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fawnsflowerbed · 6 months ago

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♡ Picture Perfect ♡

A/N: COMMISSION FOR MY LOVELY SUNSHINE ANON!!!! Thank you so so so much for your support and patience my love, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!!!!

Content/warnings: Puppy! hybrid reader x Vendetta era! Leon, 2nd person (you/yours), fem AFAB reader, reader calls Leon daddy, very grump x sunshine, lots and lots of fluff, a moment of angst and realisation but it all gets resolved :3

Word count: 7700 est. (sweet jesus)

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Leon hadn’t gone to a shelter expecting anything. An act of service, he told himself. That’s what this was. Entertaining the idea of adoption. Like people who drop loose change into charity boxes, the ones by the cash register with scuffed edges, to feel better about themselves. Right now he feels like the scuffed one.

‘Go to the shelter,’ Chris said. ‘Hybrids make good companions,’ Chris said. He was vouching for his fellow soldiers at the BSAA, stick-up-the-butt men with trained military hounds. And judging by the posters hung on the windows outside the pet store, satisfaction was guaranteed. So he expected to enter a building of colourful lights, cheery music, and happy hybrids as far as the eye could see. Fluttering butterflies, sunshine and rainbows. Just like the commercials on tv.

What a heap of shit. A smelly one, too. Big, steamy, stinky load of it. Those flyers were all smoke and mirrors, and let’s just say this was one hell of a broken mirror. The place reeked of bad luck. At least the stalls were cleaner than his conscience. Should he have actually done his research for this, even if it was just for appearances? It wasn’t the worst place in the world for him to go looking, right? No, right.

Leon had seen his fair share of hybrids in his time at the DSO. Missions where he took them out of labs, stopped genetic modification. Sick bastards they were, people prodding rabbits with all kinds of needles. Yeah, he enjoyed taking those types of operations down.

But he’d also seen the ones trotting around the office on occasion. Trained to sniff out B.O.W blood, or health herbs and antibiotics. And yeah, he was intrigued. Had watched the training rounds, memorised the starting commands, noted the stiff tail and hard gaze on every breed there. So he figured he may as well take a look at the less hard-ass offers.

God, what a mistake that was.

How had the mighty fallen so far? He’d planned to walk the dusty concrete floors with pride, to look down at the row upon row of hybrids only to decide no, he did not in fact, need a pet. A companion. A friend, a lover, whatever. No rabbits, no puppies, no kitties. He was too old for this shit. He’d seen it all before, lazing black cats and bouncy bunnies. Nothing stuck out to him, he’d tried. He could at least say he tried. From then on if anyone asked why his face would sink into a frown watching his coworkers bring in their happy-go-lucky hybrids, he had an open opportunity to rub a calloused palm over the salt-sweat skin of his neck and mutter that he tried.

That’s what mattered, right? Sure, that’s what mattered. He tried. He kept that thought in mind as workers tried introducing him to some of their more ‘respectable’ species, the fluffier cat girls and boxier dog boys. None of it was for him. All of this was a lost cause.

And then there you were.

Next thing he knew he had the thought of you living at his house stuck in the back of his head. Not just the back, though. No you’d left handprints - pawprints - over every fissure of his brain, burrowing into the ventricles. Now you were doing two little circles before settling into his cerebrum, digging at the surface to bury down nice and deep. Maybe bury a bone there. Extra comfy.

He’s stuck.

You’re a cutie. Pretty as a picture. A fine should be plastered across that sweet face for even existing, a paper bag over your head. It’s a crime for anything resembling you to exist, because otherwise Leon would’ve picked up every hybrid on the street. Those puppy-dog eyes pierced right through his soul like a bullet to the chest. And he left his kevlar vest at home, too. What a mistake.

A floppy eared thing, fluffed to the max, your tail tapping aimlessly behind you. Bored. Lonely. They kept the pup hybrids in separate kennels when the little kids weren’t here to meet them, so you were on your own. Eyes as big as saucers, he was sure they’d have popped out of your head by now like one of those squeeze toys, the ones you squish so they squeak something reedy and awful.

Glossy. You looked dejected, sad. Hopeful yet hopeless. In his mind he saw you bounding through long green grass in the dark night, nipping at fireflies between golden giggles. Watching you paw at the sky aimlessly, beckoning upon lightning bugs so you might try and ‘accidentally’ catch one in your mouth. You were made to be loved by someone.

It hurt. In a way you reminded him of his younger self. That cop, once bright eyed and bushy tailed, now decaying and withering into the husk of a human he was now. The one that burned down with the rest of whatever was left of Raccoon City.

And yeah, he wasn’t proud of this shelter specifically being his only pick of the bunch, there were hundreds he could’ve picked from. But this was a boot-out shelter, AKA they only hold onto hybrids for so long before kicking them to the curb. Just the thought of you, your fluffy self out on the streets..

He couldn’t let that happen to you.

And then those wet eyes fell on him and your tail swished quicker, your ears perking. Like a heartbeat picking up, a skipping pulse. You’re playing jump rope with the veins to his heart, his BPM’s music to those fuzzy ears. And that tail? Oh it’s swaying to the beat.

Something in your body seemed to click at the sight of him. It was an instinct, a switch flicking in your puppy brain. If he were in a movie this would be the part where time slows down and the camera focuses on his face and your own, panoramic view of the environment you both found yourselves in. Your face behind the bars, slowly shuffling your way towards him in curiosity.

That’s when he knew he had to take you home. Surely he was a better choice than the other scum that might get a hold of a soft thing like you. And you seemed sweet. So it was settled.

The paperwork was easy enough. Signing on dotted lines, signatures to his left and right. Handing over his credit card for the chance at ‘friendship’ or something like that. The only thing he truly recalled was leaving with you in the backseat, curled up against the car cushions.

Change. That’s what this would be.

You were well behaved. Quiet, too. At first anyway. Leon’s whole life had been thrown into disarray and all he had to do was give his credentials to some lady with a blurry nametag, confirm he wasn’t a psycho murderer or trying to Cruella DeVille you for your ears and tail. Which he absolutely didn’t have the time for, so no need to worry about that factor.

It only took a few hours for his house to be filled to the brim with new puppy gear. Collars and leashes of different colours (he couldn’t decide on those), squeaky toys and stuffed animals, comfy clothing, food and water bowls, and of course one of those playpens to lock up overnight. Leon wasn’t entirely educated on how to take care of you. Was he supposed to get you a room, a proper bed? How human was he supposed to treat you?

The overall adjustment period was fast, for you anyway. Sure, at first you’d gone all timid when he brought you home, staring up at this well-built, shaggy man in a leather jacket like he was about to lock you in your cage forever. Might be a poacher, your brain scrambled together, or one of those mill owners. Yeah, he looked the type. But as soon as you heard him whisper a “Well hey there, sweetheart,” in your direction in hopes of coaxing you out of the backseat you were set and smitten. And in case he was still hesitant, you gave him a pretty clear giveaway on how you felt. After he’d set up your cage in the living room, packed full of blankets and pillows atop your pet bed, and watched you practically dolphin dive into the sea of plush, it became clear you were truly just happy to have a home. You were happy to be with him.

Not like you spent many days in that puppy bed anyway, it only took a few days for you to come whimpering at Leon's feet in the night to climb under the blankets with him. And of course, he caved. How strong could you expect a man to be? Not to mention the stuffed toys you brought with you every time you hopped up, he’d become familiarised with all their names by the third week.

Sure, it’d been tough for Leon in some areas, but in some ways it was also easy. You brought solace where you went, and you knew better than to overstep boundaries. He found out quick enough that you didn’t entirely know what to address him as, ‘Leon’ felt strange for some gut reasons but ‘sir’ and ‘mister’ were too formal, so you immediately leapt to daddy. Which, of course, caught him horrendously off-guard. Almost sent him into cardiac arrest the first time you yipped it in his direction, a plaque of cholesterol, fat, and an unbelievable amount of cuteness clogging his arteries.

The worst part? After a few days he found himself enjoying it. Had his heart fluttering when you giggled it out as he ruffled your ears, rolling onto your back as he gave your belly an affectionate rub. Was he sick for liking it? Sure. He needed a doctor, stat. Symptoms included being extra ready to get home from work, planning his meals more thoroughly, and catching himself daydreaming more than usual. The diagnosis was a fluffy tailed sunshine puppy who trotted around behind him 24/7. A sweet shadow, a nosy thing. Prescribed treatment? Lots of cuddles, apparently. Cuddles, and plenty of daily shenanigans.

On one particular day he caught sight of you padding through the hallway slowly, looking up at all the photos he had hung upon the walls. Drinks with Claire and Chris on his birthday where he (begrudgingly) attended the surprise party they’d set up. Standing in the Whitehouse with some old man in a fancy suit. An old picture of just him sat atop the table below it all, his graduation photo from the police academy. He didn’t have the heart to throw it out. That was merely one of many old-news trinkets scattered around the house, objects that told a mixed story of Leon Kennedy. Well, now it was the house of Leon Kennedy and his puppy girl.

With a soft thud you sat your cute butt down on the floorboards to simply.. Stare. Examine, memorise, imagine what it was all like.

Maybe his hair was softer in this photo, shaggier in that. Darker features and rougher around the edges, as if someone had switched from watercolour to graphite, defining his jaw. More stubbled and strong now, with a broader frame. Like watching a tree trunk even out, sprouting tough branches, leaves coming to fall over his eyes in bangs. He needed a haircut soon.

However, in that moment of watching you, he knew he’d made the right decision. He saw it in the way the silhouette of your tail swished in interest, how your flopped ears perked up an inch whenever you focused on the finer details. Most of all he loved that signature puppy head-tilt. He got one of those whenever you didn’t understand what he was saying, be that garble about his work or the lulled out words from whatever book he read to you as you laid in his lap.

Yes, you laid in his lap now. And it was starting to feel so normal to him. The wagging tail in his peripheral vision, your eyes peeking up at his desk in his study. It all came so naturally, including the moments of chaos. One of which was the messy dance of getting you bathed, or dressed.

