#but now its vanished from my archive

[littleeyesofpallas]

KOWLOON GENERIC ROMANCE[九龍ジェネリックロマンス]

[jayaury]

Inn-Dulgence

Another from the archives! And as always, there's plenty more on my P*treon!

#

In some ways, it was the indignity of being caught that grated the most.

Julian Larnd grunted and tested the cuffs that held his arms behind his back once more, but the enchanted steel gave nothing, securing him to the thick support pillar. Damn damn damn! He should have realized the inn was in league with the cult. It was the perfect hiding place for members! But he’d had no indication their influence had spread so far.

He sighed, leaning back and banging his head with a dull thunk against the pillar. Not much of a cell, but secure enough. He glared ruefully at the dim bulks of barrels not far. He could still feel a faint muzziness from the drugged ale they’d given him, but it was dispersing now. There had to be a way out. There had to be! A Ranger of the Silver Bow didn’t just give up. There was a way out of this. He just had to think of it.

A creak of the door had him jerk upright, every sense keyed up. The door swung open at the top of the steps, and the barmaid from the evening before came in.

Seeing her once more, Julian realized ruefully how easily he’d been caught. Any man would have been distracted by the sight of the gorgeous woman. Especially her large breasts, held in her tight peasant bodice, though with a somewhat scandalously low cut. It took him an effort of will to look away from those plump orbs and to her face, which was hardly a loss. She was strikingly lovely in a hometown kind of way, her short red hair framing a pretty face with a small nose and sprinkling of freckles. A short skirt drew the eye to long legs and wide hips, which swung tantalisingly with her lazy stride.

Lizzie. That was the name she’d given him while serving his ale. He felt again a flush of annoyance at how shamelessly he’d flirted with her the night before, never suspecting the drink she served would be drugged.

But her allure hadn’t entirely vanished for him, testament to which was it took Julian a moment to notice the tray of bread and mug of water she carried.

“Hey there, sugar,” she said, shooting him a dazzling smile. “How goes it?”

“Oh, just great,” Julian said acidly. “I’m in raptures.”

She giggled, and Julian tried to ignore how his heart skipped at the sound. “You’re funny,” she said, placing the dish down in front of him. Yet she didn’t go at once, instead crouching before him, looking at him impishly.

Julian eyed her closely. She didn’t strike him as the sort that would be in deep with the cult. Too flighty. Those who summoned demons inevitably began to feel the corruption, becoming maddened as the power and influence of their demonic patrons infested them with their foul magics. She might be new to the cult. Which meant she might be his way out…

“Do you know what your fellow cultists are doing?” he said.

“Why don’t you tell me what they’re doing?” she said coyly.

He leaned forward. “Your ‘friends’ are seeking to feed mortal souls to demons!”

“Gosh! Is that right?” she giggled.

He shook his head. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of this,” he said. “Those whose souls are devoured by a demon soon lose any semblance of humanity. They become little more than mindless thralls, enraptured by the demon who devoured them.”

“Goodness!”

“And those are the lucky ones,” Julian growled, the thought making his blood fire with rage. “The unlucky ones are unable to offer even a token resistance. They give themselves eagerly to the demons, and as a result, are fed upon, transformed into creatures like their patrons. Monsters of cruelty and mindless obedience to the demon who devoured their essence.”

“Quite the expert, hm?” she said.

Julian snorted. “I should be. I kill them.”

“Didn’t do a good job this time, though, huh?”

Julian scowled, the reminder stinging, especially coming from such a pretty woman. “I… underestimated the cult,” he said. “But not again. If I could get free, I could banish the fiend and free its worshippers.”

“You’d do that?” she said.

“Of course!”

“Oh, but,” the redhead said, putting a coy finger to her pouting lips with thought. “What if the cultists didn’t wanna be free? What if they super duper love her?”

“They are deluded,” Julian said sharply. “Drawn to the demon by promises and the allure of the forbidden, and too late do many realize the depths of depravity they will be forced to plunge. Do you really want your friends to face such a fate? Your neighbours? To be little more than soulless, mindless puppets of a demon?”

“And if I let ya go, you could stop her?” the barmaid said, still with that teasing smile.

“Of course!”

“Even if she’s super duper pretty? What if she’s got cute horns and big, bouncy tits like these?”

Julian felt the muscles in his neck twitch as she hefted her breasts through her top. Heat rose in his face and he cleared his throat. “O-of course! Such things would not stay my blade.”

“But what if she’s got pretty golden eyes and is like, just tons of fun.”

“Yes, dammit!”

“But what if she looks like… this?”

Her eyes flashed a molten gold. Her teeth suddenly sharpened with a pair of small fangs. Her body grew, her clothes creaking under the sudden swell of her figure. Her chest tore the lacing of her blouse, her skirt ripping to rags against plump thighs. Her skin darkened, turning a lurid red, and twin horns curved back like those of a goat along her hair.

Julian jerked back, gasping as a scent of smoke and mint suddenly engulfed him. He swooned, but shook it off, squinting and glaring at the creature.

“You…”

“Aw, don’t be like that, honey!” Lizzie said with another blinding smile. “You look much cuter when ya smile. Just a cute, handsome slayer too dumb to see the demoness fawnin’ all over him. Not that you were complaining much.”

“B-bitch!” Julian snapped furiously, tugging at his bindings. “If I were free, I’d-”

“Oh sure. Sure,” she said with an airy wave. “You’d kill me. Slay me and send me back t’ the pit I’d spawned from. Which is super mean a ya, by the by. Because I love it up here! So much fun and pretty boys and girls just lookin’ for a good time. And why shouldn’t I give to them? They loooove it.”

“You are a monster!” Julian snapped. “A creature of darkness and sin.”

“Totes! But that’s what makes it so fun, right?” she said with a twinkle of a smile.

“But hey,” Lizzie continued, scooting closer, grinning wickedly at him. “I’m a fair girl. So tell you what I’ll do. I’ll undo your cuffs in five minutes.”

“You’re lying,” he growled.

“Nope! Cross my heart and hope to burn,” she said.

“Why the hell would you do that?” he demanded hotly.

“Well, so’s you can get those hands of yours on my big, bouncy tits of course,” Lizzie giggled, giving her breasts another bounce.

Julian choked on his rage, the sight making his mouth feel suddenly dry. He tore his eyes from the display and to her smiling face. “I’d sooner cut them off!”

“Nuh uh! You’ll want to touch them too bad. You’ll be desperate to bury that pretty face of yours between my honkin’ tits and just smother yourself like a good human. Just get yourself buried under my big, soft, titties! Just a naughty slayer. So I’ll totes do it!”

Julian tensed. “You’re mad and a liar, and we both know it.”

“No way! See? I swear it. Swear it on the Red Throne and the Black Crown.”

Julian gaped as she made a crossing gesture over her chest, and in the wake of her talon an X mark burned before it faded. An oath to the Throne and the Crown was unlike any other to a demon. To make it was to swear upon the name of the ruler of the hells themselves. It could not be broken by a creature of the infernal realms. To even try would invite a fate worse than mere death or pain.

“But… why?” Julian could only ask.

“Oh, that’s suuuuper simple,” Lizzie giggled as her hands lifted, dropped, bounced her bust before him. “Because I’m plum certain you can’t wait to kiss my big tits…”

Julian glowered, glaring at her, but found his eyes drawn once more to her breasts. To the way her hands pressed those pillowy crimson orbs together. The way they seemed almost to ripple with the bouncing motions.

Gods but those were fantastic breasts.

Not that Julian was an expert, of course. He’d always known that demons were at their best when tempting mortals with sins of the flesh, and thus he’d avoided such entrapping. Quite sensibly, of course. But even so, he felt certain that no woman he’d ever known had such… such perfect breasts. Breasts that seemed almost tailored to the motions. The ups and downs. The way they seemed to quiver as they dropped, nipples stiff and trembling when her bust landed atop her crossed arms.

“Ooooh, a real connoisseur of titties, aren’t you?” Lizzie crooned.

“I-I am not!” Julian snapped. “Such lewd displays cannot… It’s disgusting!”

“Oh you’re soooo right!” Lizzie giggled, her hands ceasing their bouncing motions, instead running over her plump orbs, stroking her titflesh, tracing the curve of her bust, her fingers swirling around the coal black of her areola. “Look at how evil my big breasts are. So naughty and sinful. So dumb and fat. And my nipples ‘r sooooo needy, ya know? Just awful, naughty things! And don’t they look all wrong without a pair of lips wrapped around them, huh? Without some cute, dumb, horny thrall just suckin’ and moanin’ like a tooootal tit slave.”

Julian felt his blush burn again. But somehow, he felt like… like she was right. Her nipples did look so… so lewd just being out there. They should be covered. And yes. A pair of lips sucking them would do that. A tongue teasing. Stroking. He wondered what she would taste like? Would it be minty? Like her perfume? Or something else? Something unique to her. Something he couldn’t even dream of.

Gods but his mouth was dry. His lips quivered and he licked them, trying not to, but not quite able to stop himself.

“Aw, what’s the matter? Still think my perfect tits are evil? Thinkin’ they’re soooo sinful and sooooo bad?” Lizzie cooed.

“O-of course!” Julian gasped.

“And you’re soooo right, sugar! But that’s what makes them fun,” Lizzie giggled as her fingers tweaked her nipples, wrenching a gasping moan from her. “Ohhh! My naughty nipples are soooo fun to play with. Humans just can’t get enough a sucklin’ on them like cute bimbos.”

“You enchant them,” Julian panted, his chest heaving. Gods, he was so hot. He could feel the heat of his body pulse through him like his veins were fire. “You… you use your… your demonic powers to… to…”

“Sure do,” Lizzia giggled. “I totes do. I use my naughty powers to make everyone fall in love with my perfect, bouncy tits! Not that it takes much. They’re all soooo ready to fall for them. Just desperate to become good, brainless bimbos for my bouncy tits.”

“I n-never would.”

“You suuuuure about that?” Lizzie teased.

Wasn’t he? Or was she trying to corrupt him now? It wouldn’t surprise him. She was a demon. But… but so what? He could resist her. Resist her big, bouncy tits. He wouldn’t let them bounce away his thoughts. Dumb his mind. And… and he only had to… had to last five minutes. He could last ten times that long. No big titted bimbo would… would get the best of him.

“Won’t get… turned,” he growled.

“Oooooh, of course you won’t, darlin’,” Lizzie giggled. “You’re soooo strong. My big, soft, bouncy tits can’t make you all silly. All dumb.”

“Y-yes. That’s… that’s right… Yeah,” Julian grunted.

“You’re soooo strong, Julian,” she giggled. “Sooo powerful. You can resist me so well. My big, soft, fat titties could never enthrall ya. You’re much too smart. Much too much ‘f a stud. Much too strong to become a mindless bimbo for my big tits…”

Julian scowled. She… she was teasing him. He knew that. Could feel it. But… but wasn’t she right? He was strong. Strong enough to resist her breasts. Her powers. He could do it. He was doing it.

Wasn’t he?

Yes. Yes, of course he was. He was resisting her. He knew it. He felt fine. A little light headed. Light and… and soft like her breasts. But that was to be expected. It was expected. It was fine. He was fine.

“Feeling dumb yet, handsome?” Lizzie cooed as her fingers squeezed her breasts together. “Feeling your thoughts getting’ all numb and floaty?”

“O-of course not.”

“Oh goooood!” she crooned, hefting her breasts, dropping them. “So goooood. You’re resistin’ me so wonderfully, sugar! I have noooo power over ya. My big tits are totally failin’ to make you fall for them.”

“Exact… exactly…”

“And whoops! It’s five minutes,” she said.

Julian blinked blankly, looked up to her smiling face. “Huh?” he said.

Clink.

Julian slowly brought his arms up from behind his back, looking in wonderment at his free hands. He raised his head to the succubus.

“Oops!” Lizzie giggled, still fondling and massaging her impressive chest. “Looks like ya won, stud! Awww. And now you can do whatever you want with me.”

