#cadaver screaming about things

[c-a-d-a-v-e-rr]

Alright guys I feel like an evil fucking wizard so here's 30 pictures of Neil Cicierega that you probably haven't seen. Have fun.

[see-arcane]

So. What was the deal with the vampire in the graveyard versus Orlok’s Nosferatuing around?

SPOILERS INCOMING CLOSE YOUR EYES AND SCROLL AWAY

Von Franz mentions something vague about there being different rules depending on the region with the whole ‘sleep by daylight’ thing being the only consistent rule…

…except that doesn’t add up with what Thomas saw.

He followed the hunting party at night. He saw them open the coffin with the vampire still resting in it, cue the iron stake piercing him, the blood, the scream, Thomas’ startled cry—and then an immediate cut to him coming awake in the inn’s bed, now wearing a cross at his neck (which he tosses) and mud on his boots (proof of his excursion). He saw what he saw.

How did that vampire in the graveyard come to be? Was he one of Orlok’s making? Or was he never Nosferatu at all? Von Franz refers to Nosferatu exclusively as a type of undead that brings plague. That does seem to be Orlok’s gimmick, but the guy in the graveyard had no rats for company. The people Thomas encountered were out and about, hale and healthy, no fretting over plague. So what was he?

I might have misheard, but I think there was a moment as Thomas entered the inn for the first time where the woman doing an exorcism/healing rite involving garlic mentioned the word strigoi. It didn’t pop up in her subtitles, so I won’t swear to it, but it’d be interesting if Eggers went digging around in the Dracula and other vampire lit lore to fish out other variants of vampirism to play with.

But the thing is.

The thing is.

While it would be a good Easter egg hint that Thomas’ notion of hunting Orlok down and staking him in his big rat box was doomed to fail~, it would only add up if we’d gotten concrete on-film evidence that he was really mistaking one kind of vampire for another. All we have is Von Franz’ word that ‘he doubts it will work.’ Thomas, meanwhile, has seen it work and has the memory of Orlok snapping awake and actively stopping him from bringing the pickaxe down on him—if being impaled did nothing, why would Orlok bother to stop the blow?

It leaves the possibilities split down the middle.

Version A: Von Franz was right. Orlok the Nosferatu needed the Death-By-Maiden-and-Sunrise trap to be destroyed and what Thomas saw was an entirely different vampire being slain by its own methods. Potentially a vampire made by Orlok, but not a full Nosferatu plague carrier (possibly something that needs Scholomance study), or else turned by completely unrelated means. tl;dr: Thomas Staking Orlok Would Have Failed

Version B: Thomas was right. Had he been able to stake Orlok through, he might have put him down, or at least left him weak enough for them to bring on blades and fire to make sure nothing was left. Chuck the leftovers in a river for good measure. And Ellen would never have had to die.

Naturally, the latter isn’t as cinematic or thematically satisfying. It isn’t as meaty as Version A. But I can’t help picturing Thomas turning the what-ifs over and over in his head. What if he had been faster with the pickaxe? What if Von Franz hadn’t stalled them past sunset and they had found Orlok still in his box rather than Knock? What if Ellen could have been here and alive and safe if only he hadn’t been too slow, too late, too trusting?

What if…

What if both men were wrong?

Or at least failed to see the entire picture. To really wonder at the how and why of Thomas’ affliction being so different compared to every other non-Ellen victim of Orlok’s. To wonder just what Orlok intended by his drinking of Ellen as consummation by consumption. Surely he did not intend to kill her. Rather, to let her remain dead.

(The broker yet lives.)

((As a man.))

(This is no ordinary plague!)

((Plagues.))

Orlok was a cadaver who lived. The undead must first be dead. Is it not so for every form of vampire, no matter their region?

Ellen is dead. The Maiden become Death.

(He left you to the wolves yet you prevailed!)

((The wolves only came for him by daylight. When sleep ended and Thomas’ heart still beat. The work unfinished.))

Von Franz departs, head hung. Dr. Sievers will stall the formalities of the mortuary. There are dead enough to busy himself with. Let the boy grieve.

Let him think.