Baths. God, you stood your ground on baths. As soon as you heard the pipes squeal you took off like a rocket. Zoomed past the potted plants, darting through the backdoor if you could make it in time. Leon had to scoop you up mid-sprint as you wriggled and squeaked to get out of his hold, and shit did you run fast when you felt like it. Oh sure, you dragged your feet to snails-pace when you had to leave the park, but suddenly his puppy had the legs of a trackstar when it was bathtime. Once he actually had you in the warm water it was a whole other thing. You just couldn’t sit still for the life of you. Thank god for bath toys, or else you’d spend every second giving your flapping ears and soaked hair the signature wet dog shake. He turned his back? Shake. Reached for the shampoo? Shake. Went to turn the faucet on? Shake. He’d honestly rather you do that than try to jump out, and at least you got extra comfy with him when it came time to towel dry you. The last time he tried the hairdryer method you’d snapped and barked at the hot air like it was a personal affront, as if the loud hum was cursing you out in its own fan-whirring way. Then came the clothes.

On a good day he could wrangle you into a shirt of some kind (usually one of his own) and a pair of fluffy shorts with a hole in the back for your tail. On other days it was a tug-of-war fight over a v-neck because it’s obviously an invitation to play and growl between giggles and not Leon seriously begging a quiet “Baby- honey, no- Please, sweetheart, Chris is coming over and you can’t be butt naked, listen to daddy-”. Sometimes he really thought those floppy ears were just painted on. God, you were a little menace.

Luckily you were also adorable. Sure, a little dull, but so damn sweet. He couldn’t count how many times he’d pretend to throw a ball, watching you go sprinting out across the floorboards, slipping in your socks, in desperate search for it. Then it’s the head tilt, a routine trot around the coffee table, and sitting in the hall with a quiet whine. Vanished, poof, thin air. Gone. Not to worry, cause soon Leon calls out an ‘Oh look!’ and the ball has magically teleported back into his hand to your shock and awe. Pawing at his hand and begging him to explain how on earth he learned such witchcraft.

But there were a few things that threw him off guard about you, even after settling into this routine. For starters, your face. He didn’t mean that in a harmful way, he promises. Cross his heart and all that. But you were just so… gentle. Bright. Sometimes he found himself squinting at the sheer shine of you. Made him wonder if you came with batteries that just never got removed, corroded into place after years of chasing your own tail. Stuck on this constant sunshiney state with no way to power down.

And you were manufactured in some lab, a biological anomaly even he couldn’t wrap his head around. A person who wasn’t whole and yet was so much more than that. You contained multitudes, brought life and colour in ways those others may see a ‘normal’ never could. The pitch of your bark, your hatred - and he meant hatred - of squirrels, how fast you leapt at the opportunity for a ride in the car. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was proud to be the one to bring you home. That he was the one to trace the curves of your hand, to rub your ears, to hold you in his lap while watching late-night tv. This was good for him. This was good for both of you.

Day after day he found himself adoring you in a new way. A week ago he’d have dropped his head in his hands at the sight of you nosing his morning slippers towards his feet in the wee hours of the morning, now he can’t help but smile sleepily. Lopsided and scratchy from his beard. Because despite the energy threatening to burst from your body, you still took the time to sit and wait for him to get up.

He was a weak man now. A trained government agent was trailing behind his puppy girl in a pet store as you insisted on getting specifically that bunny with those ears cause it looked like the one that ran outside the living room window every day. And he listened to every ramble about said rabbit as you trotted to the cash register, plushie in mouth.

He’d fallen. Hard.

Time had passed in the blink of an eye before either of you could process it. Seasons blurred into a kaleidoscope of colours, and soon enough Leon found himself with a cuddle buddy more often than he did an empty bed. The feeling of your nose nuzzled into his shirt, strings of happy whimpers and whines mumbled from your sleepy lips, it all became his white noise. You’d made very quick friends with the sprinklers out in the yard by the time summer had rolled around, jumping back and forth over the swinging water in an attempt to catch it in your mouth. All Leon had to do was sit on the porch and watch in adoration.

What you both seemed to adore much less was when Leon left for work. It had you pawing at the windows with screeching nails, teary eyed and howling when he got home extra late. He didn’t have the heart to lock you up when he left, something about it made his chest strain. His poor girl, stuck in her little blanket cave, wondering where her daddy went. Pawing aimlessly at the wired frame, chewing on the gate between whimpers. He couldn’t bear the thought. It ached, in fact. You were hurting his heart without even doing anything.

But the past four days had been a nightmare. His first long term assignment since adopting you. Sure, Claire and Chris had done their best to entertain you since you couldn’t just be left home alone, plenty of toys and games and walks, but it just wasn’t it. You’d pace in little circles, whining and crying and crying and whining. Hours spent drying your tears with cooing and shushing from the Redfield siblings only to burst the pipes and sob some more. It was no use. Until he came back.

And now he had. After so many days (a million, you’d told Claire) without him, he was home.

The sound of his motorcycle - that he’d retired from everything other than work for obvious reasons, vis-à-vis your sensitive ears - was a dead giveaway, and soon enough you had your cheeks squished up against the front window yapping away till your vocal cords strained. God, wasn’t that a sight. Face lifted into a glowing grin, ear perked up, tail a wagging mess. You looked like a whirlwind had been stuffed down into a body, and you were ready to tear through his home. An oh so dangerous fuzzy tornado on the hunt for endless snuggles and belly rubs to swallow up, up, up into your cyclone of love.

You were gorgeous. You were adorable. You were everything he didn’t know he needed. He’d hardly stepped foot in the house and you were already jumping up to try and kiss and lick at his face with a thousand puppy kisses, tail wagging so fast you might just take flight. Like one of those cartoon dogs from those 80’s shows, ones Leon still can’t name to this day. That was the other good thing about all of this, you made him laugh. Chuckling hoarsely as he pushed past the door only to be met with your arms wrapped around him excitedly.

“Daddy, you’re back! You’re home! I missed you!” Yip, yip, bark. You were melting his heart, almost running yourself into the wall at the sheer buzz of excitement thrumming through your body.

Oh, how he’d missed you, rubbing that tender spot between your ears with a kiss to your hair.

You’d made him soft. A side of him he never knew existed came out when he got you.

“I missed you too, pup.” He could only shake his head with a tired grin, dropping his bag at the door by the coat rack and shoe cubby. He’d had to buy one since you’d developed the habit of stealing his slippers to use as makeshift mittens. “Be careful where you’re walking there, honey.”

You were too busy babbling away about everything you’d done while he was gone to hear him properly, from playing a gazillion games of fetch to daily trips to the park. How that chipmunk had purposely ticked you off so you pawed at a tree trunk yapping at it for a good 5 minutes. And of course, how you’d almost managed to finally catch your tail. Looking up at him with so much pure puppy love with every step you took backwards through the hallway with a quickly wagging tail. You couldn’t keep your eyes off him, you’d just missed him too much.

That tail of yours though, it was out of control. Swish, swish, wag, sway. Mind of its own. Too happy to have your daddy home to focus on anything else. Pure puppy love.

During your ramblings as Leon slowly worked at his shoelaces and zipper, all you could do was emphasise how happy you were that Chris had caved and let you visit the cafe downtown. Whilst mid explanation about what a ‘puppuccino’ was and how spectacular it tasted, the sudden smack of your fur against glass had you jumping in surprise. It seemed you’d collided with something in the midst of your excitement. The impact was followed by a loud crack, one that had Leon’s head pulling up to a swift stillness, no longer worried about getting his boots off.

“What was that?”

There’s a concoction of emotions in his voice. A cocktail of worry, concern, and an off sternness. He’s hardly ever been stern with you. The last time he had been, the sad look on your face had him faltering. Usually he was so comfortable with being stern, it flowed freely through his body like the familiar warmth of whiskey. It was something he was so used to. But he wasn’t used to those glossy eyes tearing up at him. He was just a man, after all. And you were his puppy.

That thought seemed to elude you both right now though, jolting to step away from the broken picture frame, looking down at the damage you’d done.

“Pup, are you-”

His academy graduation photo. You’d smacked it with your tail, and the frame had snapped.

All the colour drained from Leon’s face in one fell swoop. His calm, tired gaze ripped wide into one of shock, kicking his shoes into the shelves with a harsh thud.

“No- no no, no- shit!” His voice was a boom, it was loud and uncontrollable. Shaking the plaster of the walls with rolling thunder, his eyes zeroed in on the shattered glass, lightning crackling behind stormy blue eyes. Usually they looked so clear. Usually he was clear, his intentions and his love, how he was trying to and learning to get used to this life. And for a while he really was. “Goddamnit!”

And then this happened.

And it was scary. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but it frightened you. A dead giveaway was how your ears flattened against your hair, once wagging tail now dead still and tucked between your legs. You’re cowering.

You were afraid.

But Leon didn’t notice. No, this was the end of a short fuse after a long week of work. A flame to the stick of dynamite Leon Scott Kennedy sometimes found himself to be. This was not what he wanted to come home to. He was too busy pulling at his hair in a nostalgic wave of guilt, of horror clawing up his back, staring at the mess.

The mess you’d made.

Cracked fingers pick at the shattered glass in hopes of salvaging what he could, the sharp edges slicing at the flesh that had grown tender with your touch.

You’d made him soft.

Had that been a mistake?

It must have been with the way he flinched back, cursing under his breath. Shards of the frame bit at his fingers as if in anger, snapping dogs of his past. Not like his pup, not like his sweet girl curled up in the corner, wondering if this meant he hated her.

That wasn’t the worst part.

Right across the top corner of the photo the paper had been scratched, ripped by a stray piece of glass. Slicing through the date he’d graduated. The day he thought everything was going to start getting better way back when. The sight had his whole body frozen in place. Bracing for something to happen, because something always happened to him. The feeling building from his belly to his chest, from his chest to his eyes. It was sickeningly familiar. It was a bullet to Leon’s shoulder. It was the click of a lighter to a cigarette. The screams from an Eastern European church. His bloodied fists against Arias’ face. The mole in his unit.