Julian blinked vaguely. “I… yes. Wh-whatever…”

“Especially,” she said, scattering his thoughts anew, “since you’re clearly so powerful ‘nd tough. Soooo smart you easily resisted my big tits. You’re much too strong to get brainwashed even now. You could do just aaaaanything to me.”

He… he could, couldn’t he?

After all, he was resisting. He wasn’t enthralled. He was still fine. Perfectly fine. In fact, his head felt clearer than he could remember. He could do it. He was resisting her so easily now. He wasn’t even trying and she had no influence over him. He could do anything he wanted…

“Like bury your face between my big… bimbo… tits…” Lizzie crooned.

He found himself staring at them again. At those perfect breasts. Perfect and big. Perfect and soft. Yes. Yes, he could do that, couldn’t he? He had resisted her thus far. She hadn’t influenced his mind. He could bury his face between those flawless orbs. Feel how soft they no doubt were.

“Go on,” Lizzie crooned. “Just do it. I’m soooooo helpless, darlin’.”

Julian nodded slowly, never noticing his nodding head was timed to the bounce of her bust. He leaned forward, shuddering as he inhaled the sweet aroma of her perfume. That spiciness of mint. Closer. Closer. Her breasts filling his vision. His world.

He felt her hand on the back of his head, urging him further forward. He took a shuddering breath as his face was eased into the valley between her breasts, a whimper escaping him as those glorious orbs squished around his face. Soft as clouds. Out of this world...

“O-ohhhhh,” he moaned.

“Isn’t that niiiice?” Lizzie said, her voice dulled by the softness pressing against his ears, yet seeming to vibrate through her and into him. “Ain’t it so relaaaaxing being between my big, bouncy boobs? So easy to relax. And you can toooootally relax, right? You’re super strong and brave and all that stuff.”

He was, wasn’t he? Julian smirked to himself at how easily he had overcome the succubus. Such a simple thing. But that was why he was the hunter, and she the prey.

“Hey!” Lizzie giggled overhead. “I bet you’ve been wanting to kiss my big tits a whole bunch, huh? You could totally do that too! I can’t stop you at all. I’m already beaten by you. Just helpless before the big, strong hunter.”

Julian laughed to himself. She was so dumb! She still sounded like she was teasing him. But that was silly of her. She was utterly at his mercy. But he supposed he shouldn’t expect too much from a dumb bimbo like her.

But she was right about one thing. He could totally kiss her breasts. And he’d wanted to for so long. And why not? He was totally in control. Utterly in command. He chucked to himself and pressed his lips against her breasts. Once on each side. The taste tingled on his lips and tongue. He was right. She did taste a little minty. But again, there was something deeper beneath that spice of flavour. Something smoky and alluring. Attractive yet nameless.

“Ohhhh! That’s iiiiit!” Lizzie moaned, squeezing his head further into her bust. “Kiss my big tittes, mister big mean hunter. Lick my needy nipples! Oh gosh. Oh gosh, i’m sooooo totally at your mercy! Just a poor, dumb bimbo slut who can’t resist the big bad hunter!”

“That’s… that’s right,” Julian growled, his tongue feeling thick, his voice slurring as if with drink. But he’d gotten over the ale. He wasn’t drunk anymore. He was totally in control. He could do anything. She was his. His captive. His… his…

“Wanna fuck me?”

Julian lifted his face from between her breasts, staring at the smirking visage of the demoness. “Wh-what?”

Lizzie giggled, her hands touching his head, pressing him back into her breasts, his mouth and nose sandwiched in that blessed softness. “Wanna fuck me?” she purred. “Want to pound that big, manly cock into my pretty pink pussy? Wanna make me scream and beg for more? Wanna to really conquer me, pretty boy?”

Julian stared, his sluggish mind struggling. There… there was something… something wrong about that. Something bad. He could feel it on the tip of his tongue. It… it would feel good but… but…

“Y… you’ll drink my… my soul if I… if I do,” Julian finally managed to say.

“Noooo, silly!” Lizzie cooed, petting his head, smoothing back his hair and making his nose and cheeks bounce softly against her heavy titflesh. “That’d only happen if I’d beaten you! But who ever heard about a hunter who beat a succubus getting his soul drained? That never happens!”

That… that did sound right. It made sense. Didn’t it? It must. He’d always been warned that if a hunter lost, a succubus would inevitably fuck the soul out of him. But he’d never heard of triumphant hunters getting their soul drained. At least, he didn’t think so. Some detail about that was bothering him. But he was having a very hard time figuring out what that was as her breasts squished around his face. So soft. So warm. The scent of mint and the musky huskiness filling his nose and head with swirly fumes.

“Go for it, cutie,” Lizzie cooed, still stroking his head. Soothing his worries. “You deserve it.”

He did.

He did deserve it.

He’d bested the succubus.

He’d conquered her.

Resisted her.

He deserved some fun.

He deserved some pleasure.

He deserved to take what he wanted from this dumb, busty bimbo.

Yes.

Yes.

He deserved it all.

And he would take it.

He pushed her back, Lizzie gasping, then giggling as she fell to the floor. She gazed up at him, her cheeks flushed an even more lurid crimson. She opened her arms, and Julian didn’t even think twice before pushing forward. Kissing her hard. Fiercely. He felt her hand on his pants, tugging them open. His cock came out, throbbing, pulsing. Yes. Yes! He’d fuck this bitch. This fucking whore. This demonic slut. He’d show her!

“Ohhhhhh!” he groaned as he felt the tight heat of her pussy close around his cock. Squeeze his tender manhood. His body began to thrust, pounding his cock into her, the bouncy orbs of her breasts inches before his eyes, swaying with every frantic thrust into her.

“Yes!” Lizzie cried. “Yes! Fuck me! Make me cum! Tame me! Tame me with your big cock! Oh fuck. Fuck yes! Yes! Don’t stop! Ohhhh! Don’t stoooop! Make me cum! Make me your bitch! Cum in me! Cum for me! Cum for Lizzie!”

Julian panted, gasped, his head throbbing. Pounding. His body rocking as he furiously thrust into her with ever greater urgency. He had to cum. He needed to cum! He had to cum and finally show her… show her what he was made of!

And it was so good. So wonderful! Her pussy was like a perfect sleeve around him. Rippling around his cock. Warm and eager. Pulling him into her almost lovingly. Julian moaned and whined as he increased his pace. His orgasm was so near.

“Cum! Cum with me, pretty boy! Cum with mistress! Cum for meeeee! Ohhhhh!” Lizzie cried as her inner walls suddenly clamped around him, squeezing him.

And Julian came.

His orgasm surged through him like a great wave. It tingled from his toes and fingers, rushing through him and into his cock. He cried out, shuddering as he released inside her. As he spurted his hot load in her.

“Yesssss!” Lizzie groaned, shuddering as he came, her own orgasm seizing her in that glorious moment, her pussy milking him while her breasts heaved at the sudden intensity of orgasm. Her arms grabbed Julian’s head, pulled him into the cushions of her breasts.

Julian moaned, vertigo spinning him. He felt like he had been balancing on a precipice, and suddenly had toppled over. His eyes rolled back, weakness aching through him as his cock surrendered, spurting a last few times. Aftershocks robbing him of strength.

A sudden emptiness filled him. Julian groaned, his head lolling back between her breasts, looking up at Lizzie’s face.

The succubus smirked down at him, radiant. Not just radiant. Glorious. Her skin glowed softly, her eyes sparking with delight and malice, her lips lifted in amusement as she gazed down into Julian’s glassy eyes. Soulless eyes.

She pet the former hunter’s head, and her touch shuddered through Julian like white hot ecstasy. “Who’s my pretty bimbo pet?” Lizzie asked.

“M-meeee,” Julian droned, his jaw sagging in dumb obedience, entranced by the sight of the woman who had devoured his soul.

Lizzie giggled, pulling his head back between her soft breasts. “You know it, sugar! Ooooh, you’re gonna be such a good bimbo for mistress, ain’tcha? I can’t wait to show you off to the other girls.”

Julian glowed from her praise, blushed against her breasts. Yes. Yes, he couldn’t wait either. Couldn’t wait for mistress to do whatever she wanted. Couldn’t wait to show he was such a good bimbo for her.

He nuzzled her breasts, moaning as her pussy squeezed his tender cock once more. Yes. He was going to be a good thrall.

A good slave for mistress Lizzie…

[dark-and-kawaii]

Daughters

Raphael x F!Tav/Reader

Haarlep x F!Tav/Reader

⋆˙⟡♡ Summary: Two separate little stories for Raphael & Haarlep being parents!!

⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: Purely self indulgent!! I just really love the thought of them both being parents okay! Especially Haarlep!!! I brought back Impsy from a previous story as well for Haarlep’s story!! Enjoy xoxo

⋆˙⟡♡ Parenthood | Dadphael | Fluff | Haarlep As A Parent ♡

Prt 2. - Prt 3.

Raphael

Raphael tended to his duties amidst the solemn quietude of his archive. Engrossed in the scrutiny of a newly inked contract, the rustle of hurried steps reached his ears. With a practiced motion, and without a glance away from his script, he caught hold of his daughter's tail as she attempted to dart past.

The abrupt interruption of her sprint sent her tumbling, "gah!"

"Pray tell, to what urgent destination are you racing?" Raphael inquired, his attention steadfast upon the curling letters of the contract.

"Nooowhere..." came the sheepish, drawn-out reply.

Raphael's voice, still calm and measured, carried a note of paternal admonishment, "Venture not too far, and refrain from such reckless haste within the archive. These relics are delicate, their histories irreplaceable.”

The little devil, a mischievous glint in her eyes, nodded slowly, her tail now still in her father's firm but gentle grasp. With a reluctant sigh, she straightened up, her posture mimicking the elegance she so often saw in her father.

"Sorry, father," she said, her voice a mix of feigned contrition and lingering excitement. "I'll be more careful. But, um, can I ask you something?"

Raphael finally lifted his gaze, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that belied his calm exterior. "Of course, child. You know you may always speak freely."

She shuffled her feet, the earlier urgency replaced with a sudden shyness. "Yoooou are going to meet with a client later, and I... I was wondering if maybe I could watch? I promise I'll be silent and still as a statue!"

A small, knowing smile crept onto Raphael's lips. "A client, you say? Very well. You may observe, but under two conditions: You shall not interrupt, and you shall learn. There is much to be gained from understanding the art of negotiation and the binding of contracts."

Her face lit up, a beaming smile cutting through her attempts at decorum. "Yes, father! Thank you! I'll be the best statue you've ever seen!"

Raphael released her tail, and with a gentle push, he encouraged her toward the door. "Go then, prepare yourself. But remember, should you break your promise, there will be consequences. We are, after all, a family of our word."

The Apple of his eyes nodded vigorously before darting off, this time with a skip rather than a sprint, her excitement barely contained as she vanished from the archive.

Raphael's eyes returned to the contract before him, the smile lingering a moment longer before the mask of the composed dealmaker settled back into place. He placed it down on the table so he could focus on you, the mother of his heir who slept soundly at his side on the opulent sofa, your head resting upon his lap as he stroked your head. His gaze shifted to the crown of karsus, the brown irises tracking its form, “A family of our word, indeed."

Haarlep

The day arrived when the cries of a newborn half demon echoed through the halls. Haarlep approached the cradle, where a tiny creature with horns just sprouting from its head and a mischievous glint in its eyes lay. The tiny creature a perfect mix of you both. The incubus's heart, though not often given to warmth, swelled a tad with a strange pride.

"Ah, my little impling," Haarlep mused aloud, a smirk playing across their lips. "How I long to see the chaos you'll unleash."

