there be any infected inside, this was his means of drawing them out.

[ethicstownpod]

Hello I started listening on Saturday and I finished Ship's Theseus at 4am this morning and I am gnashing my teeth and baring my fangs and sheathing my claws and going absolutely insane what do you mean by this what do you mean by any of this I'm going to *remembers suicide jokes only harm my mental health and make everyone uncomfortable* make a radio show that broadcasts all of my biggest mistakes so someone somewhere holds me responsible how do I recover from this podcast my poor man Ian my poor girl Artemis my poor enbie Noah my poor computer program Carmilla my poor town Ethics AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA thank you for writing this show

Thank you so much for such a lovely message!!!

Ftr, making a radio broadcast and telling everyone about your misdeeds doesn’t seem to have a great track record of success thus far, but hey! You could be the first!

[unknownmusing]

Baldur's Gate - Halsin x Astarion Fanfic: 'Always there to Travel the Same Path which One Walks' - Part 1 - 'The Journey Begins' (Ascended Astarion Route)

--------------------------------------

SEVERAL DAYS LATER

Location – Mindflyer Ship – Area Unknown – approaching Early Morning

Astarion’s P.O.V:

Sharp, blinding pain like being stabbed by thousand needles – even worse when Cazador had carved the mark on my back with his ‘needle’ as he called it – forces to shoot my eyes open seeing at first a blurry image in front of me then it clears to reveal I’m trapped in some kind of pod.

Panic begins to set in me on how to escape when a Mindflyer appears out of nowhere pressing something on the side of the pod where the unexpected sensation of dreaded fear fills my whole body at their presence.

I find myself becoming paralysed with their clawed slimy, cold hand grabbing hold of my chin to forcefully turn it to reveal the two puncture marks on neck - Cazador's fang-marks - using their other hand to pry my jaw open to reveal my fangs.

It's gaze is unnerving, like it's analysing me under a microscope - noting my fangs, how I produce the venom - less potent then actual Vampire's venom though - and the sharpness of them - until pulling back to float itself over to a pool of liquid where something white and tadpole lake swims within the ominious liquid.

The Mindflyer summons it out, bringing the floating white parasitic tadpole over to my trapped body in the pod where desperation begins to seep into me that I start to thrash in restraints holding me trapped within the pod.

"NO.....DON'T YOU....DARE....BR..."

Shouting loudly in the large chamber only for a clawed hand grabs hold my whole face - completely covering it - to slam the back of my head against the back of the curved pod-wall with a sickening crack reaching my ears.

My whole body goes limp in the pod, blood trickling down the back of the nape of my neck along with dizziness overwhelming me it allows the Mindflyer to remove their hand from my face to slip it around to wrench my head back by my hair.

A faint whimper escapes me due to the radiating pain from my head injury, fingers twitching uselessly - itching to raise up and claw the face of the Mindflyer but can't - seeing the white parasite-like tadpole being brought up to my right eye.

It's gnashing teeth inch closer and closer, until the thing lunges straight inwards it sends immediate writhing, unexplainable pain throughout my nerves, blood and especially head.

It feels like my skull is splitting apart - memories being shattered apart into tiny fragments by the burrowing parasite-like tadpole I cannot grasp them to save from being destroyed - until finally having completed it's task the pain stops.

Wetness is trickling down my cheeks, but it's not even affecting the Mindflyer in front of me who floats away to shut the pod leaving me alone with nothing left in my mind - I cannot remember any face who appears as I try to remember with it trickling away like sand through one's fingertips.

A harsh sharp blinding pulsating wave through my head from the parasite-like tadpole inhibiting it knocking me into an unconcious state.

I try to fight back, resist only to feel myself in mind harshly wrenched downwards to a black abyss falling slowly until landing in large lake of crimson where the waters of it begin to submerge my body - moving rapidy upwards - until the last sight I see floating above me is mirror image.

It's pale, white hand comes down to cover my face pushing me it back so I become fully submerged underneath the crimson waters - trapped beneath it, reminding of when my Master Cazador had placed me in sealed coffin as punishment for disobeying him.

It's the only I remember and nothing else. Nothing at all.

Not even the person who stirred up thoughts of woodland, warmth and hazel brown eyes ringed with gold.

What did it mean?

Who was this person?

Did I seduce them to take to Cazador?

I cannot remember.......I cannot remember.......

-----------------------------------------------------------

[theannoyedskittle]

My vote was Boba buuuuttt Fang mentioned one of our other rps and I want to talk about sci-fi lol

Fang's Vote

WEYLAN! (aka: ""vent boy"")

From me & Fang's Metroid/Star Wars/Sci-First adventure

This was right off the bat btw ::

JD is your typical rougish bounty hunter piloting the craft The Neverland with his AI assistant Trixie (who looks like Tinkerbell). Aeryn is a cargo pilot who was attempting to make a delivery. JD boarded Aeryn's ship to catch a bounty and during the scuffle the ship ended up crashing. JD and Aeryn agreed to work together to get off-planet.