Of corpses that are not corpses. Death that does not stick. The sun moves between blinks as he banishes the shriveled carcass of the Count from the room, breaking and burning it.

His love is dressed anew. Clean, for she was never unclean.

(Her breast.)

((There is no bite.))

The sun sinks. Thomas holds a cold hand. Now it grips his back, their wedding bands gleaming. As she kisses his breast, he thinks perhaps it is not so terrible to be mistaken, all told.

They can be wrong together.

[floral-and-fine]

Have My Heart

Enver Gortash x Fem Durge Reader

Summary: y/n wakes in Enver’s bed and finds herself covered in blood as well as parts of the room, but she is unable to recall what happened and assumes the worst.

A/n: Thank you @bhaalbust for all the suggestions and help with this fic! Really made a difference❤️ if I write any more bg3 fanfic it’ll probably be for other characters that you can’t romance in the game. Enjoy!

Warnings: Durge related violence and content and lemon

Y/n sighed in her sleep, her body was heavy but her mind was oddly at peace, lost in a dream of being elbow-deep in the guts of a cadaver, their insides still warm and fresh. She could practically feel blood splatter on her face as she pulled them apart, fingers wrapping around soft organs and squeezing. Her lips tugged upward in a giddy smile, allowing the wave of ecstasy and satisfaction to wash over her as she admired her work. The faceless victim, with dead eyes and a slack jaw, laid beneath her, y/n could almost still hear their screams ringing in her ears.

Rolling onto her side, she hummed appreciatively recognizing her favorite scents surrounding her, blood and… Enver’s cologne. It was a dark and smoky fragrance that encapsulated power. Without giving it much thought, she buried her face further into the pillow breathing in deeply.

Her fantasies shifted from a scene of gore to one of lust and passion with her lover. Enver’s bare body was pressed against hers, the only thing he was still wearing was his gauntlet. The cold metal tickled her cheek as his fingers pushed back a few stray hairs from her face.

She could feel his tongue leaving a trail of saliva as it swept over her sternum, up the mound of her breast, and then teased her nipple, his teeth playfully nipping and tugging at it. His warm wet mouth ventured higher, arriving at the tender flesh between her neck and shoulder, without hesitation he bit her, hard, mercilessly, teeth bruising her skin before they punctured through drawing blood. Y/n gasped at the sudden pain, her back arching off the bed, followed by a low moan. Enver chuckled, nuzzling his nose against hers before he kissed her with her blood still on his lips.

She never knew what to expect from him, he seamlessly could go from tender and loving to harsh and devious and back again. And she loved it, it kept her on her toes, constantly anticipating what he’d do next, wondering whether he would bestow upon her more pleasure or more pain.

Enver sat up on his knees between her thighs, his eyes roaming over her body with a look of ownership as he placed his hand by her throat. The sharp tips of his gauntlet on his thumb and middle finger traced her collarbone.

Y/n bit her lip, peering up at him to see the smug expression on his face. It was no secret how much it pleased him, the control he had over her: his assassin, his partner, his lover.

This was an unforeseen affair, to say the least. She never expected that anything could come between her murderous desires and depraved thoughts, but here she was dreaming about him instead of murder.

Enver’s other hand adjusted her thigh, in order to position his cock between her folds, his fingers curled around her neck. As he slowly entered her, he simultaneously applied pressure to her throat to match his pace. He groaned as he bottomed out, fully sheathed within her. He was still for a moment before he began to move his hips.

Y/n’s hand gripped his wrist as he fucked her faster and choked her harder. Through blurry vision, she gazed at the man she adored. The one who had accepted her in a way that she never believed was impossible. He appreciated her efforts and self-control, validated her work, and trusted her.

Gods, she loves him.

Y/n moaned shamelessly, her eyes were still shut, but her body was now very much awake, she reached a hand out in search of her lover, only to find his side of the bed empty.

It was then as if a switch had suddenly been flipped, snapping y/n out of her dreams. She immediately sat up, eyes wide as it dawned on her that this place, his home, shouldn’t reek of blood and death. Her eyes darted around the room, streaks of red painted the walls and bed sheets. Bloody footprints stained the carpet, and her hands and hair were covered in dried blood.