It didn’t take long, Haarlep could barely believe their child was growing so fast…

"Come now, offspring," Haarlep spoke with a softness no one would believe they possessed. The incubus opened the curtains to your room, the moon casting down upon the city, "You see this world? It's yours to play with, to bend and to shape. I will teach you the art of emotional manipulation, to dance with the hearts of mortals as one plays the lyre." The child clung to their parents leg, its tiny tail giving an excited twitch, Haarlep could only grin.

“Haarlep~” You sung their name, catching your lovers attention.

“Hm?”

You crossed your arms, your infamous imp, Impsy, standing next you, doing the same with an arched brow. A subtle smile crossing your features, “…She’s 3…”

“You are just no fun, are you?”

As the child grew, it became clear that she was indeed Haarlep's progeny, causing minor chaos with a mere giggle, and using her innate powers to toy with the emotions of those around her. But Haarlep's teachings were not yet complete.

"One must never be alone, my little tyrant," Haarlep instructed one evening. "Tonight, you will summon Impsy. A loyal playmate for all your days."

Their child, eager and wide-eyed, nodded and began to chant under Haarlep's careful guidance. The air shimmered, and with a pop, a small imp appeared, its face unamused with its little foot tapping on the ground.

"Hells…” Impsy held the bridge of its nose, “I can’t believe there’s two of you now.” The imp shook its head, “But I mean look at her!“ Impsy’s eyes sparkled wide as it walked up to the tiny little halfbreed, pinching her cheek, “Awh she looks perfect as always! Let’s thank the gods for Tavy’s good genes-“ Impsy smirked at Haarlep, “would’ve been a shame if she got your looks!”

Haarlep watched, a proud smirk etched on their face, as their child and Impsy ran off to pull their first prank together. The bond between them was immediate since her birth, and the imp proved to be a fitting companion for the young thing.

Time passed, and the little half demon grew bolder, often attempting to slip away to explore or cause mischief beyond Haarlep's or your watchful eye. On one such occasion, the child tried to race out of the room, her tiny tail swishing excitedly behind her. With a swift movement, Haarlep's foot came down upon the tail, causing the little demon to tumble onto her rump.

"And where do you think you're going?" Haarlep asked, his tone playful yet stern, the smirk on his face belying his true delight in the little one's antics.

The child pouted, looking up at her father with a mix of annoyance and admiration.

"To explore, to play!" She exclaimed, her eyes shining with the promise of trouble.

Haarlep chuckled, lifting their foot. "Tut, tut. Patience my little one." Haarlep’s mind reflects back to when they were gifted to Mephistopheles… Then Raphael… The incubus’s features twisting at the memories. They wouldn’t allow such a fate for their offspring, “I shall join you, we’ll play a little game! Together! In the city with all those fools.”

[sitp-recs]

Hello!! Thank you for this blog really its been so lovely reading fics from the master list I've discovered drarry because of you! My favorite "trope" so far is draco who's struggling a lot but manages to preservere and even find humour in the worst situations. I find his character that way truly inspiring. Do some fics like that come to mind? I'd love to hear your recommendations and to read more fics like this

Hi anon! Welcome to Drarry, I’m so happy to see you enjoying the lists 💜 I love a struggling Draco who’s still proud and snarky and a little shit, that’s such a great take on the trope! Here are some recs focused on Draco’s resilience and perseverance. You can also check GallaPlacidia’s archive, who usually explores this trope in a sweet and light-hearted way. And if I can add something on the angstier side, Take A Chance On Me by @mintawasalreadytaken and Winner Takes It All by @skeptiquewrites are two underrated masterpieces among my top favorite down & out Draco fics. I’ll come back to add more titles as they come to mind. Enjoy!

Rebuilding Draco Malfoy by khasael (E, 11k)

Draco wants to do something to get his life back on track, but no-one seems to be taking him seriously – until he finds himself in an Auror training session led by Harry Potter.

The Year of Non-Magical Thinking by whiskyandwildflowers (E, 13k)

"I don't know what I'm going to do, Potter. I'll think of something. So will you. But this is my journey to self-actualization," Draco managed to smirk. "You can fuck off and get your own."

Open For Repairs by @drarrytrash (M, 35k)

After the war, Draco works at a tv repair shop and Harry breaks things.

The Vanishing Department by @dictacontrion (E, 47k)

The things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, even if that involves a lot more form-filling, bickering, covert glancing, miscommunication, and flying furniture than we might expect.

Heal Thyself by astolat (T, 47k)

"Are you going for the course?" Lovegood asked. "You have the NEWTs.” “What course?” Draco said, then, “No, don’t be ridiculous,” when he realized she meant the notice pinned up on the board he’d been staring at: Applicants To The Introductory Mediwizard Course For The Coming Term Shall Present Themselves In The Chief Mediwizard’s Office By August 24th.

Kept in Cages by @sweet-s0rr0w, @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (E, 77k)

Deep in the heart of the Ministry lies the Beast Division: a hidden room where ancient beasts roam, and winged creatures soar, and grumpy giant ferrets eat all your biscuits unless you keep them well hidden. Draco Malfoy would know – he’s been working there for five years now, after all.

The Liars Department by @dorthyanndrarry (T, 103k)

This is a story about Harry meeting up with Draco Malfoy four years after the war. And a story about Harry, well, not hating his job per say, but it's not like he has much to compare it to and it seemed fine. His whole life seemed fine. Then Malfoy came along with and his flashy suits and fast car making everything seem dull in comparison, and Harry... Harry couldn't just leave well enough alone.

By the Grace by lettered (T, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

Whatever You Want, Draco Malfoy by DorthyAnn (E, WIP)

Draco lost his home and the only society he knew after the war. He ended up living in the muggle world, making new friends and new connections and maybe some sort of peace. Even if that peace was usually found at the bottom of a bottle. It was enough for him. He was content to just exist. Then Harry Potter decided to ruin everything.

[suppose-i-was-worm]

Ghost on the Stairs

**alright, alright. I asked and y'all answered. Here's my siblings Bruce and Danny fic!**

“Boo!”

Bruce clattered to a stop on the floor, holding his arms out for his baby brother as the boy toddled his way forward.

“Hey, Danny! Did you miss me while I was at school?”

Danny waved chubby arms, clearly delighted that Bruce was waiting for him. He was all of two years to Bruce’s seven, and the two of them were almost inseparable.

Chancing a look over to his mother, Bruce found her and father smiling fondly at the two of them. Alfred was coming up behind them with a tea tray.

“Boo!”

Bruce turned back to his brother, only to lurch forward as his tiny brother took a step straight into a swirling green portal that opened up from nowhere.

Danny’s screech as he fell was cut off by the portal shutting with a snap, leaving Bruce on his hands and knees, reaching for air.

Mother, father, and Alfred all clustered around him as he began to cry, and the four of them began desperately looking for the youngest member of the family.

They never found him, and a year later, Bruce lost his parents to a gun. At least that was something he could fight against.

When Bruce became Batman at the age of twenty-two, he finally erected a gravestone for his baby brother, right next to their parents. If Danny ever came back, he wouldn’t be the same boy who had vanished.

~~~

Red Robin swung into the building, breaking through the window with his momentum. The cult surrounding a magic circle on the floor of the warehouse had been causing a ruckus in Gotham, and the bats had finally had enough.

Just as they finished knocking out the cultists, the magic circle flared to life and a green pool bloomed from the floor.

Tim, purely out of scientific curiosity, leaned closer, only to be pulled back roughly by Batman.

“Stay away from it.”

“B?”

Batman grabbed a batarang from where it had landed in the melee and threw it with a precise hand, cutting through one of the lines of chalk surrounding the pool.

Narrowing his eyes, Tim watched Bruce’s face- his expression right now was all Bruce, no Bat in sight- sorrow mixed with relief.

Once the pool had vanished completely, Bruce pulled Tim into his arms.

“Woah, what’s up B?”

“I cannot lose you too.”

The moment passed, and Red Robin found himself following Batman as the vigilante swept out of the building.

~~~

“Constantine.”

“Bats. Nice of you to call. What do you need?”

“I sent you a data packet. What is the summoning circle for?”

Constantine was quiet for a long while as he perused the files Bruce had sent him. Bruce paced in front of the batcomputer, glad that all his children were in bed for the night. Somehow they had known something was wrong, and every single one of them had come to the manor- even Jason.

“Looks like an attempt to summon a being of the Infinite Realms to me.”

“Infinite Realms?”

“Mhmm. The afterlife, if you will.”

Bruce couldn’t help the small wheeze as his airways caught. Constantine didn’t seem to notice, as he continued.

“The ghosts haven’t been as active lately, not since the new king came into power. It’s been maybe two decades since?”

“I would like to meet this king.”

“Why?”

“It would be politically intelligent of us to make allies.”

Constantine sighed, long and loud.

“Fine. Give me a week to gather up the stuff.”

~~~

Jason glanced over the thin information brief that Bruce handed down, skimming it at first, until something caught his eye.

“B?”

“Hn.”

“According to this, the being we’re trying to summon is damn powerful. Wouldn’t it be better to do this on the Watchtower with more backup?”

“Yeah B,” Dick chimed in, “Constantine’s report does say that the guy is rumored to be a wandering spirit, which limits his power, but what if that’s not right?”

Jason looked back down at the papers, his eyes darting through to find out what a wandering spirit was.

A ghost that couldn’t find its grave. Part of Jason ached at the thought, and he didn’t quite understand why.

“Fine. We will summon the king at the Watchtower.”

Small victories.

~~~

Bruce was not a praying man, and yet here he was, hoping against hope that this ghost could assist him in finding out what happened to his brother.

The sigils on the floor flared to light, and a now familiar green portal swirled into being. The entire room waited with bated breath for a few moments, and then a young woman rose from the portal.

Batman knew what it felt like to be stabbed. There was no way he could have been, and yet there was a knife in his gut as he stared at this girl who looked so much like his mother, except for the inverted colors.

“The Ghost King thanks you for your call- Unfortunately he is currently unavailable. Please leave your message after the-“ the girl’s professional, almost robotic voice petered off. “Wait a minute- it’s here!”

Her eyes were wide, as was the smile she flashed at the group.

“Please hold.”

She sunk back into the pool, and Bruce took a step towards it, despairing of his chance.

And then she returned, dragging a young man up with her.

“Can you feel it, Phantom? It’s here! We can find it!”

“Calm down, Phantasm. We can go looking soon- first we need to find out why I was summoned.”

The young man turned to Diana, who was standing at the front of the group. She had been chosen as diplomatic leader, seeing as she was a Princess and Ambassador.

“Pardon my sister, how may I assist?”

Bruce let their conversation wash over him as he cataloged the young man’s features. They were so very similar- so close.

The man was both too young and too old. Daniel would be in his mid-forties had he lived, and only two if he’d died. This young man couldn’t be older than thirty.

As Diana’s explanation ended, the young man smiled.

“I agree. It would be advantageous of us to be allies, knowing what I know of this reality now. As allies, I must ask- what is the real reason I was summoned?”

He turned his green (wrong, too much like Damian’s) eyes to Bruce.

“Will you explain? The summoning was filled with great longing for something.”

Bruce stumbled forward, and surely to the shock of his teammates, friends, and children, fell to his knees before the king.

“My- my brother. He fell through a portal so similar to yours and I- I need to know what happened to him. Please.”

The king and his sister looked at each other before looking back at Bruce.

“The Infinite Realms are just that, infinite. However, I may be able to help.”

“Phantom!”

The king ignored his sister.

“What was his name, this brother of yours?”

Bruce hadn’t spoken his brother’s name in decades.

“Danny. Daniel Wayne.”

The room was so silent he could have heard a pin drop.

“And you gave him a grave when he never returned to you.”

Bruce looked up at the king, who was looking back contemplatively. The king’s sister was staring up at her brother with her mouth agape.

“I did.”

The king was very, very quiet, and the moment stretched on and on and on.

After a time, the room grew darker as the green pool closed slowly, and the two ghosts landed with barely a whisper of sound.

“I died at age fourteen,” the king began, musing his own thoughts. “As I died, I thought that the color of the ectoplasm surrounding me was too familiar in color and movement for that to have been my first experience with a portal.”