They come across a mining station/city that was established. They quickly found out the entire planet was infested with parasitic worms that led the population to essentially turn into zombies. The pair found out that the target JD was after also survived the crash - a small team of thieves. Led by Alpha, their main target Delta, and two others.

Everyone agreed to work together to survive. After managing to escape the horde, they found a young boy (around Delta's age ~17-18) who was a citizen if the town. His dad was a general handyman, and the boy, Weylan, admitted that the miners found something and it led to this.

He never found any other survivors until now.

He had been using his father's teachings of how the vents/tunnels connect in the ceiling and below the structures of the settlement - only leaving for whatever food he could find and escaping without being seen. At this moment only JD, Aeryn, Alpha, Delta and Weylan were alive.

However their scent was giving them away. Weylan let them know of a signal booster and JD had a plan to send an SOS to Trixie who was nearby waiting. They had to go get the booster, however. In the night they made a dash for the booster located in a warehouse - using Weylan's knowledge of the vents. Aeryn convinced JD to get Weylan off-planet as well (it didn't take a lot to convince him, the kid was going to die if they didn't- either by zombie worm people or by starvation). Delta agreed to come quietly if they survive this as she was JD's main target, Alpha had agreed to keep her safe despite their usual criminal activity. Delta was new and he had been deliberately giving her easier missions - he was a gruff older soldier-like man and it was apparent he took to Delta like she was a daughter.

The team was caught, swarm came flooding in. Gnashing teeth and bloodied hands trying to claw at them, JD managed to get the booster and everyone got into a tunnel, Alpha ended up breaking his arm in the process. (The amount of red flags this man had btw...)

The horde was following their scent. They knew they didn't have a lot of time. They took the tunnels to where they needed to go - somewhere high - the signal tower. They still had to ascend and pray Trixie was looking for them. The horde however was starting to infest the tunnels.

Finally reaching their goal, the team climbed. Blasts firing from their weapons to buy them time, tires and hungry from the ship crash and this journey. Higher. Higher. Finally reaching the top, and everyone climbing to the roof, the stairs creaking and groaning with the amount of bodies weighing it down. Trixie got the signal and was coming as fast as she could, Weylan never shot a gun so Aeryn was guarding him, JD covering and Alpha and Delta holding their own. But the stairs snapped, they still needed some time. Alpha gave Delta his speech, and with a grenade in hand, gave the team the opening they needed to flee.

The surviving 4 got to the Neverland. And quickly fled the planet.

Once in orbit, the two youngers took their breath of safety, and just cried. Weylan saw his parents get ripped to shreds, his friends, neighbors. Mutated into twisted bodies of flesh and alien life. Delta, now going by her name Allie, experienced the end of a nightmare but lost someone she considered a father. Aeryn and JD now have the responsibility of helping them recover.

As the story goes, Weylan took his trauma and turned it into his own goal - his strength. Swearing that nobody should experience that and that he will find the source of the plague and see to it's destruction. He went from a boy barely holding on - starving and living in vents like a rat, to someone who can laugh, fight and interact. He's a goofy teenager who got a second chance to live.

which oc would you say was your ‘oc of the year’? (because you made them this year, they had the most development this year, or you just feel like it)

[mangemaw]

Yuisa Echevarria

The Echevarrias have been in Port Leiry since 20s, at the end of a long haul whereby their pack, the Metztli, were slowly pushed north starting in the mid 1880s after Hunters were brought in by the local populations of the Tecate border region to push them out. Eventually, the Metztli and their witch-wives, a coven called Cuetlāchtlicihuatl, were absorbed into the various communities within Port Leiry's blooming supernatural societal infrastructure. Yuisa's grandfather was killed in his bid to challenge the Warwick alpha of the times and the Metztli joined their ranks. A couple generations, some patricide and fratricide, and plenty of muscle later, and Yuisa stands, the head of her remaining family, running rackets out of Port Leiry's dockyards districts from a dingy bar called the Portside. Nothing goes in or out of Port Leiry's shipping lanes without her getting a whiff of it, putting her in a unique position, one that's powerful, but obviously not quite the most secure. She challenged her own father for control of this tiny empire, killing him to earn the triumph and respect of his people, and stepping into his role as a second mind for the Warwick Alpha.

Years later and she feels Warwick and the werewolf community of the city have grown largely and dangerously complacent, pointing to their lack of involvement in the wider running of the city and the continued existence of Harford pack as evidence of this. She plays the part of a loyal wolf to Marcia Cruz, but she has never been afraid of expressing her points of dissension, which makes her word as valuable and trustworthy as the muscle and money she provides.