Had she finally done it? Her worst nightmare fulfilled?

Everything went quiet as she sat alone with her racing thoughts. Y/n had been so careful, she was killing in droves, slaughtering men, women, and children to satiate her urge and protect Enver from herself. But was it still not enough?

She felt sick to her stomach.

It was unfortunate how being chosen left her with no choice, or at least it felt that way. Compelled almost every moment to do her father’s bidding, plagued by thoughts that all led to violence.

It was only a matter of time before this alliance would fail, that one would betray the other, but still y/n had hoped that they would’ve been able to accomplish their plans, and even more so she had hoped that this partnership would’ve lasted longer, much longer.

…

Enver rubbed his tired eyes and stared at the presumably romantic gesture that y/n had left for him at the bottom of the staircase in the center of the foyer. It was a graphic arrangement of bloody limbs and intestines in the shape of a heart. He tightened the belt of his silk robe as he circled around his surprise gift while admiring his lover’s twisted handy work.

At the tip of the heart were clasped hands, obviously belonging to different victims, that had been roughly amputated according to the jagged edges. He could only assume that that was part of her loving message, perhaps something along the lines of staying together even when being torn apart, but that was all speculation, he wasn’t what one would call well-versed in her uniquely violent language.

Gifts and surprises like this weren’t an entirely new occurrence, he had previously awoken to find similar presents such as human hearts tied together with ribbons sitting on his nightstand or strange yet sweet messages scrawled in blood on his bedroom window. But this was by far the most extravagant declaration of affection to date.

He lifted his brow, noticing the trail composed of severed ears, fingers, and toes. He figured rose petals would’ve been far too cliché for his little killer.

Now where did they lead to, exactly?

Enver followed the path, careful not to step on any unpleasant bits of flesh with his bare feet. Perhaps he should make a habit of putting slippers on before leaving his room if this becomes a regular thing.

Arriving at his study, he came face to face with 3 heads impaled on spikes, proudly mounted over the fireplace. It only took Enver a moment to recognize the lifeless faces, they were his competitors, former black-market weapon dealers like himself.

A small part of him was a bit envious that they had met their end without him present, that he had no say in how to prolong their torture, and that they didn’t die knowing that he was the reason behind it. Of course, this was nothing he couldn’t get over, he knew that y/n made the bastards suffer before ending them, but still if it had been anyone other than his bhaalspawn interfering with his meticulous plans he’d probably have them killed or severely punished already.

“Well gentlemen, I’m sure the three of you were just as surprised as myself by this outcome,” Enver announced to the heads decorating the mantle. “But we all knew one way or another that I was always going to come out on top.”

He smirked to himself, filled with a sense of gratification, aware that his lover did this for him. It was a different sort of pleasure compared to when he’d send y/n to kill, she did this unprompted and it was that much more meaningful.

Perhaps later she’d give him all the gory details. Y/n was always eager to relive her kills with him. Typically she’d return from an assassination and immediately start filling him in while stripping out of her clothes right before straddling his lap. This was definitely a beneficial aspect of their relationship, that she got off on murder while he got off on power and control.

“You’re alright,” y/n murmured from the doorway, seeing Enver standing there in his black silk robe, his back turned to her as he stared at the heads on display, it was a beautiful sight, better than all the gore and horror she saw on the way here, which in actuality brought her no joy and only added to her panic.

“Hm, oh yes, I’m fine,” he started, eyes still focused on the severed heads. “can’t say the same for these fellows… seems they met a grisly fate at your hand. Impressive work as always.”

She stifled a sob that immediately drew Enver’s attention. A combination of emotions that she had been fighting had worked their way to the surface, relief, fear, guilt, but mostly just she was just grateful, grateful that he was unharmed.

“I thought- I thought I killed you,” y/n confessed.

He lifted a brow, unfamiliar with the sight of seeing her so shaken. The typical cold analytical look in his eyes was gone and replaced with concern. “Probably just a bad dream,” he said in an attempt to be sympathetic.