He took a step towards Bruce.

“It was terrifying and I was so afraid that I would be ripped away from everything I ever loved again.”

Two bright white rings circled the king, and Bruce found himself looking at a man who looked just like his mother, but with a twitch of the lips that was entirely his father’s.

“Hello, Boo. I’m afraid I can’t remember your name properly.”

Bruce took his cowl off slowly, wanting his baby brother to see him despite the fact that he was crying.

“We’ve got his chin, Danny.”

The girl was standing a little behind Danny, smiling. She winked at Bruce.

“He always did want to find his bio family.”

Bruce held his hand out, and Danny took it, using his position and apparently superior strength to pull Bruce into a hug.

“Bruce. Bruce Wayne.”

“Danny Nightingale- well. Nightingale-Wayne, I suppose.”

~~~

Danielle Nightingale (Wayne?) watched her original and his brother(!?!) hug it out. The big man in black was obviously not used to hugs.

“Miss?”

She turned to the inquirer, the nice looking ambassador from before. (Sue her, Dani hadn’t been listening to the conversation. She had been trying to pinpoint the location of their grave!)

“How can I help?”

Ambassador lady smiled at her.

“We were unaware that our teammate had siblings, and clearly Daniel has introduced himself. May we ask your name?”

Dani grinned.

“Oh, I’m not a sibling. I’m sibling-adjacent. Sibling clone? One of those. My name is Danielle, but I go by Dani with an i. It gets a little confusing since he’s Danny with a y.”

“I see. Welcome to the Watchtower, Dani. May I ask what you and his majesty are looking for that was found here?”

“Our grave, of course! Since I’m Danny’s clone, I can feel it too- a little distantly, but it’s not like I’ll get my own. I was born dead.”

Ambassador lady was looking a little faint. Dani took pity on her.

“But now I’m a kickass princess, so all’s well that ends well.”

“I suppose so.” The ambassador looked over at Danny and surprise brother with a small smile. “I suppose so indeed.”

[aurorangen]

From all the events of those days

Transcript & Bonus:

A neighbour notices the police

...

Charlie: [takes selfie with serious face] Got it ehehe. Look at that! Vincent: Wha-…is that you Charlie? Bleurgh this spit. Charlie: The one and only. Yah I'm gonna show this pic to Pam.

[It turned out that morning, the police came to update the case. My dad was confirmed as missing before we moved away and we did all we could to help then. Moreover, the corrupt officers disappeared too and were found working undercover at Gibbs Hill. So 4 people disappeared that year, although not simultaneously]

[There were no leads, so the investigation was closed. It seemed they truly did vanish into thin air. Loads of theories about their whereabouts were formed and whether they were linked. From all the existing evidence, it was concluded they had some connection to my dad…to me. I didn't want to think about it any longer]

[I was so glad Charlie came as well. He's the kind of friend that makes you forget all your worries] Charlie: [plays with Bella the dog] Yo I literally begged Dad to let me come too. I've not seen you in ages! Vincent: I can't believe you're here and it's crazy how long it's been. How are you Charlie?

Charlie: Urgh my cousins are so annoying. They both text me to complain about each other and I'm stuck in the middle, like what do I even say? I can't take sides [shakes head] Anyway, how's life Vince? Vincent: I'm a lot better, the countryside's great. And yeah I met the most amazing girl [talks about Nancy]

Vincent: What about you? [chuckles] I notice you keep real quiet about Pam when I call. Charlie: Mhmm…yeah about Pam…I'm dating her. Vincent: She already told me [gets playfully shoved and they laugh together]

...

?: [sees cop car in front of their neighbours] San Myshuno police? [walks to officer] Officer, may I ask why you are here in the quiet countryside? I hope nothing serious has happened to the Wilkinsons. Billy: Ma'am, we're only here to update the family on a missing person case. No need to worry, it's closed now.

Writer's note: I'm still trying to figure out how this will be solved. Strangerville is supposed to be next gen but it is also central to this...I'll think of something! That is why the investigation keeps being revisited or getting put in the archives for the future. I was going to add another pic, "Perhaps it was delusional thinking considering the cases linked but they may have disappeared voluntarily". So guys just allow it haha! It's obvious to you they are linked but not to them! No one outside knows a thing about Strangerville and its people, they leave nothing behind 👀

[quidell-fics]

New Story "A Tale Painted with Blood"

A Black Myth: Wukong fanfic

Sun Wukong x Reader/OC

The Destined One x Reader/OC

Summary: At the journey’s end, every path she’s tread unwinds to a single, quiet truth: her final breath, where even the stars bow to her fading light.

Act 1: Ember, nicknamed after her wildfire, blood-red hair, finds herself swept into a world far from the one she knew. What seemed at first a cruel twist of fate, a misstep in the grand scheme of fate, soon reveals itself as destiny's design. Her role, woven by powers she could never understand, is to guide The Destined One along the right course. But in the end, as doubt coils around her heart, she questions whether the choices she made have left her with nothing but ashes—or if the fiery and untamed Monkey King, Sun Wukong, is the very thing she needs to help rewrite her terrible fate.

Will Ember let fate forever change The Destined One into an untamed, wild force of raw furious power, or will her own doubts turn the tide of his own destiny? Which path will she choose, and will The Destined One even heed her desires in the end?

Or is the weight of his inherited obsession too overwhelming for him to resist…

Snippet: "Is it not plain?” he said, giving that cursed backscratcher another twirl. "You’re here to aid him." He flicked the scratcher toward the Monkey.

The Monkey flinched, his gaze darting between the man and me like he’d missed a crucial part of the joke. And, no doubt, I mirrored him.

"Uh, yeah, no. That's not happening," I snapped, slicing my hand through the air like a judge laying down a verdict. “There's absolutely no way I can help him…”

“I fear the luxury of choice is not on you, dear one. Should you seek to return home, but one path lies before you.”

My arms shot up in exasperation. "You can't be serious!" I shouted at the sky, praying some hidden camera was tucked away in the rocks around us, because this couldn't possibly be happening! "Enough already! Ha ha, real funny! But I’m done now!"

I spun in circles, desperate for a glimpse of a lens. "Come on, Susie! End the prank! Please? I don’t want to play anymore!"

And then, that chuckle. Low, knowing. “I pity you, child, in truth. Harsh though it may be to accept, I assure you—this is no jest.”

In a blink, he vanished in a puff of smoke, only to reappear at my side, his hand suddenly gripping my forearm. "You shalt need this for the journey that lies before you," he said, pressing a necklace into my palm before vanishing once more.

I actually felt him disappear. His small, pale hand dissolved from my skin, like that was just an everyday occurrence. And, apparently, it was.

"And you," his voice drifted from ahead. I glanced up to see him standing beside the Monkey, "will have its twin." He tossed a matching necklace to the Monkey, who caught it with barely a shrug, inspecting it without a word.

I looked down at my own, a black cord tied around a silver-black stone. It didn’t seem like much—nothing extraordinary… yet.

Note from author: Just wanted to add that I like writing realism into my stories... just a small heads up :)

@nyx-daughterofchaos98

@dressycobra7

[archesa]

So... @celestialalpacaron 's Overlord Husk AU has lived rent free in my head for a week, and I woke up with a fucken flu and chose violence wrote something! Enjoy!

Spiked cosmopolitan

[tw : implied past rape/non-con, past substance abuse, attempted rape/non con, canon-typical violence, we're dealing with Angel Dust's trauma so... Valentino is its own warning, really...]

He could tell when his drink was spiked. The distinct and nauseatingly familiar taste of pheromones ruining what would otherwise be a perfectly good cosmopolitan.

It was part of his job to entertain the guests of the casino, to play the flirt or the lucky-charm and keep the gamblers at the table as long as their wallets allowed – sometimes longer, but that was on them. And a stray hand or a lewd remark was nothing out of the ordinary, but the dizziness invading him - choking him almost - after he downed his glass was new.

How much of a dose did that fucker spill in his drink? Or had the month he'd been working for Husk – and being mostly clean – ruined his resistance?

He caught a glimpse of the bartender reaching for a phone when he reeled and knocked over his glass, the expensive crystal shattering on the mahogany floor, but the shark – figurative and literal – he'd been baiting all night caught his arm and guided him away, to a more secluded area of the club.

"Weren't much of a lucky charm tonight, were you, whorebug. But perhaps you can still turn it around and get me a win."

"Get off me, fucka!", Angel warned, another pair of arms sprouting off him to push the asshole away.

"Playing fucking hard to get, now?"

Fog invaded his vision, red smoke and suffocating memories, as the guise of playful roughness slid and the fish faced bastard slammed him in the nearest wall. He fumbled to unsheathe the 'chastity dagger' he had been almost jokingly gifted on his first week on the job from his thigh but the 'no weapons behind this door' rule seemed to have slipped the bastard's mind and Angel froze, another wave of hardly repressed memories drowning him at the sight of the rhinestones set butt of a gun in the shark's breast pocket and cold steel suddenly pressed under his chin burned his last figment of resistance.

It should be easy, really.

Dissociate.

Disappear.

Drown as the delusion of freedom is stripped away from you.

The contact of the canon vanished and he barely heard the gunshot, splinters and wood dust raining on him, the scent of brimstone and powder overwhelming for a mere second as he slid to the floor, his aggressor turning away from him just long enough for the cane that had plummeted on his arm and broken his grasp to shatter his skull.

Feathers and fur invaded his vision. Blood and shadows. And the sound of bones breaking, repeatedly, as the shark had the guts – guts soon spilled on the floor – to turn his weapon on Husk.

A hand. An arm. A ribcage. A jaw.

Each hit of his ornamented cane was followed by a blood curling scream. Until finally, the shark went limp.

"Drag that pile o' shit in the alley and finish him.", the Overlord ordered, two hell-hounds in elegant tux executing his command right away.

The world faded, darkness chasing the red mist and the stench of fish and roofies with a strong scent of age-old bourbon and cologne.

'If anyone treats you like an ass, I'll have 'em shot.'

[kates-dump]

My experience with Analog Horror/ARGs and why you should check them out

Marble Hornets: the classic, and a big favorite of mine for obvious reasons. I cannot stress enough how good and spooky that series is, and the ToTheArk videos gave me nightmares, love it! <3

If you're into Slenderman stories, you should definitely check it out. The acting is very well done and the story is awesome overall :)

The Sun Vanished: the ARG that started my interest for ARGs, and especially enigmas/internet puzzles. Unfortunately I was not smart enough to figure the stuff out by myself, so I just watched explanations on it. Highly recommended if you like post-apocalyptic settings and subtle horror.

The Mandela Catalogue: possibly the series that brought back my interest for these things. I have only watched the first two seasons of it, as I sadly lost interest after a while, but from what I have watched, I would recommend it to those of you who like horror with religious themes (which is a big thing for me) and most importantly, trust issues. Do keep in mind this series deals with more serious and dark topics, though you have probably heard it already.

Local58: the analog horror of all analog horrors, Local58 barged in before TMC took the spotlight. There is so much going on and all of it is very interesting and scary. America's pride leads to its doom, the moon can control electronic devices, and weird creatures spread through the world. If you like stories that leave you not understanding what the hell just happened but loving it anyway, you will love Local58.

Rocket Archives: A single-video series that has unfortunately been taken down for reasons I am not certain of. But if you're curious what it was about, the video presented a reality where us humans were forced to leave Earth with how hot it was getting, and moved to contained bubbles in space. Suddenly, uh oh! The sun's getting closer! Outer Wilds moment! Everything is melting! Humans are gone and the sun is... alive???

Analog Archives: made by the creator of Rocket Archives, has also been taken down but can still be found re-uploaded. The series is slightly similar to Local58, as in it also focuses on broadcast hijacking used for ending off humans. The series also includes a few religious topics that can get very dark. I love it. "Nature Show" makes me tear up with fear every time.

Gemini Home Entertainment: ALL-TIME FAVORITE MOMENT!!! I don't think I need to explain why I love this one so much. GHE leaves a lot to your imagination/speculation, while also twisting your head directly into the direction of the threat and forcing you to look at it while you squirm in fear. GHE is subtle in the most obvious way, obvious in the most subtle way, and most importantly, IT'S COSMIC HORROR, BABY!!! THERE IS A PLANET IN OUR SOLAR SYSTEM THAT GOT HERE UNINVITED AND NOW IT WANTS TO EAT US!!! UGHHHH I can't put in words why I think it's so good, it just is. Watch it. The Gardeners are cute, I swear. There's even a plush of them.

Monument Mythos: something something alternate realities, something something time loops. I have not watched all of it, barely even half, but I deemed it a little bit too confusing for my brain. BUT! If you're into things that boogle your mind, you might really like this series! I mean, world monuments are alive, what could be scarier?

Vita Carnis: EW. (affectionate)