Yuisa Echevarria (She/Her) “Private Security” 36 Years Old Lesbian Warwick Werewolf Born in Port Leiry ++ Cunning, Ardent, Strong, Charismatic - - Ruthless, Judgemental, Violent, Vicious

Other Species:

Vampires: Necessary evil that we work with them sometimes - use the connections and resources they offer, never trust them, and off them when given the opportunity to do so.

Witches: Largely innocuous if left to their own devices; like vampires they’re best treated as useful idiots where appropriate and best discarded.

Mutt Wolves: The Runoff of wolves who don’t know how to secure the kill. Unworthy of pretty much anything except being put out of their misery. Play nice with them in public of course, but never hesitate to let them know that they aren’t welcome or wanted.

Humans: Meat and Money. Useful for filling the coffers or the belly of the Wolf.

Hunters: Spiced Meat. Convenient guns to be aimed at others.

Other Packs:

Warwick: The Pack is her mother. The Pack is her father. She respects no authority but the gnashing fangs of the Alpha. She supports the Warwick alpha by ensuring the pack is paid proper respect and its purity is maintained. She puts the pack before everything though, and that includes the Alpha.

Cerberus: A miserable pile of mongrels,led by wizzened wolfs who lead by merit of little other than age like the rest of their feckless web of packs. While Yuisa has no specific reason to hate Cerberus beyond pack politics and a genuine disrespect for mutt wolves, she exercises little to no caution or tact around the stink of their pack ranks.

Harford: If Cerberus is an annoying little pack of mistakes, Harford is Warwick’s personal shame. The family should have been shredded into nothing but meat before it had the chance to find safety and redoubt enough to become its own full-fledged, motley pack. She thinks Warwick needs to be more aggressive in correcting Harford’s existence.

Eventide: A bunch of weirdo lycanthrope hippies in their weird little lycanthrope hippy communes. She’d agree with them more if they had standards for who they took into their pack, but both the presence of mutt-wolves and an Alpha who she views as, far, far too gentle prevents the development of anything she could even begin to call respect. Genuinely just assumes they’ll be wiped out by one thing or another within a few years.

Connects: You could run into Yuisa if:

Family: The Echevarria family took a plummet in recent years; Yuisa killing bother her father and older brother during her move to sieze power, and her younger sister fleeing into Harford, allowed to live only for the appeal of her younger brother, the only sibling Yuisa still has with whom she cares to interact. The siblings' mother is a estranged and anonymous witch, likely somewhere among the Phial or Garnett, who can trace her legacy back to the Cuetlāchtlicihuatl witch coven.

Criminal element: Whether you're inside Yuisa's trusted inner circle (Warwick only) or one of the various dealersl, fences, or witches she deals with in the day to day operation of her small but potent operation, things are likely a tense and terse mix of respect or intimidation. Yuisa is not afraid to get her hands dirty if people within this circle of hers jeopardize things.

Local Law: Her actions are somewhat shielded by a handful of contacts inside of the PLPD, and it's one of the few ways in which she is willing to prostrate herself to anyone outside of the Warwick Alpha, but rest assured that the ball she plays with any Port Leiry cop is going to be on the assumption of mutually assured destruction if things ever sour.

Other Wolves: If you're not Warwick, she might want to recruit you unless you're a Mutt (turned wolf), in which case things take two paths, violent or dismissive, depending on the situation. She harbors an essentially intense hatred for Harford Pack, however, and is not above simply picking fights with them in or out of Warform.

Vampires: Vampires control a lot of Port Leiry's underbelly, but Yuisa and her people control the Ports, making interfacing between mandatory so long as it is mutually beneficial.

Witches: It's 50/50 on if she gives you the time of day - if she likes you, sure, there's maybe even friendship potential there; her family's respect for witches boils down to the idea that breeding with them creates stronger wolves, and so Yuisa is in an interesting position as somebody who has no real desire produce any sort of scion.

Hunters: Run.

[sparrowsong-7]

Alone Time

Enough angst, have some fluff.

[ft. @cindernet-exploded's A'vyra] [He/She/They for A'vyra(catboy)]

[cindernet-exploded]

ockiss - day 6

[ft. @sparrowsong-7's Senna and Fayne]

left to right: [She/Her for Senna] [He/She/They for A'vyra] [She/Her for Fayne]

[observeroflaplace]

Grail War AU 2

Clash

Standing atop a many-headed beast, a stocky figure clad head to toe in armour, save for bare her left leg, peers down at her foe. Her monstrous steed, clearly not of this world, beats its wings to remain airborn despite its size and clear ferocity.

Her foe glares up at her. She is a tall woman with short, braided hair and golden regalia reminiscent of the Roman imperial armour, accented by a bright red cape. Cavalry sabre and shield in hand, the surface of the water ripples beneath her despite supporting her weight.