Y/n shook your head, “I don’t remember these killings.” She gestured to the unfamiliar faces behind him. “I must have killed them while blacked out, but I shouldn’t have, I’ve been slaughtering and maiming all over the city.”

She took a deep breath. “I must have killed them because I can’t kill you, I won’t kill you, despite the urge compelling me to,” she explained.

His gaze fell upon her, studying her in such a vulnerable yet wild state, naked, eyes bloodshot, hair knotted, dried blood staining her arms and legs, but she was still beautiful in a dangerous sort of way.

“Have you considered that these unconscious killings aren’t a tribute to your god but rather for me?” He asked. “Or do you typically create heart-shaped atrocities for Bhaal?”

It was practically inconceivable that such a perfect and powerful specimen would love him to such a degree that she’d choose him over her god and rebel against her very nature for him. All this blood and gore was a testament to how much she cared. Y/n was truly his.

“For weeks now you’ve been leaving me unconventional gifts and love notes,” Enver explained further. “Do you remember any of them?”

“No,” she whispered.

He smirked moving closer to her, “You subconsciously killed 3 of my biggest competitors and brought me their heads, it’s quite thoughtful in a way, a wonderful present.”

Enver tilted y/n’s head up, his lips lightly kissing along her jaw. “Thank you,” he whispered into her ear.

She closed your eyes as he cupped her cheek, the familiar touch of his fingers stroking her skin had a calming effect. Y/n leaned into his hand, taking in the warmth of it.

“Don’t worry about the mess, I’ll get someone to take care of that. But first,” he said. “Let’s get a bath ready.”

There was comfort in knowing he’d take care of everything including herself. Life as a Bhaalspawn was lonely. Any sort of friendship or family ended in death or abandonment. The only people with whom she interacted were Bhaal’s followers and her butler, Scerleritas Fel. She was honestly scared that she was going to be alone again.

It was so nice having someone who wanted more from her than murder, who saw that she was capable of more, capable of being a partner and a contributor.

She opened her eyes and placed her hand over his, giving her love a rare genuine smile, it was almost sweet if she wasn’t also looking like a wild animal.

Y/n slipped past him and moved towards the fireplace, looking up at the mantle with renewed vigor, her lip twitching upward as she watched a glob of congealed blood drip from the head in the center. Gortash moved behind her, tenderly sweeping away her hair from her neck before placing his lips on her shoulder, his teeth grazing her skin.

“Appreciating your own work?” He asked, knowing exactly what sort of effect it had on her. With a firm hold on her hips, he pulled her towards him, her ass now pressed flush against him, with his silk robe being the only barrier between them.

Flashes of the faces, contorted in absolute agony, appeared in her mind. She could practically hear their screams all over again, they were deliciously ear piercing.

Y/n reached up, her hand clutching the back of Enver’s hair as she twisted her neck to meet him in a sloppy kiss. Her nails scraped against his scalp and he smiled in response, loving how desperate she was for contact, to taste him, to feel his skin.

Her free hand yanked on the belt of the robe to loosen the tie. Quickly, he shrugged his robe the rest of the way off, letting it pool at his feet. His hands immediately returned to her hips, grip tighter than before as he rubbed his hardening cock against the smooth curve of her ass.

She started to breathe harder as his fingers traveled closer to her pussy, which was already slick. She whined, rubbing her thighs together as she anticipated his touch.

“Always so ready,” he purred, his ring and middle fingers finally delving between her lower lips, stroking over her clit lightly before increasing the pressure.

Y/n rutted against his hand as he teased her, fingers expertly circling around her little bud. Enver moved his fingers lower, pushing his middle inside. She was obscenely wet, her cunt squelching as his finger moved in and out.

“More,” she gasped, as he added another digit, stretching her tight hole wider. He was an expert at finger fucking her, moving and curling his fingers just that herlegs turned to jelly. She had to lean against him for support to keep herself from falling to the ground. She cried indignantly as he suddenly removed his hand from her pussy.

“Get on your hands and knees,” Enver commanded, giving her a little shove. “I want you right here.”