It was the gunshot that ripped through his family home.

That’s what really set him off.

“This was the one thing I had from it all, this was it! The one good thing!” Rambling like a mad man, someone you’d watch talk to himself on the sidewalk late into the night. “And it was in such- such good condition. It was perfect. It was all perfect before you- Damn it, pup, why couldn’t you-”

By the time he’d finally turned to you, his words screeched to a halt. Brakes squealing at the velocity of such a hit, a surprise, he could feel his heart overturn. Rolling haphazardly down the highway. He couldn’t stop it, because he caused it. He caused such an accident. So busy running on empty thanks to work that the dried out tank had crushed beneath his feet, crunching steel caving so easily. Weak. You were weak for him. He was just only seeing it now.

He’d hurt your feelings, whether he meant to or not. Over an accident, no less.

He was the reason your body was quaking in fits similar to that of a leaf atop frozen winds. Why your eyes were shot open, glossy and round, like the first cracks in the icy pond at your favourite park making way for water. And you looked like you’d plunged through the surface.

Maybe the most awful detail of all was the fact that Leon simply didn’t know what to say to make this better.

Licking over his chapped lips, the air in his lungs seemed to dissipate. He was left breathless, and not in the way he usually liked to be. Not like when he watched you pick at the dandelions in the backyard, or when you chased your tail in circles to the point of dizziness. Someone had trapped him in a vacuum of consequences, leaving him to face them. To face you, you and those big puppy-dog eyes threatening to flood with tears. “Look I didn’t- Oh, c’mon. You know I didn’t mean it like-”

It wasn’t working. His words were getting caught in his throat, pulling a tense cough from his chest. As if the answer was teasingly scratching at his vocal chords and no amount of water could wash it away. He could feel his chest tighten, any trace of anger or frustration being flushed from his system. Now he could think clearly. He could see how heartbroken you were.

The biggest giveaway was how your body leaned in the direction of the living room without thinking, braced on your toes. An instinct dug deep beneath those layers of fuzz and the warmth of your hand in his own. Something to be left untouched, like a toy you’d buried in the backyard, under pile after pile of soil and past traumas.

Now Leon had dirt on his hands. The clouds in that stormy blue seemed to clear out, the moonlight streaming through the window like a lighthouse reflection. He was seeking you out, trying to let you know it was clear. That you were safe.

It just wasn’t enough.

“Hey.. Hey, no. Honey-

It was no use. He’d blinked and you were gone, left with the echo of your sock-clad footfalls against hardwood floors. Every step beating in unison with his pulse, his ears rang to the rhythm of your rushed breaths. Now you were the one pulling him along on a leash. Tugging at the weak retractable cords of his heartstrings, you’ve wrapped him around a tree once, twice, three times. His head was spinning, a splitting heat sizzling in his frontal lobe frying the edges of his mind until they curled.

Rubbing a hand over his face, smearing the guilt from cheek to cheek, up to his forehead. He was swimming in that grief. Mourning a time before this one, praying for a reset button. You had such a way of turning him inside out without knowing it, pulling his muscles and bone up from his anatomy to gnaw affectionately on his femur and nip at his biceps. He barely hid anything from you, he never felt the need to. Who were you going to tell? The mosquitos you stalked after with a batting tail in the cooler summer nights? Please. And half the time you didn’t really understand what was going on, anyway. So there was no harm in letting you lay your head in his lap while lounging on the couch, his voice a deep lullaby soothing you to sleep, aimlessly tapping your tail against the cushions. You were so pure. You didn’t mean any harm, you never did. Leon wasn’t sure you had one malicious bone in that cute body of yours.

How was he supposed to approach this, though? This had been the first major incident in your white-picket-fence-esque lifestyle. Did he go upstairs and change out of clothes dusted in gunpowder and shame? Try with a clean state so you had some time to yourself, some space? Is that what you wanted?

No. No, knowing your usually chipper clingy self that was probably the last thing you wanted. So he manned up, got his shit together. An unusual thing for him to say about himself, but he was in an unusual situation.

After shrugging his leather jacket off and leaving it to hang on the coat rack, he swore to leave his aggression with it. Tucked into the pockets and zipped tight, so he might save it for his next mission. There was no use in bringing shit like that into his home, where his girl was. So he’d let it gather like lint until the next time he washed it, then he’d let his conscience run through a spin cycle; in which he meant watching you do three little spins before settling into bed. You were better than any washing detergent, cleaned his slate better than disinfectant. They should sell your personality in stores, bottle your giggles for junkies to get hits off. You could be the next meth with how happy you made him, had him flying high as a kite.

And he’d made you so sad. He was your daddy, it was his job to keep you safe, not sad. Now he had to fix that.

Your playpen. It was a puppy’s dream to get the luxuries you did, most likely. Leon couldn’t help but spoil you with everything soft, plush and velvet. It matched you. And watching you lay in front of the window, squeaky toy mid squeal lodged between your jaws lazily, was worth all the money in the world to him. Everything you did drove him nuts, he was starting to realise why so many people suggested getting a hybrid. Leon hadn’t understood what the deal was until you arrived. And now? Oh, he needed a lobotomy at this rate, because all he could think of was you. Work? You. Driving? You. Hell, his breaktime at the office made him miss the way you’d yell ‘Are you doneeeeee?’ at him from down the hall, awaiting your allocated cuddle time. You had him chasing his own tail, and he didn’t even have one.

Draped in a paw-print blanket and stuffed full of toys, the sides of your food and water bowl lovingly chewed on. Always sinking those canines into whatever you could. Well, whatever you could that wasn’t out of the question. Shoes were a big no no, the sprinkler system too, Leon was sure to make that clear. Not like the water tasted any good from it, anyway.

With a quiet grunt (he really wasn’t getting any younger) he slowly kneeled down, denim brushing over varnished wood, peeking through the open gate of your pen. Despite having both feet on the ground - well, rather two knees - this still felt risky to him. Not like disarming a bomb, more like negotiating a hostage situation. Taking your hand in his own to lead you away from himself.

He kept his voice soft, quiet, as gentle as someone of Leon’s stature and nature could be. Like asking a wolf to hide its fangs, but he did his best.

“Hi there, darlin’.”

He always did his best with you.

Well, almost always.

No answer. Just the sound of your meek panting, sniffling between breaths. Tears making every inhale salty in your nose and on your tongue. You always preferred it sweeter. He hated being the reason your mouth felt off, watching you run your pink tongue along your cheeks as if trying to get the taste out. At least you were still awake. Amidst the darkness of your cage he could see you buried under a mountain of blankets, digging yourself in like a tick. Head burrowed in tight, he felt like even if he tried to gently coax you out by the body you’d keep shuffling along into the plush. He’d have to stop this from the root, twist and pop you out gently. So he tried that with words.

“You wanna come out of your little cave there?”

The brief whimper that passed your lips was enough of an answer for him, no words had to be spoken for him to catch on. He sighed.

“Yeah, I guess that’s fair enough. Daddy was a bit of a dick, huh?”

The slight movement under piles of pink and yellow told him your tail was wagging, and that made his heart hurt even more. It was bleeding through his shirt at this point, darlin’. Don’t do that to him, he’s too old to deal with this kind of pain. Might just kill him one of these days. Because even after he’d snapped at you, broken down the walls of trust you’d both spent months building, you were still reaching out to place a new brick down. To keep it all from crumbling. Leon rested his palms on the scuffed denim of his jeans. Sure, he’d done his schooling, graduated and all that, but now he found himself searching the corners of his mind for the right words. Like he was putting a puzzle together, trying to piece syllable to noun to verb until they clicked. But they didn’t exactly click. Then again, nothing ever did with Leon.

Except you.

“I didn’t.. Mean what I said. I just cut myself off at the worst time possible. I wasn’t thinking. Da-” he paused himself for a moment. Fuck, it’d become a bad habit. Was it still okay to call himself something like that in this kind of situation? “I’m not very good with words. M’ better with actions, y’know. Making things, helping people. I’m not exactly a wordsmith here, darlin’.”

There was a rustle. In the darkness of your pillows and blankets you found room to move. And he could tell it was closer to him from how the pile slouched in his direction, indicating the shifting of your body. You looked a bit like a molerat to be honest, an adorable one, or one of those prairie dogs, with the way your head makes an evident dent in the covers. He wouldn’t tell you that, though. Might take it the wrong way.

Out pops your fluffy ears, the silhouette of your tearful face. His stoic demeanour over the years shatters like that same photo frame, how the hallway’s dim lighting catches in your glossy eyes. It’s like looking at the moon in all her solemn sadness, amongst the stars, alone.

He can’t leave you like that.

“Hi, baby.” It’s a whisper. He’s too scared if he talks any louder you’ll huddle back up. He never wants to make you worried, or frightened, or anything really. He loves you just the way you are.

“Hi..”

Leon had no idea how much he’d missed that voice until he heard it for the first time after a long lonesome 20 minutes of silence. It’s an icepick to his frozen mind, chipping away those worries he had of you maybe never talking to him again. You were a sweet thing, but also sensitive. It was part of the reason he cared for you so deeply. You’d dug down under his skin, doggy-paddled through his blood stream and settled comfortably right on his heart.

“..Are you gonna, y’know,” Through the dark haze of shadows and soft rain against the windows, he could see you fiddling with your fingers. You’re nervous. Voice small and isolated, muffled through your soundproofing of comfy blankets and soft stuffies. It only made his head ache more. “Take me back?”

That one threw him off guard. He wasn’t expecting that kind of question, if anything he thought you’d ask if you were still in trouble. “Back? Back where?”

“..The shelter.”

He couldn’t see his own face, but he could just imagine how it twisted in confusion. “What? No, darlin’.”

“Oh..”