But, seriously, if you like gross, you are certainly going to like this series. It's meat, and it's alive. Although, I did stop watching it because it got a tad too graphic and violent for my taste, but if that doesn't bother you, then I recommend it a lot! The editing is soooo good, and some of the creatures are very likable and cute ^v^ (the others are gross and I do not want them near me I do not WANT FUCK OFF)

Don't Look at the Moon: Minecraft spooky. Do I need to say more?

[yccoffeesimp]

Dan Heng looked at the grey-furred animal that rested in your arms. The raccoon stared back at him, still resting in your hold. Dan Heng wasn't even aware of how you even got a hold of it, especially how it let you just pick it up so easily.

After all, this was just to be a nice outing in Belobog to distract yourselves from the stressful events that recently have passed. Dan Heng barely went out of his room, his nightmares more frequent. You weren't so sure how you could help him being his partner. So you made a plan for the two of you to spend the afternoon together would help him a bit. It worked a bit, it wasn't so busy in Belobog today. Dan Heng probably couldn't be able to handle it if it was.

But during your little evening out, you both stopped at a large trash dumpster. Hearing noises coming from it. Thinking it could be a Warp Trotter, Dan Heng got Cloud Piecer out, with you taking your weapon out. You slowly walked towards it before immediately jumping at whatever was making the sounds. You lightly squealed, causing Dan Heng to begin to walk toward you. You were kneeling on the ground, immediately imagining the worst, Dan Heng rushed to your side before he saw the raccoon you now held.

"Look, Dan Heng!" You smiled, slightly raising the mammal towards Dan Heng. "A raccoon?" He said, his shoulders falling a bit from the stress he had before now vanished. "Isn't it cute?" Dan Heng took a closer look at it. Soft grey fur with a patch of black fur on its face. It looked fairly cute but it had a little weird trash slop on its hands. "It is but I don't think you should be holding it.." He replied.

"Why not?" You asked, Dan Heng sighed. "It was just near a dumpster, there's no telling what it was doing or where it's been. Plus it could have several diseases for all we know." He answered."True.." You mumbled, looking at the raccoon in your arms. "Come now.. It's getting late, we should probably head back to the express now." You nodded in agreement, the both of you already heading back. Dan Heng and you soon arrived back at the Astral Express.

Pom-Pom being the first to greet you. "Well well, it's nice to see you two are safe and sound. Everyone else is already asleep or in their rooms." They said, the front lobby was empty. The lights dimmed, showing that everyone was in fact in the passenger cabin already. "Did we stay out that late?" You muttered to yourself. "It seems so.."

You and Dan Heng then walked to the archives, opening the door to the small yet always comforting room. Dan Heng's makeshift bed on the floor as always with an extra pillow beside it for you. As mentioned before he had his nightmares more frequently, so you began sleeping over to keep him company. Dan Heng took off his coat as you set down your bag.

"Imma go change into my other clothes in my room real quick before we head to bed, okay Dan Heng?" He nodded before you left. Your bag rested in a chair in the archives. It was silent as Dan Heng waited for you to return before something cluttered and the sound of something moving around sounded. Dan Heng looked around for a bit before the sound came once,

Dan Heng's gaze then landed on your bag. It was moving... As much as he respected your privacy and hated the idea of going through your bag to see what you had in there, he reluctantly walked towards it. Pulling back the zipper and opening the bag to reveal... "You've got to be kidding me.." He sighed, the same raccoon from before stared at him.

A small cookie in its hand that it seemed to have through the packaging it was in."Okay, I'm back- Oh.." You've returned to see Dan Heng holding your bag with the raccoon's head sticking out of it, munching on the cookie. "Care to explain why you have an animal in your bag?" He spoke. His tone was unreadable, you couldn't tell if he was annoyed, angry, or just tired. Maybe a mixture of three...

"Well, you see uh- Funny story.." "Mhm, I bet this will be interesting." "Well uh- It looked hungry and since we were already going back to the express. I let it into my bag and gave it some cookies..." You explained, rubbing the back of your neck.

Dan Heng's gaze made you a bit nervous cause you didn't know how this would end. Either with a lecture about bringing animals onto the express or a lecture about randomly taking animals. The possibilities were endless at this point. Your lover sighed once more. "Was bringing it on the Astral Express also within your plan.?"

"I mean... If I asked permission to keep it as a pet maybe?" You shrugged. "You can't keep a raccoon as a pet." Dan Heng groaned. "Who says I can't keep Jimmy as a pet."

"You can't keep- I'm sorry... Did you just call the raccoon Jimmy..." Dan Heng froze at you suddenly naming the animal. "What's wrong with the name Jimmy?" You asked, placing your hands on your hips. "I can't believe you already named it.." Dan Heng rubbed his temples, your bag set down on the same chair it was on before.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just tired.." Dan Heng said, his posture was slowly slumping. You walked up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Take a rest, I'll handle the raccoon." "Are you sure, I could go with you-" "Yes. I'll only be gone for a while but in that while, you should be resting." Dan Heng was about to say something else, but seeing how you really wouldn't back down from this, he stopped himself.

"Alright then, be safe.. and don't bring any other animals from Jarilo- VI.." "Can't make any promises." You shrugged. It was a few minutes before you left, the small animal going with you. Dan Heng turned to one of the tablets for the database. To pass the time of your absence, he figured to list something in a locked data folder.20 minutes passed before the door to the archives opened, Dan Heng turned to see you standing triumphantly, your bag was empty.

"Ta-da! I have returned!" You cheer. "Well done.." Dan Heng gave a short nod, his hands closing off the data folder he was in. "Now after a rather long day, would you agree that some rest is needed, oh wise Master Dan Heng." You smile, Dan Heng had a bland expression on his face, unamused by the title. "Please be normal for once." He replied.

"Augh- You wound me so.." You joke, walking to cut off the lights. Dan Heng was already under the covers of his makeshift bed before you crawled beside him. His head was on your chest while he melted into you. "Good night sleepy head.."

"Good night {name}.."

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

Choose

Tav attempts to steal the orphic hammer, and things go very, very wrong. Raphael x Tav. Fucked up deals and impossible choices ahead. A little bit of horror, as a treat.

'I'm starving, darling, let me put my lips to something, let me wrap my teeth around the world.' - Eat Your Young, Hozier

‘Don’t do it,’ whispered a wretched shade, their eyes panicked and wide as deer.

‘The master will come home,’ said another, voice barely floating on the stifling heat. The opulence of the house swam and sparkled, sweat slid its uncomfortable fingers down Tav’s spine.

‘We need to leave, and soon,’ said Gale urgently. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, his hair plastered to his face.

‘I have to agree,’ said Astarion, who appeared to be panting.

‘Alright,’ said Tav. ‘We grab the hammer and leave. Karlach, you’re first line of defense. Get to the portal now, I’ll meet you there.’

‘No soldier, I’m not leaving you.’

‘He’s all bark. We all know that. I get the hammer, I run for the portal, we leave. That’s an order.’

Astarion narrowed his red eyes. ‘Darling, I hate taking orders. But you are our esteemed leader, so…’

‘This is not wise,’ added Gale, pointing a finger at her for emphasis. ‘Especially not in his own house. And with that incubus of his wandering around. I’m sure Haarlep holds no love but we should be careful all the same.’

‘Nobody accused me of wisdom,’ she said flatly. ‘Now go.’

They retreated reluctantly at first, then picked up the pace as the shades lifted their feeble voices in a flurry of fear. Turning her gaze to the grand doors to the archives, she took a breath of hot, sulphurous air that burned her throat, squared her shoulders, and walked in.

The archivist glanced at her, barely interested now he believed her to be one of the denizens of Avernus. As quickly as possible, she whispered the password, grasped the Orphic hammer in both hands, and pulled. It was heavier than she was expecting, and she staggered slightly before righting herself just in time to see everything catch fire.

‘Shit,’ she breathed. The house erupted in screams, the shades fleeing to nowhere as imps and other hellsbeasts descended, pouring through the corridors and chittering. Fire licked at her as she ran, swinging the hammer half blindly and exhaling as it connected with an imp. Sweat poured from her like she was melting, her heart pounding as her feet hit the ground hard. The fire was catching on her clothes, smoke pouring into her mouth and nose and stinging her eyes. She coughed, doubling over.

‘Tav?’ came Karlach’s voice from what felt like a very long way away. ‘TAV?!’

‘M’coming,’ she said, closing her eyes briefly. Her head was light, swimming. The tadpole seemed to sense danger and was squirming horribly behind her eye.

‘He’s here!’ said Gale in a voice so high pitched and panicked it terrified her.

‘We have to GO!’ shrieked Astarion.

Then in an instant, the smoke cleared, the fire vanished, and Tav collapsed to her knees, fighting the urge to vomit. ‘Guys?’ she called out. ‘Gale? Karlach? Are you there?’ Climbing to her feet, she glanced around. The archivist appeared to be gone, and small charred bodies littered the floor. The imps, she realised.

There was no response from her friends. Briefly she wondered if they’d simply gone silent so as to remain hidden, but some part of her felt their absence. The whole house was quiet now. The shades were cowering, and hers was the only living thing she could hear.

For the space of a dozen heartbeats, at least.

‘I tried to be fair to you.’ A spike of fear shot through her at the sound of Raphael’s voice; it was calm, measured, and deadly quiet. ‘A fair deal on the table. Something I pride myself on, in fact.’ He sounded closer with every word, but then he paused, apparently listening for something. ‘You’re the only mortal thing in this house, little mouse,’ he hissed. ‘I can hear your heart, I can smell your fear. Thief. Run from me, if you think you can. Or,’ he paused, his voice falsely sweet, ‘come crawling, beg my forgiveness and we can forget this ever happened… after a few decades of reeducation.’

Tav chose to run.

Straining her ears, she deduced he was somewhere to the left, so she crept right and fixed her eyes on the waters of the boudoir, trying to be as quiet as possible. ‘You must hate it,’ she heard herself say, her eyes widening in horror at her impulsiveness, ‘knowing that I stole from right under your nose. What are you going to do about it, huh Raphael? It’s not like you shouldn’t have seen this coming. After all, you’re so clever.’

He growled. She smiled to herself despite the danger she was in, glad to have humiliated him at least a little. She kept creeping forward, then realised the floor was beginning to shake. The soft steps she’d strained her ears for had changed, thumping into the tile with heavy finality. What the fuck?

She made it to the gate and slipped through, turning her eyes to Haarlep in a silent plea. He almost looked sad as he snapped his fingers, vanishing. She blinked in confusion, glancing around frantically for somewhere to hide.

‘Foolish girl,’ crooned Raphael quietly, voice dripping with menace. ‘You could have made this easy, maintained my goodwill, but now, my sweet little morsel, you’ll pay dearly for what you’ve done. I assure you of that.’

Kill him. The thought popped unbidden into her mind. Tav watched the water throw patterns on the walls, its depths tinged with blood. She weighed her decision for a moment before stepping in, sighing as the waters soothed her hurts and the heaviness in her limbs cleared. She felt strong suddenly, vital.

And she’d taken too long.

There in the doorway, wings unfurled to entirely block the exit, was the devil. Somehow, here, she realised just how small she was in comparison. He stalked forward, crooking a finger. ‘The hammer. Now.’ Her feet remained rooted. He sighed, exasperated, and walked to her instead. She barely came up to his chest, his wings reaching to fold her within. ‘I should kill you,’ he said. ‘But you’re such a pretty little thing.’

‘Let me go,’ she blurted out. ‘We didn’t- I didn’t mean- we only-’ she stammered. ‘We have to free him, we had no choice!’

‘No choices left, little mouse,’ he said. ‘You could have just signed the contract. You’d have the hammer by now, you’d have power, you’d be free, walking the streets of your precious Baldur’s Gate with your adorable little friends and your fragile dreams. But not now.’ One massive clawed hand closed around her wrist, prying the hammer from her grasp. ‘Now I’m afraid I must resort to more… unsavoury measures.’

‘Don’t kill me,’ she said. ‘Please don’t. Please.’

‘As sweet as your begging is, I’m not going to kill you. The punishment must fit the crime, after all, and death, while momentarily satisfying, hardly makes up for the mess you’ve made of things.’

Tav had read the scrolls concerning Hope. His grip was unyielding as he slid his other hand around her waist, drawing her forward in a mockery of dance, his wings at her back, yellow eyes glowing, burning into hers in the dim light. ‘You can’t,’ she said before thinking. He just laughed, the deep rumble of it shuddering through her whole body.

‘This is your deal,’ he whispered, lips pulling back to show his fangs. ‘I allow you to leave my house at some indeterminate point in the future, after I feel you’ve been suitably punished. You get to live the rest of your years under sun and sky, but your soul is mine. That or die. Those are your options.’

‘But-’

‘Choose,’ he hissed. The colour drained from her face. I want to live.