Y/n didn’t waste a second, following his orders and lowering herself onto the floor. From this angle, she could better see the grotesque innards of the neck muscles and bones. She suddenly recalled that she had not been gentle when separating these heads from their bodies, she had stabbed over and over, ripping and tearing as she further mutilated the corpses. It had been such a rush.

Teasingly, y/n wiggled her ass in the air, more than ready for Enver to fuck her senseless.

“So needy,” he murmured, taking his time as he sank onto his knees behind her. He placed his hand at the base of her spine and caressed her back without hurry, prolonging the moment, before abruptly grabbing a handful of her hair and jerking her head back. She whimpered, at the slight sting.

The tip of his erection was now so close to her entrance, making her even more aware of how empty she felt. “Ready?” He asked.

“Yes,” y/n hissed as he tugged her hair harder.

Closing his eyes as he eased his cock into her warm velvety cunt. “Mmm,” Enver moaned, “So good.”

His pace started out slow and leisurely, once again taking pleasure in being in control while his poor lover was on the verge of being delirious, longing only for release. Despite him fucking her at such a painstaking rate, she was already so close to coming. Her hands balled up into fists, her nails digging into her palms.

“Faster, please,” she begged.

Instead, Enver stilled, his cock only half in. He couldn’t help but smile as she pathetically whined and tried to rock her hips back to fuck herself. But the hand that had been resting on her hip stopped her, squeezing it firmly.

“Say it again,” he instructed, not at all hiding his smug tone.

“Please,” she mewled. “Fuck me faster.”

The sound of her crying for him was music to his ears. Finally, Enver complied, pulling on her hair as he thrust back in, he bucked his hips harder and faster. Her juices were dripping from pussy down her thighs and onto the floor.

She didn’t last much longer, her walls clenched as came. She collapsed onto her chest, cheek pressed against the floor, her body limp and heavy after her orgasm.

“Oh, that’s it,” he groaned, feeling her cunt practically milking his cock as it spasmed around him.

Enver continued to fuck her, using her more roughly as he chased his own release. Her body slid back and forth against the floor, her sweaty skin creating some friction as he pounded away. His teeth began to grit down as his orgasm approached.

Quickly, he pulled out, his load landing on her back and sullying her even further, dried blood and now semen decorated her body.

“I think you’re in desperate need of that bath now, my dear,” he chuckled.

Y/n slowly sat back up, sitting on her knees, she could feel his cum sliding down her back. She turned towards him and her eyes narrowed, “I should cut you open for teasing me like that.”

Enver laughed, “Don’t be ridiculous, you loved it, every single moment of it.” He leaned towards her and brushed his lips against hers in a simple kiss.

After getting cleaned up, they returned to bed. Y/n rested her head on Enver’s shoulder, fingertips grazing over his skin and playing with his chest hair. The sound of his voice was steady and warm as he talked about the next steps of the plan. She felt grounded with his arm holding her by her waist and her leg draped over his.

Soon, she knew that she’d have to go out and find a victim to satiate her urge, but for right now she wanted nothing else than to be here.

[blradley]

By popular (ish) request: a WIP intro

KING OF THE WORLD (Adult romantasy/comedy, m/m)

Meet MALEVOLOTH (Loth to his friends. If he had any - ), a tyrannical dragon-king who reigns over the realm of Krazuk with a fire-filled fist. Has burned millions. Will do it again. A proud human-hater, for reasons (no, he won’t talk about it), he lives by the doctrine that only the strongest can rule.

...Which means that he spent the entirety of his five kids' lives subjecting them to horrific abuse. He pitted them against each other constantly, almost killing them to ‘make them stronger’, encouraging them to fight for power and privilege and never displaying affection unless it’s part of a ploy.

…....And then he wonders why he gets brutally assassinated and deposed.

Because he spent 0 time on building any sort of political stability and +1000 time on WAR and TORTURE-MURDER and BEING HORRID, his kingdom crumbles the minute he can no longer terrorize everyone into order. The vultures are circling, as his five children splinter the army to form their own factions and fight each other for the crown, and the surrounding kingdoms throw their collective hats in the ring in a bid to piss on Loth’s legacy as much as possible.