“Interesting.” The warrior mounting the demonic beast mused; 15 snarling faces of her steed glaring at her foe as a predator sizing up its prey.

“You are blessed by water it seems. A trait not unheard of, but a rarity nonetheless. Perhaps you have shown your hand, Saber.”

‘Saber’ scoffs.

“You are no closer to comprehending my greatness for it.”

“And you, no closer to reaching me. Without your trump card, what hope does a servant summoned to the Saber class have of reaching me in the heavens?”

With haughty irritation, Saber points her blade towards her foe. With the distinctly resounding bang of a ship’s cannon, a burst of golden light bursts forth from her blade towards the offending beast’s wings, in order to ground its rider.

Though supernaturally nimble, not least due to the inhuman skill of its rider, the great beast is unable to evade entirely; though rather than tear through its wing, the armoured woman guides the winged monster such that its hide is grazed and not struck head on.

Saber’s assault continues; an onslaught of magical radiant blasts, suppressing the movements of even the supernaturally swift monster and rider. Still, though three of the 15 faces of the monstrous mount are seared away by burning radiance, several heads lunge with gnashing fangs and stretching necks, akin to great serpents, the hydra, or even dragons.

Saber is caught momentarily off-guard, barely fending off the many vicious maws seeking to tear her apart with her blade and hoplite. As the beast begins to reach her armour however, Saber shines a brief but intense flicker of red, and she smiles.

“Very well, master.”

Golden light erupts from the taller woman’s body, enveloping her in a blinding pillar. Such was the intensity and sheer force that the monster’s heads were forced away and burned to ash and mana. Still, the monster possessed awareness through faces on its scorched wings, and took flight for what appeared to be the rider’s desperate attempt to retreat and counterattack.

The scope of this attack, capable of razing a fortress and the forces within would not allow such an easy escape.

[Victoria Brittanica - Embodiment of Promised Victory]

Saber gathers the flowing magical energies freely surging from within her through her blade, holding it high. With a great one-handed swing, she brings it down in a vertical arc; wherein the concentrated mana explodes outwards, parting the lake for a time and engulfing the fleeing rider and beast.

With a bright flash and the gradual flow of displaced waters finally returning to place, Saber slumps in momentary exhaustion, catching her breath. The attack, though certainly fatal, not only exposed her true identity, but also greatly taxed her and her master’s reserves of magical energy.

Yet, to her horror, her foe stood before her, in what little remained of the parted lake’s bed that had not yet been reclaimed. The woman’s armour had changed, with a burned greave depicting wings and a few small mask motifs now on her formerly bare leg, and her helm briefly floating above her, as the grotesque face of a beheaded demon.

“It appears you win this round, Saber. However, know that an empire of recent history is nothing before a king of the age of gods.”

Taking advantage of Saber’s evident exhaustion, the other woman and her leering companion vanish into glittering particles of mana, and the water displaced by the final blow swallows their former foothold.

In the distance, gazing at the scene through binoculars, a tall and lean man with dark hair scowls. He grips his fist in frustration, revealing the faded red brand; one of three command seals wasted.

[winxanity-ii]

YEAH, NO.

ship: jjk men: megumi & yuji x fem!miko!reader warnings: non-explicit word count: 1.2k a/n: Writer's block a bitch lol. Here's a short one-shot of something I have on the backburner (or not) we'll see how my hectic mind goes...

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌��‌`·.·★

Your feet pounded against the pavement, breath coming in sharp bursts.

You were clutching a bag of freshly baked buns—a little present for Hana. The aroma of warm bread mixed with the cool night air.

Spirits? Haunting? Weren't your concern tonight—until they were.

You slipped into a narrow backstreet, missing the almost invisible, mystical black curtain that separated the world you knew from the world you shouldn't.

You were in the blind spot of the universe, and it was about to show you its hidden scars.

The alley was dark, barely lit by the flickering streetlights that created a patchwork of shadows along the ground. The air felt charged, heavy with a foreboding energy that made the hairs on your arms stand on end.

You slowed down, your heart thumping as if it too sensed the danger.

Ahead, the sound of battle echoed through the narrow space—a clash of energy, a flurry of movement. It was like watching a dance but with deadly consequences. Two figures moved with an almost supernatural grace, their bodies blurring through the shadows.

Fushiguro Megumi was like an artist, each movement a brushstroke sealing away malevolent energy. His raven-black hair was tousled and damp with sweat, some strands sticking to his forehead as he darted around, dark blue eyes narrowed in fierce concentration.

His fingers wove through the air, creating intricate patterns that summoned shadowy beasts—his shikigami. Almost done, he thought, ignoring the strain in his muscles.