‘Deal,’ she said, the beginnings of a sob choked off by his mouth claiming her, body and soul.

Tags: @forget-me-maybe

@boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana @amorgansgal

@auroraesmeraldarose @aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard

@netherese0rb @crimson-and-lavender @reeseykins @medra-gonbites

@roguishcat @weaverofnetheril @galedekarioswifey @hyperfixationstation128 @lastlight-inn

@astarryvamp @feedthepheasants @dabigstinky @dreamingofthewild @ladyofcrowsandcoffee

[osakanone]

UPDATE: The Destiel/Supernats aren't taking this well -- explaining my reasoning for the history I gave, and why Destiel is not the big bitch of shipping that it thinks it is

An update to THIS:

"This is just a marketing thing, Gundam is a giant robot show, only men watch it!"

Gundam's fandom is silent majoratively feminine:

"But its not gay, its about giant robots!"

Gundam is very gay. The entire climax of the first story is a riff of Yukio Mishima lmao

The climax of the Amuro/Char arc of Universal Century Gundam (expounding from first Gundam circa 1979), Char's Counterattack is somewhat on the history of Japanese disillusion with liberalism which notably climaxed with the life and history of Yukio Mishima.

You know. THAT Yukio Mishima.

The one who wrote FORBIDDEN COLOURS.

It was so gay that the fanfiction inspired by it became its own damn anime:

And that's just Charmuro, let alone Charma or a billion other ships just in OG Gundam alone.

We've got This is before we get to Guin Sard Lineford and Yamagi Glimerton (both verrrrry gay), Tieria Erde (a genderqueer trans-coded character who transcends gender entirely in their arc) and a bunch of others.

Gundam was always gay.

"I don't see the numbers"

"That doesn't seem like much, Supernat is at least 2x this"

Sooooo the amount of content you do see isn't representative of how much even got written, given FFN had a huge content purge.

First, let's start with the relative proportion of users: If we're analysing the concept of fandom, we first have to look at who had access to the internet in the first place to publish works.

Yeah that's a pretty sizable difference.

Wing's fandom actually exploded in 2000, but got capped VERY early, distributing itself to fansites when FFN fragmented and collapsed.

Why?

Content purges!

"Isn't there some sort of online archive of this stuff?"

Sure, if you wanna dig through tons and tons of Angelfire and Geocities pages which have mostly disappeared. Otherwise, no! There is no archive of this stuff?

"Why?"

They've since rolled back on this but it means there's a massive amount of lost media out there, including the discussions on it and thus there's an entire history you didn't get to experience.

Its actually very difficult to reach people who've been involved, since it was so long ago that very few people remember, and a sizable proportion of that population have actually died.

"But what about SF fandoms? We have ancient records of stuff like Spirk!"

See unlike physical media like zines, when a server goes offline or there's a data-loss, or something like that there is no surviving copy of the thing in question.

The net result is we have this weird hole where content just vanished, and its now considered lost media. The work of many artists, designers, writers, even videos of events are just lost media because we didn't have the archival mentality adults develop.

You're not gonna hear about all the X-Files stuff or Frasier fanfictions or GW stuff because of these purges and the lack of physical media. FFN users were teens, not adults with resources like US/EU/JP SF fans, who had archival tendencies due to their long history.

So there is this supermassive black-hole in the history of fanfiction running between 1998, and 2008 and some of the only evidence of it are worksafe works and fansites which the owners have long since forgotten about because folks moved on. Moving on is a normal part of fandom.

So to those of you just saying "supernatural is losing to a pair of dumb anime girls" or "urgh this is just a trend tumblr will get over it and go back to supernatural"...

Uhhhhh no they won't, actually?

Supernat's fans mostly seem to be waspy Americans. Gundam is kind of a global phenomenon, one which has traditionally had a silent majority female audience, a vocal minority male audience -- and every time that majority has spoken up, its coincided with a content purge, or a TOS change that mysteriously biases American derived fiction over Japanese derived fiction.

Funny that.

tl;dr:

NATURE IS HEALING

[highlordofkrypton]

the bridges we mend, a tamlin x beron x elain fanfiction

You can read on AO3 or below the cut.

@praetorqueenreyna, this is your fault. Now, I'm committed.

SUMMARY: An alternate universe fic that takes place after Tamlin's family is murdered by another High Lord. Beron Vanserra has always kept an eye out for Tamlin; he has always been useful and entertaining. While he helps to rebuild the Spring Court, they welcome an unwelcome refugee from the human realm: Elain Archeron.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: There will be multiple chapters. There will be multiple variations of smut. It is a bit #yolo compared to my usual works. ENJOY!!

The rain hisses against his skin, wafts of smoke drifting into the air as it evaporates. Each step sears into the mud, fuels his rage, and it brings him closer to the culprit.

Idiot princeling. Stubborn beast, he thinks to himself.

His aura of anger grows until he is nothing than a storm of fire and steam.

No sentry bars his way. No magic repels him.

Beron whisps past the disfigured golden gates of the grand manor. It seems to droop under the weight of the rain—or is it under the weight of expectation? Of agony? With wave of his hand, he repairs it. His fire reshapes the metal and teaches it to burn bright, even in this darkness.

The front door is splintered; he finds problem after problem, but what he is looking for is not a problem. What is he looking for is—

A bottle clatter into the hall, its glass alerting him with its sharp sound. Behind it, a small creature pauses its efforts of rolling it away. It gives Beron a wide and slow blink before putting its hand-like paws on the bottle and going about its merry way.

"You," he orders the animal, as if he could communicate with a lesser creature. That was never his gift. "Halt."

The creature looks back over its shoulder and redoubles its efforts to escape.

It cannot—will not—get away with thievery in his presence. He has told the Spring son time and time againt that he is too soft to run this court. Even the wild things have free reign in his home.

Unacceptable.

Beron winnows towards the damned thing, cutting off its path into another room down the hall. It chirps, clutching onto the bottle and vanishes in a puff of pink smoke only to reappear further away. It gives the High Lord of the Autumn Court chase, all the way to its destination.

Blood stains the floor, and the bodies have been covered by a crimson-soaked bedsheet and half of the curtains. The new High Lord sits in the centre of the room, cradling a cold body to his chest. The tiny furry criminal hops over to Tamlin and offers him the bottle of water, but he does not take it.

Beron's heart catches in his chest. Mother, he loathes the discomfort of caring. He feels the bile of emotion roil in the pit of his belly, something more that allyship and a quick fuck. There is no time to address it. Another problem for another day.

"Fuck," Beron sighs, scrubbing his face and his auburn beard. "I told you to come to me."

He moves calmly across the room, kneeling before Tamlin and his lost ones. His touch is gentle, a rare offering, as he caresses Tamlin's cheek. This is what happens when power is thrust into the hands of someone too young and who does not want it.

I could have protected you, he yearns to say.

I have protected you, he nearly reprimands.

"I'll fix this. All of it."

***

The night keeps her secrets.

The rain hollows out her betrayal and masks the sounds of her feet pitter-pattering out the gates of her prison. A home where she is kept guarded, isolated and protected for her own good. Elain the kind. Elain the pure.

She is so unlike her sisters, they say.

So unlike Feyre, the adventurer who weaves fairytales out of nothing. So unlike Nesta, whose grace is as sharp as her mind. If one sister is brave, and the other is elegantly bold, then where does she fit? Where does she belong, the sister who is cursed to live in the middle?

Elain has been what her father needed, and what her sisters needed, never jostling any of them. Her part was to help where she could, and bottle her feelings deep inside where it was convenient. Her part was to marry into a household that would have her do nothing and be nothing for her safety.

The world is dangerous out there, they swore.

Stay within our eyesight, or you'll get hurt, they promised.

She doesn't know what to believe anymore, but one thing she knows is that she must see the world for herself. She dreams of a great odyssey, and even if there is pain along the way, she hopes that she will return—if she returns at all—with her heart full of wonder.

Elain clutches her dark cloak tightly and disappears into the forest. Broken branches and upturned rocks bite at her feet; her slippers are too thin, not made for a wanderer, but she pushes on. The ache is freeing and it reminds her that she has felt pain—

She has lost her mother, her father, her comfort, her peace—

She has lost enough, and yet she is here.

Once she gets far enough from the village that never quite felt like home, Elain pulls her hood back. The rain slips through the dark canopy of trees, dripping onto the curls of her hair and she laughs. It is a terrible idea to wander through the wilderness at night, but there is nothing more Elain wants than to do something terrible.

There is only one way to go: forward.

***

Beron leans against the side of the manor, huddled under one of the balconies to hide from the rain.

He has discarded his death-touched coat for one of Tamlin's. The shoulders droop; the younger Faerie had always been that much larger than him, much to his pleasure. The weight of his clothes, and its scent, is comforting no matter how much he loathes to admit it.

A cigarette burns between his fingers, also stolen from the Spring Lord. Its smoke fills his lungs with an easy focus; it helps him manage the anger until he can find a better way to expel the fury from his veins. He raises it to his lips, inhaling deeply, then releasing dark green wisps through his nose. It should burn, probably, but he is made of fire and there is not much that hurts him.

Lightning fractures the sky. No. Magic fractures the sky, its jagged slither diving towards where the Wall—the Wall separates the human and Faerie realms.

"Fuck," he laments, tossing the butt to the ground for it to return whence it came. He extinguishes it with a flick of his wrist.

Problem after problem. This is his own damned fault for caring.

[nightmareofthelake]

my podcasts

everyone who follows me is aware that I'm really into The Magnus Archives/Protocol but I never really talk about my other favourits.

So I decided to make a list of all the podcasts I currently listen to.

The Magnus Archives/The Magnus Protocol

this one does not need any introductions. I love the statements. I love the characters. I love everything about it 10/10

woe.begone ( @woebegonepod )

In a search for an interesting ARG, Mike Walters accidentally stumbles into a brutal real life game, known online as WOE.BEGONE. What begins as an exploration of the game turns into a search for the powerful technology that makes the game possible.

I started it this week and I'm in love with it. As someone who was really into ARGs a few years ago, this podcast really scratches a specific itch I didn't know I had. Also, the music is so good! Absolutely in love with it!

The Holmwood Foundation ( @theholmwoodfoundation )

A modern day sequel to the gothic novel Dracula, we follow Maddie Townsend (Rebecca Root) and Jeremy Larkin (Seán Carlsen), two co-workers at the Holmwood Foundation: a secret organisation that has been maintaining and studying the remains of Count Dracula over the last 130 years, as they are possessed by the ghosts of Jonathan and Mina Harker, and embark on a road trip across the country in an effort to achieve their ghost's wishes: stop Dracula once and for all. This is a story about identity and self discovery, family loyalty and devotion, all wrapped around a nightmare of a road trip with a rejuvenating severed head, incredibly sincere Victorian ghosts and an analogue recorder.

Only the pilot is currently out and the Kickstarter just started but I'm already in love with the characters thanks to the very active tumblr page. The pilot only deepened my love for them.

Malevolent

Arkham Private Investigator Arthur Lester wakes up with no memory of who he is or what has happened, only a nameless, eerie voice guiding him through the darkness. Blind, terrified, and confused, his journey will lead him towards a series of mysteries in the hopes of understanding the truth of what has transpired. As cosmic horrors seep into the world around, Arthur must ask himself whether this entity truly seeks to help him, or are its intentions more…

Harlan Guthrie is just amazing. His performances as literally every character is amazing. I really need to catch up.

The Gentleman from Hell

An entire town… gone. Without a trace. No signs, no warnings. Just silence. This is the story of Cold Sparrow. Twenty-four years ago, the peaceful town of Cold Sparrow became the center of one of the greatest unsolved mysteries in modern history. Every resident vanished. Among them, the enigmatic billionaire Benjamin Veers, whose strange ways made him an icon of intrigue. The town, once forgotten, now infamous. The questions? Endless. The answers? Nonexistent. For over two decades, investigators have been left baffled—cults, kidnappings, disappearances—none have led them closer to the truth. But now, three celebrated private investigators—famous for bringing down one of the most dangerous cults in history—have been called upon to tackle this mystery. Known for taking on the cases no one else could solve, they’re determined to uncover what really happened in Cold Sparrow. Yet, the deeper they dig, the darker the whispers become. Rumours swirl of something far more sinister than anyone ever imagined. Could the mystery of Cold Sparrow be tied to forces that reach far beyond our world? Could it be linked to something… infernal? Some mysteries, once uncovered, may be better left untouched. Cold Sparrow: A town that disappeared… but something still lingers in the shadows. The investigation begins… now.