Yeah. Oh. So that’s what all of this had been about. It wasn’t just him yelling, it was the thought that you might get boxed up and shipped back. Kicked to the curb. Leon pictured it again, your shivering frame on the street, or back in that damp kennel surrounded by yelling dogs and strict meal times. “Why the hell would you think that?”

“Cause I broke something, and I was too rowdy.. I can’t sit still..”

The very reason he’d adopted you in the first place was to save you from that life, one of struggle and pain and sadness, yet you still feared it. Solely for, what, acting like a puppy? The very thing you were a hybrid of? If he weren’t so worried about you he’d be pissed at the world in all honesty.

“Baby, is that how you ended up there? Did someone..” He had no time to finish that question before you were nodding. You looked so ashamed, it ripped him in two. Someone had shoved his heart through a paper shredder and used the strips to line a hybrid play-pen floor.

Returned, handed off, a hand-me-down. That’s what you saw yourself as. Damaged goods. His voice cracked as he muttered softly, his face painted in nothing but sympathy. “Oh, puppy..”

Almost instantly a ball of fluff came barrelling out of the playpen right into Leon’s chest, a winded ‘oof!’ puffed from the man’s ribs. Could’ve cracked them with the force of your love. Softer than any cannon ball, fuzzier than any bullet. Yet you still managed to have him coughing out a chuckle, his nose nuzzling up into your hair. He couldn’t help but breathe out a sigh of relief. Because it was a sure sign that you didn’t hate him.

“There’s my girl.”

A meek whine bubbled up from your throat at the sheer joy of being back in your owner’s embrace, enveloped in his comforting smell. And Leon couldn’t resist resting his chin on your head as you sat crumpled in his lap. A scarred-over hand brushing through your hair, rubbing bruised thumbs over the soft velvet of your ears. Every touch, every loving gesture had your tail whipping against the floorboards. You truly were his good girl. Still sniffling, you tilted your head in that sweet puppy way to look at him properly, taking in the face of the man who you loved more than anything; yes, that included treats, walks, and toys. It was quite the accomplishment, an honour really. Leon should be proud of himself for that one.

“M’ sorry..”

There it was again, always saying sorry for things you didn’t mean to cause. Sometimes things you didn't even do. He shook his head at even the thought of that. Not scolding, but shushing. Like he didn’t want to hear you apologise for something that was hardly your fault. “Sweetheart, hey. It’s alright. I can always get a new picture frame, it’s no problem. What I can’t get is a new puppy. Wanna know why?”

Of course you did, that was a silly question. But he loved watching your ears flop as you nodded, made his pulse flutter like he had a butterfly in his veins, or a hummingbird. Humming away to the steady thrum picking up in pace. “Cause there’s only one you. And frankly, I’ve already called dibs, so I’m not givin’ you up for anything.”

That seemed to settle something in you, the pace of your tail picking up to its regular happy thump. Large hands encased either side of your head to brush over your fluffy ears, the velvety texture smooth under years of scarred tissue. And that fresh cut he had yet to bandage up. That could be done later, though. Right now he was more focused on plastering a hello-kitty bandaid over your heart. Leon was bad at this stuff, real bad. If there was a class for hybrid owner’s he’d have been expelled in seconds, set a new world record. Because even after having you with him for months he had to admit, he still had no idea what he was doing. He wanted to make that clear, no point in lying to you.

Gravelly voice turned smooth and soft, someone had put his whiskey rocks through a blender. He was a slushy now because of you. A messy, overpriced, alcoholic slushy.

“But I wanna try my hardest to make you feel loved here. Because believe me, you are. You and all your.. Energy, let’s say. You’re my fluff ball, aren’t ya?”

He doesn’t need words, words aren’t a strong suit for either of you. So he settled for the affectionate lick to the cheek you gave him, followed by your high pitched whine when you snuggled down into his lap with wiggling hips. Makes a huff of laughter rumble from his chest, not like the thunderous yelling you once heard. This was that of a car’s slow movement, of white noise to sleep.

Because at the end of the day you were each other’s peace.

Lips press to your hair in a gentle manner, and Leon found himself nuzzling his nose down against your own.

“Yeah you are. You’re daddy’s best girl.”

It’s a balm for the wounds on your soul, settling into his arms like you were made for them. Manufactured with his name printed across your heart where no-one could see it, you’d just had to find him. And now you had, and he had no intention of letting you go. If he could, he’d velcro you to his body.

Yeah, Leon swore he’d never let you go.

And he might be a bastard at times, but he made good on his promises.

The next week you were walking past the hall of photos, the one Leon commissioned of you and him out in the backyard was already hung. The outtakes of you sprinting off to chase a squirrel mid-shutter are his to keep tucked in his wallet, though. For the longer work days or boring lines at the DMV, all that shit.

But the formal one, the proper one, is right above the new frame you insisted on decorating for his graduation photo. Complete with smiley stickers and paint and hearts he’d carefully exacto-knifed around to give a clear view of his picture. You’d jumped around like a bouncy ball when he was cutting the excess sticky paper away, little yaps of ‘Is it done?! Is it finished?! Can I see it?!’ like you hadn’t been the one to seal it in glitter glue in the first place.

And honestly, he loved it. Like you were leaving your pawprints on his past, making a new path of swaying tails and giggling fits to lead him with a tugging leash into his brighter future. Like you were meeting an older version of him. One before he became a little more bruised, a little more cold. But you’d helped chip that down with your tugging paws and cute canines.

He was softer now. And he’d decided yes, that was a good thing. Meant he was more suited for you, more tender with you.

“C’mon, babygirl. Wanna go for a walk?” He already knows the answer. But watching you skitter on your feet to sprint towards him never gets old. Wagging tail and voice chirping.

“Can we get a pup cup on the way back? Please?”

Because if that freshly appointed rookie cop version of Leon could meet you, he’d be just as in love with you as he is right now.

“Aw I’m not made of stone now, am I sweetheart?”

And he’d agree, that new frame looks much better.

Consider buying me boba!

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ganondoodle · 1 month ago

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can you tell us more ab shargon’s kids?? :0

(sorry for the ... very rough sketch and probably unreadable text, struggeling alot with art atm ... still ..)

Thank you for asking!

Shargon has two young children, Jyothi and Tyura (forgive the weird names, made them when i was young and they are too ingrained now to change ..)

(Shargon is a single parent; demons do not have a gender/only one, all of them have the ability to bear children with an organ that sits right beneath the demonic heart, they also do not need a partner, they can just decide to have a child and trigger the process- while carrying they cannot shapeshift since an unborn demon cannot go along with that- genetics are usually not a problem since demons generally draw from a huge gene pool dating back eons; if they have a partner they will have to exchange some heartblood for the child to be a mix of both; growing a child is very energy draining and when carrying its not unusual for a demon to resort to consuming food, which they typically dont need to do; maintaining a certain energy level is very important since otherwise the risk of deformities in the child increases alot; a newborn demon (birth occurs through the mouth) has a few baby teeth with which to bite its parent/caretaker and feed on their demonic blood, it is not a requirement but many do since it accelerates their growth and can even out energy imbalances)

Jyothi, comparable to a 13 year old human, is a rather healthy young demon with alot of skill using elemental magic (wind in her case), which is why shes being taught by Lord Eadrya; Eadrya wants Shargon dead and regularly attacks him and although both of his children inherited his unnatural and hated/feared eye color, Jyothi stood up to Eadrya not knowing who they were at the time (and thus not their status and reputation) since Shargon lives extremely isolated- and even challenged them to a fight showing so much character and skill that Eadrya saw past her heritage and offered to teach her

The two get along well and she often sneaks away to find them bc she is so eager to learn and spend time with such a powerful and careless demon that everyone respects ... unlike her parent, who is weak, riddled with anxiety and hated by everyone, she still loves him of course, but the more time she spends away the more she adopts the way the other demons think and speak of Shargon

Shargon hates that she goes to them so much, mostly bc he is afraid they, and especially Eadrya, will hurt her or stop her from returning home, even with her special status bc of her talents, she still is his child after all; he does not and could not force her to not go though (a benefit is that she has been the only one besides Thor (Eadryas best friend) able to stop Eadrya from literally killing Shargon, as much as they are horrible to him, they do care alot for her)

(Jyothi has only started to grow her horns and her markings and colors will shift alot as she grows, as is typical for young demons)

Tyura, comparable to a 6 year old human, is much more like Shargon himself, very fearful and skitters away if theres anything they are unsure of, they are of the same elemental type as Shargon (lightning) but thus far has never used it beyond weak defensive shocks; they are also mute and have a deformed left hand likely bc Shargon was attacked and hunted for a long time while carrying them, thus not able to provide a stable energy level the other demons know of them but any attempt to get close to them has been prevented either by Shargon himself or .. Tyura fleeing and hiding (their body structure is also rather similar, the round shape is largely just fluffy feathers)

when Shargon is in the human world his children tend to stay with the only other demon he can trust (Ceryrion, an earth elemental and the chillest guy you can imagine), they dont like him much but love children and will happily go about their day while a little Tyura clings onto their back (though Tyura will absolutely dive back to Shargon whenever they notice his presence) both kids have been to the human world before but since it is very uncomfortable to be in as a demon he has only done so for them to meet Mori (Shargons human friend that lives .. illegally .. at the gates to the demon world) and avoided bringing them there otherwise

the time he is away has notably increased alot after accepting the deal with Zaphira (being her bodyguard .... 24 hours a day .. granted she did not know he had children, and also didnt know anything about demons but that she could use him to solve her problems)

here i go rambling again, i hope that gave you a bit of an idea of them ;O;

#ganondoodles answers #art #original art #ocs #original characters #oc lore #their design might change still .. but it was the best i could do currently #of course they also have a demon form .. both are funky lil noodles since shargon too is kinda like a noodle dragon #but who knows when i can draw that #sorry for all the oc stuff i just want to answer those few asks first ;O;

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muletia · 18 days ago

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𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 — [𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑] ⊹₊⟡⋆

[tfp] yandere!soundwave x human!reader

summary: when soundwave returns in a sour mood you start wondering why do you even care. why do you care about him.

cw: yandere themes, captivity, isolation, reader's pov, elements of stockholm syndrome

word count: 960

[part 2]

Today, there’s something more human about him.