Itadori Yuji standing atop the crumbling remains of a half-destroyed building, was the muscle. His short, tousled pink hair glistened under the dim light, a stark contrast to the darkness around him. His brown eyes, usually warm and playful, were now sharp and focused, locked onto the wriggling curse in his grasp.

He held it effortlessly with one arm, his feet balanced on the edge of the building like a gargoyle with an attitude. "Stay still, damn it!" he growled as the curse writhed and hissed, its grotesque form twisting in an attempt to escape his grasp; its eyes, filled with malevolent intent, glowed with a sickly yellow light, casting eerie shadows on Yuji's face.

Just as Megumi's hands locked in the final gesture, you came to a sudden, jarring stop. Your eyes widened at the sight before you—a scene straight out of a nightmare.

What the hell was happening here?

Yuji's sharp eyes darted toward you, instantly spotting the unexpected spectator. He dropped from his perch, landing softly on the ground despite the height; his movements fluid and controlled, the curse in his arms writhing, his expression shifting from surprise to confusion as he called out, "Hey, Megumi! Who's the girl?"

Megumi swiveled around, his intense gaze locking onto you. For a second, the world seemed to blur; his dark blue eyes, piercing and calculating, narrowed as they assessed you. Who was she? How did she get here? Why didn't I sense her? "How did you—"

Before he could finish, disaster struck.

The curse Yuji had been holding broke free, wriggling out of his grasp with a bone-chilling screech. "Oops," he mumbled, eyes widening as the creature scuttled away, its jagged limbs scraping against the pavement. "My bad..."

You couldn't hold back your shock. A yelp escaped your lips, your body reflexively stepping back.

The curse screeched again, its gnarled limbs and gnashing form twisting as it turned, its eyes locking onto you.

You could see it. Oh Gods, you could see it, and it saw you.

Time slowed as the curse lunged at you, its mouth wide open, fangs dripping with malicious energy.

Just as you braced yourself for impact, you were yanked back, your body colliding with Yuji's firm chest. His arms wrapped around you protectively, his grip solid and reassuring.

Without missing a beat, his fist glowed with an ethereal light, his eyes narrowing with fierce determination. He threw a powerful punch, his knuckles connecting with the curse and sending it flying into a crumbling wall.

The impact was so intense that the ground beneath you shook, debris raining down from above.

Before the curse could even attempt to recover, Megumi's shadowy shikigami dogs pounced on it, their jaws snapping and tearing into its twisted form until there was nothing left but wisps of cursed energy dissolving into the night.

The pinkette released you, his arms loosening around your frame as he took a step back. You stumbled out of his hold, your mind racing with unspoken profanities. What the fuck was that!?

He looked at you, a boyish grin spreading across his face as he scratched the back of his head, his expression suddenly sheepish. "Well, that was something, huh?" he said, attempting to lighten the mood, his earlier intensity melting away.

Silence blanketed the three of you as the reality of what just happened set in.

Yuji then tilted his head, innocent curiosity in his eyes. "Hey lady, did you see that curse?"

Your poker face snapped back into place, but your hands trembled like leaves in the wind. "C-Curse? Whaaa? Pssh, curses aren't real; of course I didn't see anything."

Idiot. Why did you stammer? Now they know.

Yuji glanced back at Megumi, puzzled. "Megumi, she says she didn't see anything."

Megumi rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "Of course you'd believe that."

Desperation tingled down your spine. You were almost pleading now. "No. No. Please, believe me. I didn't see anything. Actually, I think I'm lost; see I'm not from—"

A sinister second mouth erupted on Yuji's cheek, sharp teeth glinting as it stretched into a mocking grin. "Say what you will, but we all know you're lying," it sneered.

WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?!

Yuji clamped his hand over his cheek, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. "Ahaha, wow, these mosquitos sure are out tonight!" he said quickly, his fingers pressing down as if trying to silence the grotesque mouth.

"Y-y-your..." You staggered backward, heart pounding like a war drum in your chest, every instinct in your body screaming at you to run.

Move, move, move! your mind screamed.

"Hey, hey, calm down! It's just a trick of the light," Yuji began, taking a cautious step toward you.

But he was interrupted again. A demonic eye and mouth appeared on the back of his hand, the tongue flicking out mockingly. "Boo!" it taunted, the mouth curling into a cruel smile.

Ignoring your desire to scream, you reined in your emotions.

You gave a 90-degree bow, every muscle in your body coiled like a spring. "You're right, sir, it's just a trick of the lighting. Have a good night and safe travels," your voice relaying a calm disposition you wished you had.

Turning on your heels, you strode forward, eager to escape this madness. But fate had other plans.

You bumped right into Megumi, your nose smacking into his chest. His uniform was surprisingly warm, and the scent of cedar and a hint of sweat enveloped you. Your entire frame froze.

Please, Gods, if any of you exist up there...