Only a handful of episodes are out and they are all between 20 and 30 minutes long. The sound design is amazing. Love the characters so far and the story is really intriguing. Can't wait to see how the story unfolds.

Englewood After Dark ( @englewoodafterdark )

Englewood After Dark is a horror/drama podcast following the adventures of Finn Nightingale and Eve Pemberly as they uncover the many secrets lurking on the haunted campus of Englewood University.

As of right now only two episodes are out and I can't really say much about the plot but I like the characters enough to tune in every week. There are some hints about how the story might progress and I can't wait to be front-row witness of it's evolution.

This Paranormal Life

Every Tuesday, comedians Rory Powers and Kit Grier investigate a different paranormal case and find the truth inside the mystery. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

currently the only non-fiction podcast I listen to. I'm still trying to catch up (currently on episode 250 of almost 400) while also listening to every new episode on spotify and everything currently on patreon. Also, my favorite show to fall asleep to.

Podcasts I'm currently not actively listening too but still want to mention:

The Edge of Sleep

When a night watchman finishes his shift at work, he is terrified to discover that everyone in the world who went to sleep the previous night has died.

The podcast that made me fall in love with audio dramas. It's not perfect but I still like and can't wait for season 2 to finally come out (if it ever comes out). Also Mark has such nice voice it's almost criminal.

Welcome to Night Vale

WELCOME TO NIGHT VALE is a twice-monthly podcast in the style of community updates for the small desert town of Night Vale, featuring local weather, news, announcements from the Sheriff's Secret Police, mysterious lights in the night sky, dark hooded figures with unknowable powers, and cultural events. Turn on your radio and hide.

It's just an ongoing on-off relationship between me and this podcast. I love it don't get me wrong but sometimes I just need a break from it. Also I still need to read the novels that have been collecting dust since last year

(the list might get longer over time since I have a shit tone of podcasts I still have to try and some others I might give another try. I will reblog it once I add something new)

[lets-try-some-writing]

Heya! Hope you're doing well <3

So I have a world building question that I've been curious about for a while now, and I hope you're interested in answering; what would Cybertronian literature be like? Would they have fictional stories, or would it mostly be history texts and such?

If they did have fictional stories, I doubt they would have many, if any, romance books since they're obviously not a romantic species like humans. Would superhero stories with outliers be a thing? (Can't remember if outliers are viewed as bad or not). Would fantasy stories with like, Predacons be popular or would they be frowned upon with some mechs because of their history with them? (Looking at you, Kup and Autoway)

Hm, I wonder if stories with organic aliens would be a hit or not...

Considering how well Cybertron was doing before the war, I'd imagine their fiction stories weren't at the level and/or had the amount that are on Earth. Or would it have nothing to do with the state of Cybertron and more with that it was scoffed at?

My brain is just going wild with all the ways that this could turn out, but what I really, really want to know if they have fanfiction. Wait, would Orion write fanfiction??!! Dammit, Orion fangirling over a character has taken root in my brain

That wraps that whirlwind of an ask. Don't forget to not overwork yourself and stay hydrated! ❤️

Lore time?!?! Fantastic. So sorry its been *counts fingers* three to four months??? The writing vibe has been very picky as of late. Doing my best over here to answer asks from months back o(￣┰￣*)ゞ

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Literature on Cybertron is a curious thing. Culture varies wildly from city to city, but due to governmental influence everywhere, a large portion of the consumable literature on the datanet follows a certain structure. Information is highly controlled, and thus, only literature that supports or otherwise agrees with the government is allowed to exist on any public platform. Things that do not conform with the regulations put down are deleted immediately. Thus the literature that is deemed "safe" is often bland, preachy, or straight up propaganda. While Cybertron's population may have tolerated the Council due to a lack of fighting capability at the time, they also weren't fools. Not a spark enjoyed the aft kissing works produced by those who couldn't be bothered to be original.

Thus the underbelly of literature came into being, a hidden series of trade networks and secret websites created to keep the quality writing safe from the Council. Most of the hidden works consisted of data from all over the planet, the things that the Council kept hidden. Police reports, body cam videos, documents, records, trade reports, incident reports, historical documents struck from the records, information on mecha who "vanished", and so much more. Everything one could ever want information was was down there in the dark parts of the datanet. Such things always came with a price attached.

If one wanted data, it needed to be paid for. Shanix was too easy to track, and so instead information was traded. Data for data, knowledge for knowledge. It was in the darker parts of the datanet that the Archives collected much of their... more confidential information. Alpha Trion never tolerated the loss of critical information and there were whole groups under his control dedicated to collecting what he wanted from those who possessed the knowledge. There were entire wars online when it came to data, some that even resulted in doxing and death. The world was dangerous, and with the Council hunting for any and all information, literature was a prized resource reserved for those with the ability to trade for it. Orion and Soundwave both were very well oriented with the trading performed on the datanet. They were well known under their online tags and both maintained very active information broking circles up until the war began. Even then, both managed to keep weaseling data out of their sources up until Cybertron went dark.

Then of course there was the less professional corners of the darker parts of the datanet. Works of fiction were by no means unusual, but they were only produced by mecha with certain... tastes. Most were not lacking in imagination, but rather the ability to make their visions legible. The ability to properly produce a work of fiction was, more often than not, difficult for the average mech to do. Most works of fiction came from the middle castes or the upper lower castes. Higher caste bots were not allowed to write anything serious for fear of backlash, and the lower castes simply did not have the time more often than not. As such, only the highly biased middle castes had any ability to produce fiction at all.

Sci-fi did not exist as a genre, for quite obvious reasons. More often than not, what fiction came into being tended to fall into several categories which matched the desires of the middle castes. Courtly drama was a world renown and beloved genre. Every mech ran into a work in the genre at least once, and the themes usually revolved around the main character either climbing the social ladder to get into the higher castes or somehow evading their hold to achieve something. It was wish fulfillment at its finest, but the middle castes adored the genre as it satisfied the desires they had. Ratchet wrote one surprisingly well performing novel about climbing the ladder to become CMO. It was based off his own experiences, and while not exactly popular, medics everywhere all universally knew of his novel, although not a spark knew he wrote it.

The second biggest genre was rather specific, and it happened to be the caste change genre. Every bot wished they were something else for the most part. As such, there was a plethora of documents that focused around a mech from one caste either moving up or down the chain and having to adapt to the new way of life. The cultural differences around Cybertron played their part in the caste change genre as mecha from all over the planet learned from and wrote their novels. Many serious misconceptions came from the novels of that type, but it tended to create a sense of tolerance amongst the population more often than not. Even still, there were more than a few crimes committed due to rather ridiculous misunderstandings regarding local culture from individuals who only learned from novels. While not common knowledge, Starscream wrote an incredibly well received novel with completely made up cultural norms for Vos that were so widely accepted that grounders everywhere got arrested en mass until the government stepped in. Starscream has yet to stop finding it amusing.

The third most popular genre was the only one the lower castes could feasibly relate to, and it happened to be about police and murder mystery. The stories had no set formula, unlike the prior two popular genres. However they almost always involved the main character eliminating some scum of the Earth, uncovering a deep dark secret, or putting an end to a horrific criminal underworld. It was pure wish fulfillment from middle caste mecha who knew just enough to want to change things, but didn't have the guts to actually go out and take a stand. Jazz wrote his fair share of novels relating to the subject, one of which became so popular that he ended up changing his identity twice and faked his death once in order to escape any connection to it. He didn't learn until vorns later that his novel, which was based on a real mystery, had actually solved a well covered Council kept secret.

Lastly there was the religiously oriented works of fiction. The genre itself was incredibly niche due to the differing beliefs and delicate nature of faith on Cybertron. But the few who wrote for the subject were masters of their craft. Usually they were artist renditions of old tales, retellings of myth and legend, or even fictional takes on the lives of old Primes. Highly heretical in nature, very few stepped into the genre of Primacy related anything. The Council was always on the lookout for such novels, and thus those who wrote them were far more likely to vanish under mysterious circumstances. What novels were written often didn't last long. The only three novels that made it out alive amidst the harsh censoring happened to be a set of novels written by Orion Pax in collaboration with Senator Shockwave and a novel done by none other than D-16 himself. The three novels all showed urban legends and tales from all three castes and were beloved globally, even if every physical copy was destroyed on sight.

Orion, and later Optimus Prime largely forgot about his written work. Unbeknownst to him, Megatron has kept a copy of his work and the two other novels. He has no clue Optimus and Shockwave wrote them, but he adores them and have lovingly gone into English teacher mode more times than one could count to find the deeper meaning behind everything. Humanity's love for 1984, To Kill a Mockingbird, and Dante's Inferno is the level of adoration Megatron holds for the three novels on his shelf.

There were other stories of course. Fantasy novels set far into Cybertron's distant past made purely off imagination and globally mocked by those who lived long enough to see the early days of Cybertron. A genre akin to Romance that focused on companionship and starcrossed designs put in place by Primus. Strange tales made by those on Colony worlds going into depth on organics and their cultures. Heroic stories focusing around Primus's chosen and champions of the people. Underdog tales with Outliers coming out of hiding or breaking their bonds to be free and express themselves as they saw fit...

The stories were diverse, but all were hidden. Every mech read them, but none spoke of them aloud. Literature was the quiet universal culture of Cybertron prior to the war.

[suppose-i-was-worm]

Like the Beat of a Drum pt 2

**I'm not entirely happy about this, and have NO clue where it's going next, but we'll see!**

The Red Hood clocked Danny as not all he seemed as soon as they were alone together. After some negotiation (Danny threatening to vanish into thin air and Hood threatening to tell Red Robin), they came to a consensus.

Danny would be in human form unless one of the other bats were around, and Hood would keep his big mouth shut.

“No spooky supernatural stuff in my borough, kid.”

Danny decided not to tell the other man that he himself had a fair bit of spooky supernatural stuff going on.

He should probably keep an eye on that- Corrupted ectoplasm was never a good thing, and Red Hood was crawling with it.

Living in Crime Alley was easy. Hood had put him up in a dingy little apartment, fully stocked with anything he might need- and no surveillance equipment. Danny had checked. He spent his time while he finished the healing process taking the toaster apart. And the microwave.

Hood visited while he was arms deep in the oven and put a kibosh on larger appliances, but he started bringing small broken appliances around for Danny to fix. It was nice, having another undead hanging around. Someone who understood the constant itch under Danny’s skin to keep moving, keep working, keep reminding himself he was alive.

He even was finally able to see his soulmark! It was a name, somebody called Timothy Drake-Wayne. Hood had seen it and made some sort of choking noise, and when Danny asked, he was told that Drake-Wayne was publicly markless. Weird.

Danny was pleased that the wounds to the area had healed completely though, not marring the text at all.

The wound on his chest, not so much. It stood out, inflamed and sore against his otherwise pale chest. Its presence reminded him a little of the lichtenberg scars that crawled down his arms in his ghost form.

Maybe the Drs. Fenton had somehow killed him again, and now he was a halfa twice over? This was his penance, he supposed, for trusting them after everything.