You noticed it right away, the moment he took his first step into his quarters. The calculated lethargy typical of him was left outside this room, replaced with a rigidity in his stride. His steps were faster, more aggressive.

He also skipped your routine greeting. Didn’t point to the tablet, nor gesture at the books with his thin fingers. He simply turned his head in your direction and looked at you for a moment. Your mind instinctively jumped to the idea of him looking for a scapegoat—a piñata to channel his simmering frustration. But he didn’t. Your interaction ended with a smile displayed on his face. That was all. No aggression, no violence, no crushing or death. He approached the keyboard and began working.

Under normal circumstances, he typed quickly yet lightly, pausing now and then to glance at you for updates on the movie you were watching, even if only ten minutes had passed since the last check-in. But something must have been different this time, because an hour passed. Then two, then three, and the giant remained laser-focused on the flickering screen, inputting data you couldn’t comprehend.

You’re reminded of the early days of your existence in these new conditions, when your only entertainment was watching him work. Back then, he wasn’t so protective, nor did he pay you much attention. He was a nightmare—a cold-blooded, emotionless beast that stripped you of your life and replaced it with a fight for survival.

But that was the past. Painful beginnings you tried not to dwell on. You wanted to focus on the present because you knew something was up. Something must have happened beyond your small universe that shook someone as stoic and composed as him. You knew your curiosity — and especially your concern — should end there. You should revel in his downfall, take satisfaction in the misfortune that befell him. It was the only possible form of revenge, the only way to feel a fleeting sense of gratification.

But you couldn’t. Because you saw humanity in his behavior. You saw yourself. You remembered all the times you’d been unsettled—when your steps quickened, when you reduced human contact, when your fingers struck the keyboard harder than usual. Even without context, you understood how he felt. It was terrifying, humanizing your captor, a faceless alien — a creature displaying the most human of traits. Yet, you couldn’t deny it to him, just as you couldn’t deny it to yourself. You were still human; you still felt, still tried to empathize, even if the subject was a gigantic, enigmatic robot. That intrinsic part of you, deeply encoded in your genetic makeup, was reaping its harvest. You just had to decide whether it was a good or bad one.

"Hey," you attempt. Your voice comes out uncertain, betraying your internal conflict.

The titan turns his head toward you, startlingly fast—too fast for your liking. His sudden attention strips away the last remnants of your courage. As he looks at you, waiting, expecting you to continue, you suddenly feel microscopic, recalling the dynamic between the two of you. You wonder whether you should drop the subject, let it go, and enjoy the rare day when he wasn’t bothering you. Pretend you came home from work and were watching a comfort movie. But as he stops typing and gives you his full attention, you realize you’re a coward. Because deep down, you do want to help him, even if it’s just with one question. But you’re held back by lingering fears, the remnants of a survival instinct that no longer belongs to you.

He tilts his head and leans closer to you—a wake-up call you needed. Was your lack of follow-up really that concerning to him?

"Is everything okay?" you finally ask, looking straight into the center of his "face."

He freezes, as if completely unprepared for such a question. Your concern is uncharted territory for both him and you, so his reaction doesn’t surprise you. It only serves to humanize him further, to draw you in with his awkwardness. And you willingly step closer to the trap.

A thumbs-up emoji flashes on the screen, breaking the awkwardness.

You smile faintly; his use of human emojis has always fascinated you. And your giant seems to read your mind, sending you an adorable :3 moments later.

You feel as though a weight has been lifted from your chest, taking the tension with it. You don’t expect him to always be in a good mood, even though, for a victim, such conditions are favorable for living. But seeing him like this makes you feel better. Lighter.

He extends an open hand toward you, placing it on the desk. An invitation you cautiously accept. The titan gently wraps his fingers around you and pulls you closer to his chest, where you’re forced to press your whole body against him. Another novelty, another uncharted territory.

He’s unbelievably warm, a stark contrast to the chilliness of the room. The necessity of embracing his strangely soothing warmth shifts into a choice. Because whether you want to admit it or not, he’s offering you comfort.

Your field of vision is limited, but you see him return to his workstation. Two tendrils extend, typing on his behalf, while his head remains focused on you. One of his fingers begins to stroke your back, tracing soft circles, studying your anatomy. He lingers over your shoulder blades, subtly outlining their shape. It’s a gentle curiosity you can’t deny him because you feel the same way. You want to know more — about his species, why he’s here on Earth. But above all, you want to know about him.

"Who are you?" you finally ask, uncertain if you’ll receive an answer.

#transformers x reader #yandere!soundwave x reader #yandere!soundwave

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scientia-rex · 2 years ago

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Hysteria isn't a fucking thing

ok fun fact: I'm rapidly becoming a cult favorite doctor among our local privileged elderly white ladies, which I have mixed feelings about, but the #1 reason is that I just don't leap to "anxiety" as an explanation for symptoms unless the patient tells me "I am anxious, and then I feel these symptoms, and when I am not anxious, I don't feel these symptoms."

The sheer number of women I've seen who've been told for years to decades that the only thing wrong with them is anxiety is fucking staggering, in this Year Of Our Lord 2023, and I just keep digging. We checked a basic lab panel, sure. CBC. No anemia. CMP. Kidneys are fine. (Electrolytes are basically always going to be fine if someone is well enough to walk into my office under their own power to talk to me. Exception is mild chronic hyponatremia.) And we check thyroid. TSH and free T4. We check blood sugar. A1c, if the fasting is a little weird. Fasting insulin, if I'm still suspicious. We check cortisol. Inflammatory markers--ESR and CRP.

And eventually, if the symptoms support it, or right away, depending on my level of suspicion, we check rheumatological labs for abnormal autoimmune function. Anti-nuclear antibody. Rheumatoid factor. There's at least a dozen you can check, and which ones you should check is always a matter of debate and also of expertise that I 100% lack. We are out in the sticks. There are no "local" rheumatologists for me to send people to.

But a couple of weeks ago I found a woman--she has bipolar disorder and has been told for decades that's all that's wrong with her--who has an anti-centromere antibody titer that's fucking through the roof. I found an anxious 19-year-old with an ANA of 1:1380. And yesterday I found out why a sweet elderly woman I've seen for a year or two now started feeling crappy months ago: her rheumatoid factor is over 90.

Rheumatological disorders are always difficult. Our understanding of them varies from "pretty good, actually, and here are useful treatments" to "Well I Guess That Exists." Labs aren't always a slam-dunk and even labs plus symptoms can give you misleading impressions. Your immune system can decide that virtually any short chunk of protein is an enemy, and the problem with that is that your body is made up of many, many, many short chunks of proteins, so the odds that you'll develop some kind of antibody against yourself just keeps going up over your lifetime. Immune disorders tend to travel in packs; there's a clear genetic element to it, so the more first-degree relatives (parent, sibling, child) you have with any kind of autoimmune disorder (including Type 1 diabetes), the higher your risk of any kind of autoimmune disorder is, and if you already have one autoimmune disorder, you're at higher risk for developing another one.

But I think it's precisely because they're difficult that a lot of mainstream primary care prefers to pretend they don't exist, rather than try to sift through the utter fucking mess that is Mixed Connective Tissue Disorders, a title that has fallen out of favor since I learned it in my third year of med school. And women are at higher risk for autoimmune disorders than men. And older women are at higher risk than younger women.

So if I, as a family doc, just keep digging, just keep poking at the tangled knot of symptoms, there's a decent chance I will uncover something interesting. Hopefully something treatable. Sometimes we have nothing to treat with, and I just get to offer someone more understanding of their disorder, which feels pretty paltry but is better than the casual dismissal of "You're just anxious."

Never, ever, ever take anxiety as a diagnosis for a symptom other than anxiety. Not even as a rule-out. Keep those symptoms as an open question mark on the patient. Don't say "anxiety" just so you can close the door. And damn sure don't do it to women.

I'm actively working on learning more so I can be more helpful, in our Rheum-less community, so if you have good lectures or books, please drop me a lead.

#the attending dr. kristophine

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sonic-4-episode-ii · 27 days ago

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heres a "quick" list of some hcs regarding physical disabilities, mental illnesses & other stuff that can impair function or is "odd" physically but i dont know the proper term for

might update this every once in a while but for now thats it

spoiler alert: its all chronic pain!

Sonic

Fibromyalgia, big-time. Uses massively thick socks to stop his feet from hurting too much while running.

DID, which starting developing when he was like....4. now that he's (mostly) gotten over his "just push everything down" era, inter-system communications are pretty strong, and he's friends w/ a lot of his headmates

doesnt have the best eyesight (in fact its p awful) but hes convinced he can still see well enough so he refuses to wear his glasses. WILL NOT wear contacts

has NPD

autistic. contrary to popular believe, he doesnt have ADHD

schizophrenia. idk which type or whatever. hes got the hallucinations.

has auditory and visual (???) synthesia which caused him to. make the sonic CD us sountrack. yeah

Tails

HoH, but doesn't like using hearing aids. A bad habit inspired by Sonic's refusal to wear his own glasses

OCD, huge-time. his paranoia can get so bad sometimes that he doesn't even trust Sonic. doing much better in that regard nowadays, though.

tic disorder, hits themself or has their neck turn the other way violently (hurts!!!!!!)

so obviously autistic they get a little embarrassed abt it sometimes

c-ptsd haver

Knuckles

Undiagnosed chronic pain, has no idea what's causing it. Fully believed it was emerald stealing karma for YEARS.

gets weird pinched nerves alot because of some of his old scars being close to nerve endings. ow

has bad eyesight but genuinely didnt realize for years

has a sort of? processing disorder thing? i dont actually know what it is. when you try to talk but actual gibberish comes out n you cant think. someone else had the same hc but i forgot what they called it. but he has that

does actually have a lot of trauma due to being alone for most of his life and being raised by nothing but a rock and maaaaybe some birds. crazy ik

Amy

Horrible, awful eyesight. worst perscription out of ALL of her friends

Hypermobile joints, which is part of why she has such a horrible posture (along w her dysphoria).

abandonment issues due to. yk. being abandoned by her parents, which ends up leading into her getting unhealthily attached to anyone who gives her the time of day (and she arbitrarily decides is totally the one for her)

Shadow

PTSD (canon)

mobility issues (canon)

NPD + maybe borderline...?