Megumi's hand instinctively found your waist, steadying you. He leaned down, his voice a low whisper that sent a chill down your spine. "We'll see about that," he murmured, eyes narrowing ith a calculating intensity that made your stomach flip.

...get me out of this mess!

A/N: If you haven't, I recommend the anime/manga "Mieruko-Chan" it's hilarious asf 😫😫 Miko is my spirit animal because if i can see ghosts, I'll be damned if I let them know, I'll pretend to see not a DAMN THING until the day I die 😭😭😭😭

[house-of-laminations]

Hi there! I absolutely love your "From Afar" series! The way you wrote the brothers so sinister really is awesome! I wonder, if there's any personal headcannons you have about their "true" forms?

Thanks so much! You have no idea how happy being asked this makes me bc its so fun to think about!

Before I start I want to give a big shoutout to @itsthesinbin and @vidyagamereference for bouncing around ideas and inspiring a large part of this. You guys are phenomenal 💛

I guess to start with I'll mention that I personally headcanon that 'true form', kinda like 'human form', 'angel form', and 'demon form' are just ways of addressing how they're currently presenting. I feel like their shapes can change with their emotions, their desires, the influence of humanity, etc, but there are some constants, and a level of comfort and familiarity.

Lucifer existed before humans, before demons, before the physical, and even before light. 'Humanoid' form for him is one that he's known for a shorter time compared to how he existed before. Looking at his true form is like staring at the collision of supernovas from the edge of the event horizon. It draws you in, and you feel like you could get closer without falling.

Mammon is all sharp beaks and wings and claws that grasp and catch in your hair. There is gold and gems and precious metals that cut into hands and faces, bleeding him dry. Its messy and writhing and busy and completely distracts from the centre, which is completely hollow.

Leviathan is freezing. His is the dark sea that swirls beneath your ship, that ominous shape you swear was moving but it's so big, it can't be anything alive. Black snake-like scales span and wrap and warp around and around and around and you cannot see their beginning or their end. Poison drips from his tongue, and his teeth are large enough to consume the entire world. Within his form are currents and riptides that threaten to drag you down and crush.

For all that he is the "fourth brother", Satan as an individual being is still quite young. This is shown in the way that he reflects the shapes of humans, creatures, and spirits much more concretely. His form is razor wire and sharp edges that tie together bones and broken glass. A sword juts through the skull of a horse, creating the visage of a grotesque unicorn. This form would be heralded as an omen of war and death and retribution - that is, if you could leave with your eyes or your sanity in tact.

Asmodeus is beautiful. Not because his many eyes and faces and limbs that clutch at his own figure fit into any human standard of beauty but because he very clearly loves himself and everything that he is. He's lighter than air, a mist that fills the air and your senses, suffocating you. You breathe him in until you can't breathe without him.

Beelzebub sounds like the buzz of flies and gnashing teeth. Everywhere you look is a mouth with teeth and fangs, sharp and blunt to bite and chew at every imaginable offering. Some appear to even be consuming themselves. He is both one singular entity and many - a host of flies feasting on himself as carrion, a sprawling, yawning void that increases until it threatens to consume everything.

You're lucky that Belphegor even manifests himself physically at all. When he tires of human or 'demon' shape, you could find him in the heavy, dark mists that crawl through the countryside and cut you off from everyone you know. He's the comforting weight of isolation, of nihilistic realism. Occasionally in this mist you might see the shining of a star - or is that perhaps the remnants of a halo? - glowing with hope but too far away for you to ever reach

Diavolo has an allure that beckons to human souls, that promises everything they could desire: love, wealth, power. That is, until you get too close and by then it's too late to see his jaws clench into you, claiming you. Get too close and you see the horns and the claws and the chains that bind him together, holding in that suffocating miasma that is every unkind thought you've ever had.

Watching Barbatos is like trying to watch a movie that occasionally misses a few frames. These dropped frames reappear in his movements later on, until you're unsure what or when you're looking at. Like Leviathan you could mistake him for a serpent, though Barbatos is both more and less distinct. You think, maybe, it could be swallowing its own tail, but there you see another tail wrapping around and strangling the head.

Simeon has many faces. A lion, an own, a snake. He has two, no - three? six? wings, though their feathers are made of dripping viscous oil and are burning away in places. His halo is a ring (a chain) that keeps him bound, cutting back the wings that try to vie for freedom.

If Lucifer is a supernova, then Luke is all the potential of a nebula, with star stuff chaotically drawn towards a small, bright centre. He still doesn't really know who he is or who he wants to be, and that's reflected in the way his form scatters and brings itself together, but there is one consistency: the shape that settles the easiest is one with a human heart.

Describing cosmic horrors beyond human comprehension can get kinda vague, so I hope that I was able to get across the vibe that I imagine at the very least! I personally also really love these depictions by Mirlambda!! They're so beautiful!