In short: womp, womp, no bitches.

Loth tries to project a personality that is cold, calculating, and oozing menace, to the point that he glamours his body to look far more imposing than he actually is – but he’s the sort of loser who starts screaming internally whenever things don’t go his way. When he can no longer control the actions of everyone around him, he becomes a shaking wreck, constantly catastrophising, refusing to believe that anyone could ever be kind to him without ulterior motive.

Loth spent his whole life (except for. Some very bleak formative parts.) as the despotic ruler of this kingdom. He has completely lost touch with anything outside of the prison he built for himself within his own mind, where everyone is an enemy.

MALEVOLOTH SONGS: You’re Nobody Till Somebody Wants You Dead (Saint Motel); To Ashes and Blood (Arcane, Woodkid); King of Disappointment (Echoes)

Enter AZRAEL DE LIONHART, a young human man who’s been on the run from Loth his entire life (he was prophesied as a baby to be the one to eventually slay him. Loth, unable to be Normal about anything, has been hunting him ever since).

He’s thoughtful. He’s kind. He’s warm-hearted, and seems to actually care about the endless human collateral of the wars sparked by Loth’s heirs as they bicker over the crown. Despite the absolute hell Loth’s put him through, he doesn't succumb to trauma and darkness. Instead, he makes friends everywhere he goes, and genuinely does his utmost to help anyone who needs him.

Obviously, this is all a cunning act to gain the support of the people, so he can steal the throne for himself.

Or so Loth tries to convince himself, with increasing desperation. No one can be that kind. That forgiving. That… handsome. It’s not possible.

Right?

In fact, there’s only one person in the entire world that our noble hero seems to hate… and that’s Malevoloth himself.

Whoops.

AZRAEL SONGS: Dear Fellow Traveller (Sea Wolf); New Eyes (Echoes); Me and the Devil (Soap and Skin); Thus Always To Tyrants (The Oh Hellos)

Thankfully (?) following a near-successful assassin attempt from his kids, Loth is stuck in the body of Azrael's beloved tutor: the erudite imp RIVVEN of VARRUN, who has been teaching Azrael how to fight a diverse menagerie of beasts.

Unthankfully, Rivven is very, very dead, and it's 100% Loth's fault. And all of Loth’s once-legendary powers have been lost to him, much like his corpse, which has been locked in his old fortress to prevent resurrection attempts by his dedicated cult.

If Azrael finds out that Rivven… isn’t Rivven anymore, things will get very, very bad for Loth. If Loth can con Azrael into returning him to his cadaver, where Loth can reverse his accidental bodyswap (and, um, rebuild his exploded head), things will get exceedingly bad for Azrael.

All Loth has to do is get this trusting, naive idiot to guard him for the duration of one eensy-weensy cross-continental journey. Then it's all over for humanity's so-called hero.

…Only what’s that voice in the back of his head? The one that sounds like a cross between Jiminy Cricket and a certain tortured-to-death imp?

And why, with each passing day, does the prospect of killing Azrael become less appealing?

RIVVEN SONGS: Liar (The Arcadian Wild); The Devil Within (Digital Daggers); The Whole Being Dead Thing (Alex Brightman & Beetlejuice Cast)

TL;DR: ‘we’ve gotta kill this guy, Steven.’  ‘okay but. hear me out. what if I romanced him instead?’ ‘but you’re prophesied to kill him??’ ‘…your point is?’

(note: I have no idea how long this concept will itch at my brain, and I'm mostly focusing on my vampire imperialism story & my YA at the moment! but it's a fun background project for me to poke at when I get bored of the others~ intro for the Vampire project will be coming soon!)

[indigo-constellation]

Your changeling!Daniil is amazing. Your Clara Burakh is amazing. Your totally-normal-scientist (who totally didn't do anything like Jack the Ripper and Victor Frankenstein in the capital! only ethically sourced bodies here!) Artemiy is amazing.