Rouge

pretty much 100% deaf, uses hearing aids.

has some kinda smt going on because of the way she grew up but fuck if anyone knows what it actually is.

Blaze

Had anorexia for years, which has caused a lot of muscle weakness. Now that she's in recovering, things are a lot better, but she still uses a cane most of the time.

has depression, anxiety and self-worth issues due to being bullied as a child. not just for her flame powers

double anxiety bc of people trying to take her shit

Silver

similar to Blaze, weak thanks to a really bad diet as a kid.

due to genetic mutations caused by radiation, contamination of drinking water & food, and extreme changes in the environment, silver has four arms

also a really weird immune system that flip-flops from being disturbingly strong to scarily weak (can eat actual trash somehow but a cold puts him out of the running for weeks)

anxiety + separation issues. tries to be stoic abt it tho

has dyscalculia And dyslexia, struggles with understanding english especially

Vanilla

chronic exhaustion + fibromyalgia from a young age. sort of worried cream will end up having it too

Cream

weak immune system due to lots of childhood illness. might not be able to be vaxxed bc of it

gets ear infections really easily, made significantly worse w all the dirt she kicks up from flying with her ears

unspecified panic disorder due to trauma. tries to stay brave

Charmy / charmie / charmee

constantly low blood sugar due to weird bee stuff + inconsistent diet as a kid

he thinks hes funny :/

might have autism and/or adhd

Espio

undiagnosed mobility issues. can climb fine, but has trouble walking and cant run. uses a cane

anxiety he refuses to talk abt to anyone except the other chaotix and, very rarely, silper

Vector

self-inflicted hearing loss. went to too many concerts

developed anxiety after taking care of charmy and espio for so long. thanks kids

Sticks

OCD. tends to unintentionally encourage tails's delusions. currently getting experimental therapy thats working rlly well

somehow has almost every possible vitamin deficiency

Eggman

tics similar to sonic and tails's

OSDD

NPD

Neo Metal Sonic

transfeminine metal sonic from the main au

chronic headaches after episode metal

joints tend to seize up when chilly for too long. although shes immune to water, its worse when shes cold

tics due to system errors / bugs she and tails cant fix. she doesnt actually mind them since it makes her feel more connected to her bros :]

memory problems also after episode metal

due to her memory problems she has to memorize stuff by repeatedly being given info and it takes way longer for her to learn things compared to other computers so i think she has a learning disability? bc of that?

has weird backwards sensory issues. lack of harsh lighting or metallic noises unsettles and can overwhelm her

might have NPD

has delusions. getting better at recognizing them, which helps her help tails more

Hyper Metal Sonic

second, transmasculine metal sonic from a spinoff au

self-induced chronic pain (wtf bro)

joints also seize up when cold

Sage

doesnt feel much physically, which leads to her getting bad injuries she barely recognizes for ages

autism beast

Scourge

popcorn lung due to smoking several packs of cigarettes daily so his voice sounds more gruff

everything sonic has also

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walpu · 9 months ago

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while I'm waiting for my second flight this day here's some infodump about my oc, one day I'll write some reader insert based on them god bless

Their name is Andreas but they go as Andy or Rea, rarely using their full name.

He/they

They're a Stellaron hunter with a personal vendetta again the IPC and the future Elio promised them is the one where they watch the IPC crumbles by their hands

looks

drawn by wonderful @/kenwnyan ❤️

picrew 1 picrew 2 picrew 3

style

they haven't decided yet if he wants to look like a gothic young lord or like a gangster in leather so he just mixes it up

music themes

path&type

quantum destruction

lore details

He's from an ocean world, the water is everywhere but it's impossible to drink it due to the salt. The climate change also made the weather unusually hot

People on their planet can manipulate their blood flow to a certain degree

Rea's abilities were always extraordinary compared to his kind but after genetic modifications they became truly unique. Also deadly :)

They're a living voodoo doll, as long as they have at least a drop of someone's blood, they can transfer their wounds (even tge fatal ones) to this person (they can also transfer this person's wounds to themselves but they rarely do it)

Genetic modifications weren't consensual btw. They were done by a group of ipc researchers and then original goal of the project was harmless. But then the lead researcher was changed to Dottore wannabe and the gory nightmare began

The IPC didn't know about it and never checked on the project much. When Rea eventually killed everyone and run away, the truth came up, and the IPC realized how badly they've fucked up. In order to save some face, they've severely downplayed the issue, put all the blame on the research team and publicly apologized for allowing this tragedy to happen

Oh and they've announced Rea dead too. So now catching them is their priority since they're trying so hard to erase their connection to the IPC

Like it's a huuuuge secret that they are directly connected to the ipc

Andy himself became an intergalactic terrorist with only one goal: to creat as many troubles for the ipc as possible. In fact, the first time he met Aven (the first time they remember at least), he fucked over his deal

The only thing keeping them going was hatred, to the point where they've mindset was practically "as long as I can keep destroying things I hate, I'm alive. As long as I'm able to feel hatred, I exist".

At one point Nanook has turned their gaze on them. Later, when they've joined the Stellaron hunters, Elio reveals to them that their destiny was to became an emanator of destruction. They were lowkey upset they ended up settling for the Stellaron hunters instead lol

They have very shitty memory. Part of this is a trauma response but there's also the fact that they constantly shoot themselves in the head to transfer the injury to their opponent. They regenerate immediately (an important note, they would only regenerate if their voodoo doll mode is activated) but their brain still gets damaged to a degree.

personality

They're immature in a lot of ways. While certainly smart and creative, they're impatient, whiny, a bit of an airhead. They appear bubbly and playful at the first sight, can easily hide their unstable physiological state. May appear nihilistic since they trust Elio so blindly.

Lowkey very attached to the Stellaron hunters but they don't like to admit it. A type of person who would be mistyped as ENTP due to their vibes.

VERY THEATRICAL also prone to escapism.

#hsr #no beta at all im writing this while im walking circles around the airport #hsr oc #Andreas

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smorksthings · 1 month ago

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Something to Crow About

Rookanis — Gabriel de Riva & Lucanis Dellamorte

Headcanons for my Crow Rook and Lucanis

The first time Gabriel and Lucanis met was not in the Ossuary, rather glances and brief moments of existing-in-the-same-room. The first time they ever exchanged looks was when Gabriel first arrived at the Cantori Diamond, it's hard to not stare at the twelve year old covered in blood. But there were never any exchanges of words — this didn't stop Gabriel from developing a school yard crush on Lucanis however.

Ultimately, what truly draws Gabriel to Lucanis is the familiarity in their stories. Gabriel had always had a far away attraction to Lucanis, it's hard to imagine why not, but it was always more in the way you'd think of a celebrity, to look at but not to have. But when he met Lucanis in the Ossuary, being used and experimented on by a Tevinter Venatori mage with the need to claw your way out. This didn't turn Gabriel away, only served to make Lucanis more human.

I like the idea that Gabriel and Lucanis enjoy playing the piano and violin together — Lucanis on the piano and Gabriel on the violin. Lucanis is very much the type of man who does not like the idea of cooking with someone else in the kitchen, unless they're only there to sit pretty at the dining table, NOT on the counter. So instead they make music together to do something together that isn't just murder.

Both of them know how to speak Antivan [Spanish/Italian], so they both refer to each other in terms of endearment in the language. Lucanis most often calls Gabriel "tresoro", meaning treasure, while Gabriel calls Lucanis "mio vida", my life, on more special occasions. They both call each other "amore mio" and other terms of endearment an equal amount.

Lucanis spends a lot of time worrying about Gabriel's weight. He's 5'1" | 154 cm and around 100 to 110 pounds | 45-49kg. He's alarmingly light weight to Lucanis and he often tries to feed him a lot of food to keep him from losing what little weight he already has and bulk him up. Unfortunately, Gabriel's metabolism and rather small appetite — and maybe a handful of elf genetics, mean that he has a hard time gaining weight even if he wanted to.

One of the biggest fights between the couple has to arguably be the moment where Lucanis admits to wanting a family and Gabriel's less than excited response to it, rapidly breaking down into a fight. Lucanis' want for a family spawns mostly from his sense of responsibility towards his family and being one of the only members left to the Dellamorte family. But Gabriel is not exactly fond of the idea — he knows he's childish most of the time and he's not the most comfortable with the idea of the need to raise a child when he himself is still childish. He also isn't into the idea of being a seahorse dad. Ultimately, they decide on no kids.

At some point, they get married, or more accurately, eloped. At best they invite Neve or Emmrich or even Davrin to be the witness if not a disposable Crow. I don't think they particularly enjoy the idea of making this sort of thing public. They're already Crows, being in the shadows is their life. For the sake of their friends, they do have a small reception, only constituting the members of the Veilguard, Teia, Viago, Caterina and a few other Crows of importance.

At first, Lucanis was not the most fond of the idea of Spite being an active part of their relationship. But things eventually changed. Realizing how Spite very much cared for Gabriel and how they'd all very much live with each other for the rest of their lives, he decided it may not be worth it to just keep Spite from Gabriel in any real capacity. Plus, no longer having the spirit trying to convince him of doing nasty things to Gabriel was rather reliving.

#dragon age #dragon age veilguard #datv #dav #da4 #rookanis #rook x lucanis #rook: cileo #crow rook #dav spoilers #da4 spoilers #dragon age the veilguard #veilguard spoilers

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avionvadion · 2 months ago

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My brain decided it wanted to sketch something depressing, so here ya go! Sorry not sorry, lol. Eleanora's final death many years later and Malleus making an orchard/flowery tomb within the castle in his grief for his deceased wife.