[jaskierswolf]

A Lethal Combination

Another ficlet for @thewitcherbog's teef week!

Ship: Geraskier (pre-relationship)

CW: severe prejudice against witchers, cutagens (Geralt has wolf ears and tail... although I don't think Jaskier ever sees the tail)

_

Witchers were fearsome and terrifying creatures. Every young child was taught that, from king to pauper. They were inhuman beasts that would tear your child away in the dead of night, creating a brand new monster from the innocent babe. As a result witchers were chased out of towns, unless there was dire need for a monster slayer, and many humans could go a whole lifetime without seeing the almost legendary creature.

So, when Jaskier spotted the strange looking man in the darkest corner of the tavern, he just knew he had to go and investigate. None of his peers from Oxenfurt could say they’d ever met a witcher, least of all that hack Valdo Marx, and Jaskier was curious to a fault. He couldn’t wait to return to Oxenfurt in the fall and tell his roommate of his adventures with such a mythical beast. The witcher’s eyes glanced up at him as he approached, glowing in the candlelight like a cat in the dark. His hood was pulled up over his head, and faster than lightning he’d reached for his swords.

“I’ll leave,” the witcher grumbled, “I don’t want to cause a fuss, but I will defend my life if I have to.”

Jaskier’s heart sank.

What sort of life did a witcher lead, if one couldn’t even say hello without being deemed a threat to life? Jaskier was a bard for Lillit’s sake, he could hardly challenge a witcher.

“Oh, oh no. No, no, no. I don’t want to fight, just talk,” Jaskier reassured him, cocking his head as he very clearly checked the mysterious man out. From what Jaskier could see, which, granted, wasn’t much, the man was very handsome, and Jaskier had always been attracted to danger.

“Hmm.”

“No, really. You see, I’ve never met a witcher before,” Jaskier purred as he slid into the bench opposite the man. “You could say I’m intrigued.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You don’t say much do you?”

“Go away,” the witcher snarled, revealing a set of glistening sharp fangs.

Oh gods, Jaskier was weak.

“You don’t scare me witcher,” he lied, sort of, he was scared but he was also very, very, horny.

The witcher’s nostrils flared, and very slowly, he pulled down his hood, revealing a pair of white fluffy ears amongst the silver locks. Jaskier couldn’t contain his shriek of excitement as his hands clapped over his mouth.

“Oh gods, you’re adorable!” he hissed, trying not to speak too loudly, lest he draw the attention of the other people in the room.

The witcher, who Jaskier was now certain was the famed Geralt of Rivia judging by his white hair, snarled again, gnashing his teeth in a way that was surely meant to be terrifying. The only issue was, his ears twitched as he did, and a delighted cackle escaped Jaskier’s lips.

“Oooh,” he cooed, “scary face, but I bet you’re a big old softie really, aren’t you?”

Geralt hummed, narrowing his eyes, still baring his fangs, but it was too late. Jaskier was completely smitten. This witcher was both hot and adorable, and Jaskier was just too weak to resist such a tempting combination.

“Let me come with you, Geralt, please?” Jaskier pouted, practically batting his eyelids at the supposed monster from his childhood storybooks.

His mother would be disgusted, and Jaskier honestly didn’t give a shit.

Geralt cocked his head, his tongue running along the sharp incisors in his mouth as he glared at Jaskier. “Hmm, fine, but be quiet.”

“As a lamb!” Jaskier promised, knowing he’d never manage to keep it, and judging by the way Geralt rolled his eyes, he knew too, but it didn’t matter.

They were going on an adventure, and Jaskier couldn’t wait!

_

Taglist undercut:

@geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde, @comfyswitcherblanketfort, @fontegagrilledcheese, @dani-dandelino, @dapandapod @unyielding-as-the-sea @officerjennie @feraljaskier @geralt-of-riviass @kueble @gilberik @llamasdumpsterfire

[lowetyde]

pirates. a word that once sent shivers down his spine now elicited no more than a low chuckle. the jolly roger's numbers dwindled, fewer remaining each year. evidently, peter was killing them off faster than they could recover ( wayward ships or marooned sailors were a rarity, making it impossible to build numbers aside from the occasional defective lost boy ). those that remained lacked the essential intimidating prowess of their predecessors. all bark, no bite. the look in their eyes lacked the bloodlust that all those old salt-dogs were infamous for. this lot seemed more inclined to enjoy a mild chat with their adversary than take action. not that marlowe minded at all. he liked to play with his food.

this meal in particular had proven themself to be particularly fun, albeit irritatingly smug at times. the human's words tickled at his ears with the same rhythmic purr of a cello's plucked strings. their accent sugared each word like honey— no, bourbon. marlowe cared less for what was actually being said, rather, basking in the intoxicating sound of that derisive tone. cheeky, they were. full of gall and whit. they were one of the talkers, their voice so delicious. so sweet it made him sick. the merman’s stomach curdled and teeth gnashed. all he had to do was reach forward and pluck that sharp tongue out from behind curled, mocking lips. what would they be then, without their weapon ?

claws splintered into the old wood and, though his arm quivered, he pulled his chest further out of the cold water. the chill of night air kissed his dripping skin. marlowe’s arms rested upon the upper rim, but even as he readjusted himself, further impeding upon the other's space, his icy stare was uninterrupted. all it would take was one swift, hard beat of his tail to fully throw his body into the raft.