Clara as Haruspex is breaking my heart especially! The way you wrote her being friends with the kids - how Artemiy was once with Stakh, Grief and Lara - and how she has a foreboding feeling she won't belong with them once it is all over, because her role is to protect them, not be one of them! Rat man still found a way to be mean my girl 😭 Also she and Grace are so sweet. Wanted to say that Grace's name (Ласка) in Russian has double meaning: 1) weasel (animal); 2) tenderness. Do with that as you will~

Also Daniil (both of them) is so good as a changeling. I loved that quiet moment he had with Clara on the stage, where they say how odd it is to play like that. Love the eyes of the "twins" being what sets them apart, too! Raven feels like he wants to be a bad guy, but can't quite bring himself. Regretful plague that is also a dead man who is alive but only because the sickness is. Snake being so gentle and kind and seemingly having some sort of planning he doesn't fully share even with the reader. Also Daniil speaking Hebrew! I gasped when I realised. It's also a fun contrast to him only speaking in Latin in the game, especially if we still to see him as Jewish. Makes me really want to see how you'd write bachelor!Daniil! Want to take a look inside his head! I know what I shall read next.

Artemiy having a worst imposter syndrome out of all of them because of coming back home where he was supposed to take on his father's role and finding the man who was a founder of a project that could be called Artemiy's life work is comedy gold. Also his little sister literally living the life he refused! 10/10 no notes. Artemiy and his unfun coming-home-to-steppe party! 🥳 Roots, Rain and Reflection is secretly a comedy.

Thank you for writing this amazing role reversal, don't think I will be able to get it out of my head.

tumblr is so annoying bc I had a whole response and then it got deleted roijepigjetiuheoigj let me try to write what I can remember and hopefully do it better

I literally screamed when I read this ask btw thank you so much

the healers in this fic are so incredibly dear to me and I love them so much, I love getting to focus on them, yes Artemy's organs and cadavers as ethically sourced and fresh as he can get them :D

Haruclara truly deserves so much, she doesn't fit into the Termites despite being a kid herself, half because of the way she was raised and half because of the nature of the story and the separation of Healers and Bound. While also having messy connections with the other two Healers. I really wish I could have more Grara but this is primarily p1 focused so the Bound's role is limited (the amount of Yulia/Rubin/Lara/Aspity I had to cut- istg I was so excited to have an Aspity and Artemy interaction on day 6 but it would've been too long) I will keep what you said in mind though! thank you ^^

Changeniil has been so write, he keeps so much of himself hidden, so getting to reveal those small bits of him like in that theatre bit are great. The hands and the eyes being the main things to distinguish the twins Dankovsky is fun because those are two things Pathologic focuses on a lot, though I will say that there might be more later on. The Raven is a miserable wet beast, the idea behind the twins has been that different bits of Daniil are split up, so and what's fun about that is that it's Plagueniil that has the idealism. He's a fucked up guy held together only by spite and disease but he cares so much it hurts him. The Snake is also a creature, truly, he knows his plan, Raven knows his plan (and doesn't like it at all), and I know how it will fail, the narrators being unreliable is such a fun part of patho. I always write Daniil as Jewish (because he is to me lol) but specifically Daniil I think fits with Hebrew because it is a revived language and as a guy who is trying to defeat death I think it would suit him (also revived language and revived Daniil was an intentional choice) I will say though, idk how well my old writing holds up bc my writing got a lot better while writing roleswap so go at your own risk lol

Finally, Bachtemy, a dearly beloved fool <3 he used to have a much bigger conflict with Daniil about Daniil not being who Artemy expected him to be and that being a lot more angsty but then I started writing that scene and it turned out gay so nice. There's a lot about Artemy I'm planning to go into in chapter 7 so look out for that. Artemy is also 100% the character I get to make the funniest, truly the comedian of the cast, I am putting him in the blender as I write this.

thank you again for this!! sorry with inflicting you with the thinking about it curse lol, it's happened to a few people as I've seen and idk how to fix that (I am also infected I cannot stop thinking abt this au) but this long ask really made me so happy to see and I'm so glad you're enjoying it!!