From right to left, you got Aiden and Valerie, Valerie's presently unnamed kiddo, (She would one hundred percent be the first one to get married. Cassius is still very confused as to how he ended up at the altar but he isn't complaining, lol, unlike his poor dad who is panic attacking. R.I.P Sebek, his poor simping heart can't handle the fact his son is marrying a Draconia.) Melody, Ellis, and two unnamed Malleora twins. One has round ears like Ellis while the other has pointed.

I'm convinced at this point that dragon blood is just inherently and ridiculously strong and overpowers most other non-dragon genetics. Dragons are canonically rare, and we know from Raverne's name that he's most likely some type of bird fae (Crowley, I swear to gods if it's you there will be DEATH) so it's likely previous Draconias have married non-dragon fae, but their children are always dragons. Also, Malleus is his mother's spitting image, like damn.

Dragon genetics are strong.

But, also, I'm playing with the idea that it also determines how strong one's magic is. Aiden has the brown hair, so his magic isn't as powerful as Valerie, Melody, or one of the unnamed twin sisters'. However, his magic is stronger than the other unnamed twin sister and Ellis' as the unnamed twin sister has round ears and Ellis has neither horns nor pointed ears.

Uh, magic ranking wise:

Valerie

Melody

Unnamed Sister #1

Aiden

Unnamed Sister #2

Ellis

Sibling age order though: Aiden and Valerie, Ellis, Melody, Unnamed Twin Sisters.

#twisted wonderland #twst #malleus draconia #eleanora quince #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #fankids #malleus draconia x oc #angst #once upon a dream #TO MAKE THS EVEN DARKER AND MORE DEPRESSING #Malleus be dead too. Death from grief.#This be the moment the kiddos find him and that's why you can't see their faces. except the babble's. who doesn't understand what's going o #just that everyone is sad #yandere dragon don't last long without the object of their obsession/affection #maleficia hung in there for malleus but like shortly after valerie and aiden are born... probably decided she was able to finally rest

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wazzappp · 4 months ago

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@rokhal okay so you see heres the problem. You asked too many good questions so I opened a google doc to answer them and then things just got going and then I ended up with an entire summary of the story I have so far.

ALSO thank you @moosemonstrous for helping me puzzle through my fugnking ramblings

Also it is IMPORTANT that you know I had this song on repeat the entire time I was plotting my nefarious schemes

OKAY SO. I’m thinking Robbie is some sort of specialized stealth unit. He was originally designed for high level infiltration but was repurposed by the human resistance in the future. He has skin with a metal endoskeleton just like the usual terminators but he ALSO has those nanobots that allow him to heal at the same pace as a normal human. They also would help with repairing any damage to internal systems like wiring. They could also be what repurposes food to grow his metal endoskeleton. I’m debating on whether he can manually speed that up for an accelerated healing process because that would require a level of control over his machinery that I’m not sure it would make sense for him to have right after figuring out he’s a machine. Maybe with some practice he could do it. OHHHHH OR IF HES IN SOME SORT OF ‘EMERGENCY DEFENSE’ MODE IT ACCELERATES AUTOMATICALLY THAT COULD BE FUN!!!

Also I really like the idea of him being able to heal with those nanobots but like. SPECIFICALLY for Gabe. They’re programmed to create synthetic flesh and skin but only for certain genomes. His and Gabes are similar enough that they can help repair tissue if he’s injured. Like being a blood donor for matching blood types.

STORY WISE HERE’S WHAT IM THINKING: Eli still exists in this universe and he’s still a massive shithead. Still pushes Mama Reyes down a flight of stairs while pregnant with Gabe (their soon to be first child), still a serial killer and still involved with the mob. But shortly after Gabe is born, Eli is caught and sentenced to prison for life. The mob figures he told his brother’s family so that makes them a liability. They kill Alberto and Julianna, but leave Gabe alone in his crib. This happens when he’s about 6 months old.

While this is happening, Robbie is time traveled into the back yard of their house. He goes inside and puts on whatever clothes he can find. When police show up to check after getting a noise complaint from the neighbors, they find what looks to be a 5 year old boy soothing a crying baby and a massive burned hole in the backyard they think is just some sort of already detonated explosive. Everyone just assumes this kid is his brother and they try to get him out of the house without letting him see his dead ‘parents’. He doesn't talk much but does answer that his name is Robbie when asked.

Things get REALLY weird when they go to the police station and find… absolutely nothing about him. No birth certificate, no social security number, no history of schooling, not even their notoriously nosy neighbors know anything about him. The Reyes’s had not marked down a dependent on their tax forms until Gabe. Even when they look at the possibility of him being an undocumented immigrant; NOTHING. Half the guys think he’s an illegal alien that slipped through the cracks of.. EVERY country and the other half think he’s an ACTUAL alien For all intents and purposes the kid in front of them does not exist. Eli isn’t much help when asked, he just assumes ‘that bitch of his turned him against me didn’t even tell me that I had a nephew already here god DAMN her’.

They quickly start questioning whether they're actually brothers, but genetic tests determine that they are. That, and the absolute INSISTENCE of the boy that ‘This is my brother. I HAVE to keep him safe’.

So they do what just about anyone might do. Decide this weird magically appearing child is someone else’s problem, and put them into foster care. From there the story stays about the same for a while. They know Eli exists but they honestly couldn't give less of a shit about him. That guy is never getting out on parole lmao. Robbie catches up with social development and for the most part fits in pretty good (he never gets sick. Like ever. Never gets so injured he has to go to the doctor for emergencies. Just regular checkups, which he passes through with a few raised eyebrows but still good). He’s still a GENIUS with cars and works at Canelos. He understands them in a way that usually takes years of experience way beyond what Robbie has. Things are going.. Not GREAT but they’re okay. And then AMADEUS FUCKIGN SHOWS UP.

Skynet of the future has sent back a Terminator to kill Gabe. No one is really sure WHY but they figure if skynet is going to such lengths to kill this kid then he must be worth protecting. So the human resistance sends back Amadeus to find Gabe and keep him safe from this Terminator.

He steals some clothes, a gun and a car(not like hes really planning on settling down here anyway who cares about a few broken laws) shows up at the Reyes residence, meets Gabe.. and basically all his plans blow up. This is absolutely NOT the type of person he was expecting and he sure as shit doesn't want to go anywhere with this random stranger. So naturally he kidnaps Gabe and starts getting the fuck out of the city (while also starting work on an electromagnetic field reader that he thinks can help detect terminators).

Robbie shows up back home after grocery shopping and uhhhhh Gabes NOT THERE theres BROKEN SHIT IN HIS HOUSE and the neighbors keep talking about a STOLEN CAR and some maniac who stole from a GUN SHOP. So he does the only reasonable thing he can think of, checks Life 360 hoping that Gabe still has his phone on him (he does) gets into his car and starts hunting them down. Between his crazy driving skills and freakish persistence, Amadeus can only conclude that Robbie is the terminator sent to kill Gabe.

When Robbie finally heads them off at an abandoned warehouse Amadeus tries to pull Gabe along with him and run away. But when Robbie steps out of his car, Gabe recognizes him and starts trying to get there. Amadeus is panicked, pointing his gun at Robbie to try and keep him away and, at this point, VERY confused. Because he’s pulled out his EMF reader and is getting some absolutely WACK readings off Robbie but hes also very much so being deterred by the gun (terminators couldnt gibe two shits about guns thlse metal fuckheads eat bullets for breakfast). The readings shortly get even more wack when the ACTUAL Terminator sent to kill Gabe shows up. Amadeus fires a couple of shots into the Terminator to confirm what he already knew (subsequently freaking both Robbie and Gabe out sufficiently enough to confirm that at least Amadeus isn’t entirely crazy). They pile into the Reyes-mobile and peel off shortly before the terminator gets into Amadeus’ abandoned stolen car and starts going after them.

Robbie is doing his best to ask what the FUCK is actually going on while getting away but Amadeus is still double checking his EMF readings because Robbie is DEFINETLY not human but also clearly isn’t here to kill Gabe. Quickly puts two and two together that for SOME reason SOMEhow Robbie is here to PROTECT Gabe from this other Terminator. Amadeus is. A little distracted because of this and keeps asking Robbie about his ‘Programming’ (sort of a “WOW your programming must be good you REALLY think he’s your brother and thats WHY you have to protect him!” “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT WHO WAS THAT GUY HOW DID HE KEEP WALKING AFTER YOU SHOT HIM” “It was a terminator keep up. Hey did you even TRY to call the police or did you just start coming after me because you knew it would be faster? Cause damnnnnn again. PROGRAMMING!”)

After finally losing the terminator that’s been on their tail, they find the police are not too happy about their reckless driving, arrest them and take them to the station to keep in a holding cell. While Robbie is in said holding cell with Amadeus (Gabe is presently being asked questions) there’s a police officer who recognizes him as that weird little kid who just appeared out of nowhere.

“Yeah we had absolutely NOTHING on you. It was like you hadn't existed until the day we found you!” So Robbie has to sit and listen to this while Amadeus is just confirming in his head what he already figured out. Being stuck in that cell trying to stay in denial with the guy whose favorite thing to say in the world is ‘I Told You So’ is not great. (un)Fortunately this is when the actual terminator shows up again.

This time, being faced with both the Terminator AND police trying to stop him from leaving, Robbies defense systems activate. He goes absolutely HAM on everyone in his way. He’s extremely default Terminator-like (Emotionless, distant, empty, quiet) in this state because all of his infiltration protocols have been halted. He even manages to fight off the other terminator decently well, but not before getting blasted in the arm with a shotgun shell. It goes deep enough that his metal endoskeleton is revealed. I also had this idea of like. His arm getting caught in something and he just stares at whoever trapped it there. Looks them dead in the eyes as he degloves his entire hand then beats the shit out of whoever got in his way with his metal fist. He stays in this state until they steal ANOTHER car, and he finally snaps out of it. And sees his hands covered in blood. And glimmers of his metal skeleton. And his brother looking at him in fear.