" you are not above scandal though, are you ? why else venture these waters at this dark hour, fit only for devils and deviants. seeking to satisfy a carnal craving, i daresay. " he purred each syllable, but, despite the sultry tone that drenched his words, the creature's eyes were dead. he had never quite mastered that part. the look of desire, of yearning, that his sisters wore so well. they could charade as love-struck damsels before revealing their fangs, unmasking their fatality. marlowe could never hide his hunger. his greed.

" come for another taste ? be warned : you're free to indulge but i bite back. let those others think what they want . . . our secrets will always be safe with me. "

It had been a risky idea, one Charlie had tried to warn them of, due to the dangerous lurking beneath the waves, though it was impossible to forget the sea beasts that lingered beneath the crystalline surface. A place Cecco once thought to call home, a territory they would have bravely ventured in without so much as even a pinch of hesitation or fear. But that was before . . . well, all of this. Before there were scarier things to fear than sharks or leeches. When the inhabitants of the sea changed depending on where they were, when they could actually venture some place new.

There had been something that was simply gnawing at the back of their mind for days now, something they missed so dearly. How vastly different the ocean was when the sun was away. The different fish, the colors, the smells. Something they hadn't gotten to see in far too long. Something that needed to be changed. Was it dangerous? Absolutely. Neverlands waters were less safe than any brig could be, but if it silenced that nagging in their mind, then it was worth the risk. Plus, they could try to gather up a little bit of seaweed for the kitchen. And so, there they were, in a rickety rowboat beneath the silver moon, upon gently rocking waves. An unknowing player in a secret game.

They had been so close to the ship, for a moment, they even considered the thought that perhaps the mer-folk had simply taken their hunting to different grounds around the island. So much for wishful thinking. As the rowboat rocked violently against the water, Cecco's heart pounded in their chest, matching the erratic rhythm of the waves. They clung desperately to the sides of the vessel, knuckles white with tension as they struggled to maintain their balance. The voice that sliced through the darkness sent a shiver down Cecco's spine, a familiar yet unwelcome presence intruding upon their solitude, its playful tone belying the danger that lurked beneath the surface.

They had crossed paths with the merman before, their encounters always fraught with tension and danger. Each meeting was like a dance on the razor's edge, a delicate balance between desire and distrust, attraction and animosity. Cruel curiosity leading Cecco ever closer to the claws that currently clutched the edge of the rowboat. The taste of the mer's blood, sickeningly copper yet disgustingly intoxicating, like a poorly made mead being forced down their throat, lingered on the tip of their tongue.

Despite the familiarity of Marlowe's presence, Cecco's pulse quickened as they realized the gravity of the situation. Here they were, adrift on a moonlit sea, facing off against a creature whose motives were as inscrutable as the depths from which he emerged. A surge of adrenaline coursed through Cecco's veins, mingling with the salt-laden air as they braced themselves for whatever might come next. Their mind raced with a whirlwind of thoughts, memories of past encounters with the merman intertwining with the raw, primal instinct to survive. But as burnt umber hues took in the pale webbed hands that seemed to dig into the wood, dried lips curled up in a smirk that, whether true and genuine, or a simple façade to hide any nerves that might be arising, appeared mischievously amused.

"La mia perla splendente, don't you know it's scandalous to ask such things at this time of night? What would others think?"

Cecco's voice rang out across the water, dripping with sarcasm and a hint of playful mischief. They tilted their head, a smirk playing at the corners of their lips as they met Marlowe's gaze head-on. It was a game they knew well, this dance of words and wits, a battle of wills that played out on the stage of the moonlit sea. But beneath the façade of bravado lay a gnawing uncertainty, a nagging doubt that whispered of the dangers that lurked just beneath the surface. They knew all too well the perils of underestimating a merfolk, knew the sharpness of his wit matched only by the ferocity of his claws.

[sparrowsong-7]

Panic

[ft. @cindernet-exploded's A'vyra]

[He/She/They for A'vyra(catboy)]

[They/Them for Crescent (Idiot riding the monster)]

[cindernet-exploded]

Starlight Dates

[ft. @sparrowsong-7's Fayne] [He/She/They for A'vyra (catboy)]