~~~

Tim’s favorite coffee shop was packed, save for one table with a lone occupant. Once he’d gotten his deathwish coffee, he made his way over to the table.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I-“

The table’s occupant, a young man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, nodded toward the other chair before Tim could finish his sentence.

“Feel free, man. It’s a busy day today.”

Tim couldn’t help but wonder where he’d seen the other before- his face was familiar in a strange way, and he felt- he felt surprisingly attracted.

His soulmate heartbeat thing had been unusually quiet since the night Phantom arrived, whereas before it sounded loud and clear in his head at least a few times a day and long into the night.

He was allowed to talk to cute people while his soulmate was still young, right?

“Spend a lot of time here?”

The stranger shrugged.

“Here and there. Haven’t run into you before, which I think I would have noticed. I’m Danny, by the way.”

Tim didn’t think much of the name. This young man was far too old to be his Daniel.

“Nice to meet you, Danny. I’m Tim.”

He reached out a hand, and Danny shook it firmly, giving him an odd look that quickly passed.

The two of them sat and chatted for a while, and Tim found himself wondering how he’d missed this person around Gotham- he was well spoken with a soft accent, whip smart, and gorgeous.

Tim’s watch buzzed, reminding him he had a meeting- he could have sworn he had two hours between his coffee run and his meeting, but perhaps he’d been chatting too long.

“Shit! I have to go- it was nice meeting you!”

He chugged the rest of his now-cold coffee and darted out of the coffee shop.

It wasn’t until after the shareholder’s meeting that he realized he hadn’t asked for Danny’s number.

~~~

“Hood!”

Jason looked up from his desk as his office door was flung open, and then watched in amusement as Danny scrambled out of the grasp of the goon trying to pull him away.

“Sorry Boss, he slipped by us! I’ll- OW! He bites!”

“Stand down, Marcus, he’s a friend. Head over to medical if you need to- the little shit’s feral.”

Grumbling, the goon let go of a smug looking Danny and made his way to the other door while Danny swanned into the office and made himself comfortable on Hood’s guest chairs.

“How did you find this place?”

Shrugging, the kid pretended to inspect his nails.

“You know, just followed the scent of daddy issues and rancid ectoplasm- not hard. Didn’t peg you for the office type, though.”

Jason leaned back, crossing his arms.

“What do you want.”

“Timothy Drake-Wayne is Red Robin, yes?”

Trying to keep his posture casual and unconcerned, Jason tilted his head.

“What makes you say that?”

“I met a guy named Tim at the coffee shop and he’s got the same ghosts as Red Robin.”

Danny slapped a newspaper down on the desk between them- the cover page was Tim, looking very CEO and businesslike.

Jason was pretty sure Tim and Danny would get along like a house on fire, if Danny had already figured him out.

“Also, I felt his heartbeat when we shook hands and it matches the beat of my soul.”

Pausing, Jason parsed the information he now had about Danny.

“Wait, you can see ghosts that follow people?”

“You can’t?”

Jason stared incredulously at Danny for a few beats, and then the younger man sighed.

“Right. Your ecto is all screwy. Remind me to fix that. Yeah, I see ghosts attached to people- not everyone has them, and not all of the ghosts are actually, you know, dead people, but yeah. I don’t normally think about them because they’re everywhere, but same ghosts often equal same person.”

Danny slumped further into the chair after he finished talking, letting out a small whine.

“What now?”

“Jason, he’s cute.”

With a sigh, Jason pointed over at the newest handful of appliances he needed Danny to fix for the residents of Crime Alley.

“Take that and get out of my office.”

~~~

“Timberly~”

Tim sighed and let his pen drop- if Jason was here and looking for him, he probably wouldn’t get much work done. Not that he was getting work done now- balancing a pen on his nose wasn’t really work.

Jason rounded the batcomputer, idly tossing his helmet from one hand to another, a massive grin stretching across his face. It was a scheming face, a face that said he knew something Tim didn’t, and Tim hated not knowing things.

“What.”

Jason’s grin stretched wider.

“You’ve been keeping secrets!”

With a sigh, Tim turned his attention to the computer. Of course he kept secrets- the entire family had secrets. Hell, the secrets that the entire family kept probably also kept secrets.

Undeterred, Jason shoved his head (read: his entire upper body) in between Tim and the computer.

“So, where is it?”

Tim raised an eyebrow at the other man, hoping he looked as judgmental as he felt.

“Where is what, Jason? My spleen?”

The grin on Jason’s face faltered for a moment before returning with full force.

“Your soulmark!”

The weights Dick had been working with in the training area hit the floor with a loud thump, and Tim could only assume their oldest brother was storming over to berate Jason.

“Jason!”

Heh. He was right.

Jason pulled away, grabbing the arm of Tim’s chair and dragging him along to be a human shield as Dick approached.

“Nu-uh, Dickie- I’ve got good info, here. Timmy has been hiding his entire soul from us!”

Tim would like it to go on record that he hated everything, everyone, and especially Jason. He tuned out Dick’s raised voice and Jason’s responses, trying to figure out how the other could have found out.

He almost always kept the patch on- it’s not like a civilian camera could have caught him without. Even when he took the patch off to wash or to tend a nearby wound, he made sure to do it in his Nest without any recording devices nearby.

The only way Jason could have- Maybe he’d met Daniel and seen Tim’s name? Some poor kid down in Crime Alley? A four year old at best. Eurgh.

He tuned back into the still heated conversation.

“-kindness isn’t hard Jason, and you can’t just use the excuse that we’re siblings to bully Tim for being markless! I never thought you had it in you, you-“

“It’s under my sternum. How’d you find out?”

Dick’s tirade stopped short as Tim answered, his mouth dropping open comically. Jason pumped his fist triumphantly.

“You handed him to me on a silver platter, Timbo.”

Tim did not gape, that would be unbecoming and Janet Drake would never allow a son of hers to be unbecoming.

“I’m sorry?”

Jason grinned, an evil, evil grin.

“Daniel Fenton. You gave his case to me.”

“Case?”

Dick’s voice was high and reedy, and Tim looked over to see that he was looking distressed and probably a little faint.

Jason snickered. Rude.

“I do not have a case for my soulmate.”

Jason snickered again, and pointed at the batcomputer.

“Then what’s that?”

Both Dick and Tim turned to look- it was just the file on Phantom- but by the time they turned around again, Jason was roaring out of the cave on his bike.

Tim flipped him off, just because he could.

Dick collected himself before Tim did, whirling to face him and yanking Tim’s shirt up before desperately scraping at the bare skin, trying to find the patch.

With a sigh, Tim pushed Dick’s searching hands away and peeled off the patch himself.

He felt bare without it- completely exposed to his brother’s sharp eyes.

“You never told anyone?”

Shrugging, Tim slapped the patch back on, pulled his shirt down, and turned back to the batcomputer.

“Came in late- didn’t want some poor kid to get saddled with me.”

By the hitch in Dick’s breathing, Tim could tell the older man was about to get sentimental on him, or berate him for talking bad about himself.

This day couldn’t get much worse, could it?

The Arkham escape alarm sounded from both boys’ phones, and Tim sighed yet again. Way to jinx himself.

~~~

Phantom floated invisibly above the Red Hood, filtering away the ectoplasm that rolled off of him in waves as he stood with the other bats.

“Nightwing and Robin, you’re looking for the Joker.”

The ectoplasm spiked at Batman’s growl, and Danny sighed soundlessly. Keeping Jason away from his vengeance was not the right way to go about things.

“You want another dead Robin if they find him?”

“I do not want a dead Joker, Hood, and I know there will be one if I let you after him.”

Red Hood crossed his arms with a snarl, and Phantom settled closer to the man’s shoulders, keeping a steady wave of calm floating from his core.

The beat of his soul was pounding with excitement, and he took a moment to glance over at Red Robin, who was glaring in Red Hood’s direction. Danny couldn’t begin to fathom why.

Once the bats scattered, Phantom brought his head closer to Hood’s. The older boy was muttering mutinously under his helmet.

“What if we found him first?”

Hood’s head shot up to look in Danny’s direction.

“I could help, and then we could go home and finish Jenga.”

“Help do what?”

Danny dropped his invisibility long enough to flash Jason a grin.

“Payback.”

~~~

Red Robin and Spoiler crashed into a warehouse, weapons at the ready, only to find half the rogues they were looking for tied up and watching a fight going on in the center of the room. Tim’s heart was beating a mile-a-minute with adrenaline, and so was his second heartbeat. He had been rushing to find the Joker at least, especially after Red Hood went off comms.

It took him a minute to identify the people in the fight, if it could really be called that. From what he could tell, it was a mostly unilateral beat-down of the Joker by Phantom.

“What the fuck.”

Stephanie was watching with wide eyes from his side, and Tim caught a glance of Jason watching from the other side of the warehouse, helmet off and a green glow about his face.

“We need to get to Hood and make sure he doesn’t do anything.”

Spoiler nodded, but before she could move, a shadow shifted next to Hood and Black Bat slipped from the shadows, putting a hand on the man’s arm. Hood turned his head in her direction, nodded, and then went back to watching the show.

Black Bat stepped away, seeming satisfied with Jason’s response.

Phantom smacked Joker with a backhand slap loud enough to startle Tim, and the psychopathic man went flying back into the wall, crumpling into a heap at the base.

Tim watched as Phantom floated over to Hood, chest heaving despite no sounds of breathing.

“Are you Avenged, Bat of Gotham? Feel it in your Core.”

The greenish glow to Jason’s face flickered and then floated up and away from his face, dispersing in a thin mist.

“I am Avenged, Phantom.”

Phantom landed with a smile.

“See? Killing him wasn’t necessary- just a little beatdown.”

The second heartbeat in Tim’s sternum began to slow as Phantom held out a hand to Red Hood.

Jason took it and shook, smiling grimly.

“Red Robin?”

Spoiler was at his shoulder, but Tim couldn’t tear his eyes away from Phantom’s face.

“Red, we need to get Joker to the hospital.”

Black Bat moved from beside Jason and punched Tim on the shoulder.

“Ask him out.”

Tim startled.

“I- what?”

She made the sign for soulmate discreetly, and Tim felt his face flush. Phantom couldn’t possibly- but then he thought about Jason’s cryptic wording about Tim’s soulmate the other day.

Surely not. Surely.