AND THATS WHAT IVE GOT RN I CAN'T WRITE LIKE YALL CAN I DON'T HAVE THE PATIENCE FOR IT I HAVE TO GET ALL OF THIS OUT LIKE RIGHT NOW SO YEAH UHHHHHHH ENJOY

#ghost rider terminator au #BEHOLD. MY BARELY FILTERED BRAIN FLOOD OF NONSENSE #terminator!robbie #ghost rider #robbie reyes #gabe reyes #amadeus cho

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yandere-paramour · 2 months ago

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When Darling's parents reveal that Darling used to be... That kid who landed themselves in hospital for every sport/childhood hijink/general mayhem and somehow lives to well adjusted adulthood, apparently this shit is hereditary. I'm expecting bubblewrap at this point. Haha

Vivien was the EXACT same kid. His foster parents could send him outside to get the mail and he would come back covered in mud and blood having decided to mud wrestle a possum on the way there. And he just looks at you with his big eyes and his sweet little face all confused when you say he has to go to the hospital for a rabies shot (his foster parents don't know that possums don't get rabies so Vivien won that day but trust me, he will have more rabies shots in the future). He had multiple broken arms and wrists and collarbones, and his knees and elbows were constantly skinned and bloody. Hearing this from Darling's parents, he kinda gets excited and explains how he was the same way. It's cute, you both were the same kind of kid, you guys are meant to be. And your precious children will grow up to be the same type of little menace.

Atalanta is horrified. She was very regal and proper even as a child. Whenever she went outside to play in the garden, she would slide and swing and come back in completely clean and perfect. She rarely got dirty or messy and never committed any mayhem. Hearing this about you is frightening. You're saying that you... got dirty and got hurt? What the hell were you doing out there? And this is... genetic? Atalanta pales in fear for the future Montclair heir. Your child will shake the foundation of the Montclair name and she is terrified. She would prefer if you didn't go out for a few days; she needs to process this.

Noelle listens intently. She wants to hear everything, every story, every tale of havoc. She is quiet as you are driven home and she ushers you back in the apartment. She hugs you tightly. Noelle feels great now. CLEARLY, you are a danger to yourself. Noelle is absolutely right to keep you safely inside the apartment. She needs to protect you from the world, from anything that could hurt you. She's not letting you out for a few weeks, hope you enjoyed that dinner with your parents because Noelle is in overprotective mode now. Expect to be so coddled for the next month, Noelle needs to protect you.

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yugenwrites · 1 year ago

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∗ —— Adrian “Alucard” Tepes x D.

∗ —— Part one, part two, part three, part four ( coming soon ).

∗ —— NOTES: This story is inspired by some of the fanart that is done by tender miasma / suzannart! The worlds of Castlevania and Vampire Hunter D are connected to one and another.

“Belmont said that you have fought with his ancestors. How old are you D and now many of his ancestors have you worked alongside with?” Sypha asked the dhampyre but the man did not answer, only sighing in response. He didn't feel like striking up any type of conversation, he just wanted to get away from the three of them since they did nothing but bicker.

“He's very old,” the left hand spoke like D had done a couple of minutes ago, he had dug his nails into the face of the parasite but this time with an irritated scowl.

“Enough of your foolish antics.” D was bothered by not only his companion but the three fools behind him. “Once we are finally free from this area, I will be parting from the three of you. I did wish that it was four.” Of course he was referring to the fourth person as his hand.

“If I could leave you, I would but you would be absolutely miserable without me,” the hand exclaimed at the dhampyre who curled his fingers downward and into his palm, nails digging into the flesh for the third time. “That hurts you bastard!”

“We all need to stay together. The faster we can get to Dracula's castle the quicker we will be able to put an end to this.” Sypha took a couple of steps forward in a quick motion, now walking beside D who didn't bother to look at her.

“I work alone and the people of Wallachia will need someone to look after them before they get devoured by night creatures.”

“I'm sure that they would have some dislike towards you as well, you may be half of a human but I am sure as long as you have vampire blood or genetics, you will be seen as a monster nonetheless,” Alucard stated as D began to turn away from the trio.

“Anyone can be considered a monster whether they are human, vampyre, or a demon. Even if I am a vampyre hunter, I am aware of the many things that a mere man or even a child is capable of doing. No one in this world is truly innocent but it is enough to try to change such a thing and help those who are in need of it.”

“And what if they aren't willing to take some of your generosity? Would you still provide aid to those even when they push you away?”

“I cannot force anyone and shall not do it. Not everyone is willing to accept aid and some will look down upon it.” Alucard couldn't help but to think back. To think back how a year ago was when his mother was burned down to ashes because of her so-called witchery when the only thing she wanted to do was help those who needed it. “I'm sure that you three alone would be able to make it to the castle by yourselves without my aid. I will make sure that the creatures of the night do not come in between you or your travels.”

“So . . . You are helping us basically?” Trevor questioned.

“In a sense, yes, but it's more for the people and not for your benefit.” D had paused in his tracks and turned his head to look at Alucard, eyes narrowed and nothing but a frown worn upon his face. “You. Be wise of the choices that you decide to make.” With those words, D had continued to walk away from the trio and Alucard found himself averting his gaze.

Alucard knew that the man didn't trust him, he thought that he was going to end up like his father and become full of rage to the point where even he was going to cause destruction to Wallachia and its people. The blonde wasn't a fool, he was able to control his emotions despite being saddened and upset about his mother's death. As much as it was unfortunate, it was something that was bound to happen one day.

The only one that seemed to really believe that he had good intentions was Sypha and the other speakers who believed in the story of the sleeping soldier despite it seeming more dramatic than what it needed to be. Lost in his thoughts, he had walked away to clear his head in a secluded area while Trevor and Sypha went to meet up with her people. He would join them a little bit down the line but for now he needed some time to himself even if he had spent a whole year sleeping in a coffin. Some things needed to be planned out and organized and he wanted to do such in silence.

The night was rather cold, the fear that the people had worn on their faces was nothing but clear. D held his suspicions of Alucard. Even if he had swore that he was going to kill his father before he creates any more damage, he doesn't know what he may do afterwards or even beforehand. “Maybe you were a little too rude to him. He's just a kid,” his left hand commented despite his own rudeness to the dhampyre earlier.

“He is no child, he is a full adult. I'm sure that he is able to handle the things that will be thrown at him with the decision he has chosen to make.” Even the parasite of a hand could think that the dhampyre was rather cold towards others at times, such a thought was rare considering his own personality.

“Don't give me that shit, you could have been a little bit nicer to him and you know it.” After all, Alucard had just lost his mother a year ago and to be able to stop the upbringing madness being caused and the possible end of the existence of humans, the blonde would have to kill his own father. A soft huff escaped D’s lips, maybe he could have but he wasn't going to during all of this. There was business that needed to be taken care of.

“This is no time for mourning and treating him with sympathy. The fate of the world lies within his hands.” His eyes narrowed underneath the tip of the hat that he wore so low and his lips were curled downward into a frown.

Only a couple of hours had passed until the sun slowly began to shine within the sky, the people who were hiding in their homes soon coming out to see that they were alive. D made sure that the night creatures didn't lay a single hand on a civilian or even glanced in their direction. Not many had shown up, maybe at least seven. Most of them were killed in the horde from earlier on when night took its course. The vampire hunter walked around and tended to people's needs even though they were skeptical of him due to his vampirism.

“Ye could have fuckin' stopped this!” There was one man who pointed at the black haired hunter, poking him directly in the chest.

“No, I couldn't have. The only thing that I can provide for you right now is safety from the creatures of the night after the people decided to burn down that woman you call a witch.” The hand was swatted away and the tip of his hat was pulled downward to hide his irritated expression.

“Cause she was a bloody witch!” The man shouted, rather angrily. D fell silent upon those words. He knows well that marrying a vampyre would be more than enough to get her killed though he doesn't know the whole story. After a couple of seconds, he had found himself walking away from the male, hearing curses escape his rather vulgar mouth. Humans in Wallachia didn't seem like the best group of people, rather inappropriate and stupid; blind. Seeing that most of the people were fine, he decided to leave them be for a moment and see if there was anything that he himself had needed.

“Hunter D!” He heard a familiar voice come from behind him which made him turn his gaze.

“Speaker . . .have you grown tired of them already?” As much as it seemed like it was a joke, the tone of his voice was serious.

“Well yes and no. I left the two of them alone so I would be able to find a covered wagon and some horses for travel. We can't move as fast as we want to on bare feet, you know?”

“That didn't seem like the best idea to leave them alone with one another. Maybe they are going at each other's throats right now.”

“I wouldn't be surprised. They haven't stopped their stupid bickering.” The female would let out a soft sigh, closing her eyes in the process. “I was wondering if maybe you can tag along with us. I know that you wish to tend to the people but it will be faster if we were to all travel together, don't you think?”

“As much as that seems to be true, I do not think that I will have the patience to deal with those two and if I went off on my own and fought off those night creatures before they reached you, it would make travel much smoother.” Sypha nodded her head, that would probably be the best option and she is sure that the small dispute between him and Alucard may get worse.

“Just promise that you won't get yourself killed, alright?”

“How insulting, I am a hunter. I am only doing my job.” D turned himself away but before he could walk away, a bag of coins was tossed in Sypha's direction which was caught. “This should pay for what you need for now. Between the three of you alone, I am sure that you wouldn't have enough.”

“Thank you, I'll make sure the two idiots don't get a hold of it.” With that being said, she watched D as he began to walk away from her before leaving herself to go the opposite direction. She knew it may take some time for her to find someone who sold wagons, nonetheless horses. It was likely that the night creatures could have destroyed them to stop the people from leaving but with their journey, the trio needed one.

#yugenwrites #vhd #vampire hunter d #alucard tepes #sypha belnades #trevor belmont #Castlevania #dxalucard #alucardxd #neckfast club

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