[newkatzkafe2023]

What if Male (Y/N) who is tall like 6'6 and he personally was seriously calm and chill and not get angry easley but when they do it angry it was scary

Now one question-

"How the monkey king well react?"

my second request cuz the first one I forgot to say "monkey king" 😅

Hey thanks for the Clarification i'm sorry I couldn't answer your first request because I don't watch demon slayer. But I have no issue answering this one👌👌👌

(Lmk Wukong) Purrs into your chest like all the time. Your so tall and strong and gentle and Loving. He loves cuddling and spending time with you. One time you were in the middle of a makeout session and exchange was getting Frantic and heated before some random demon came under island and challenged, the monkey came to a fight. Wukong Was mildly pissed from being interrupted And he was getting to the good part. So he told you to remain your spot. Then he will take care of it quickly he'll be right back. But it wasn't all that quick because the Challenger was putting up a good fight And the challenger had the audacity to go and insult. The monkey came on his capabilities of battle. And it was your turn to lose your cool and you jump down leaving a crater on the ground And the next thing anybody know the demon. Challenger was picking up his teeth off the ground and running off. That's what he gets for insulting your monkey king. When you turned back around, you found monkey king half naked on his cloud Drooling with heart eyes he knows he should be afraid But you looked so sexy he couldn't even control himself. What are you waiting for? Come and get your prize big Guy💋💋💋🧡🧡🧡

(MK Reborn Wukong) He tends to blush a light when he stands next to you. Do you love someone who could just tow or overhim? Then look down with him with such a calm, gentle smile, but he would never admit that. Your calm demeanor also does wonders for his type of personality. You don't get into verbal fights too often because you're calm, Reasonable voice helps with his outburst and sometimes it'll feel bad for it, so he tries low-key tries to remain calm like you but sometimes it doesn't work that way. One day, a group of demons came to try an attack. Master tang but monkey can gotten the way of course and so did you. One of the demons was able to get the drop on him to bleed a little bit. That was all it took for you to absolutely lose your mind. Those attackers were basically cadavers by the time you were done with them. Everybody was slightly afraid of you after that but Wukong He couldn't help but quietly make Sexy promises right in your Ear.

(NR Wukong) This man is flirting with you on the daily base says. That's because he loves his big man. How you tower over him and you can pick him up with ease. Thankfully, the mask hides the blush and the drool whenever you come up from behind him. You make him very hot. You two were flirting one day until you guys were surrounded by some demon thugs. Of course, he was annoyed that his time with you was interrupted. So he wanted to make this quick so we can get back to you. He was easily fighting them but One of them somehow caught him off. Guard and smacked them dead in his face. And apparently the smack was hard enough to break part of his mask. And that's when you lost it. You are screaming and shouting and yelling profanities as you beat all of them to a bloody pulp. He had never seen you like this. And why is it incredibly turned on by it. After you were done, you picked up the pieces of the mask and said That you would help him fix it. But he said that he doesn't need his mask For what he's about to do With you now.

(HIB Wukong) He normally sighs whenever you calm around. You're both the chill kind those who wanna be left alone from the outside world. Or his favorite activity being he's alone with you. You can do whatever you want together. Sometimes even adult theme things but that's a story for another time. One time One of Hun Dun's Goons We're Harassing some of the villagers and one of them was bullying little Liuer. That's when you blacked out and turned every single. One of those demons until blood stains and the grass. After that you went to apologize for losing your cool like that but Wukong ran up to To you and kiss you all over your face. In fact, he was frantically kissing you, it was totally out of character Durham. I'm sure you know what happens next???

(Netflix Wukong) This boy is blushing every second of every day. You are so chill and patient and understanding of him it's insane. Not to mention you love to cuddle him and keep him close to you because you miss him alot. He can handle it sometimes, but he's about to love you even more in a little bit. One day, the 2 of you were spending time together before demons ended up attacking the village again and he went off to go help them. But what he wasn't expecting was for the Demons to start bullying and insulting him. Not taking him seriously what so ever. Of course, this was affecting him a little bit because of his self-worth not being where it should be quite yet. But what he wasn't expecting was for you to completely fly off the handle and run afraid with every single one of those demon invaders. None of them got out alive as you went over to check on Wukong. Baby monkey boy showered you with kisses of thanks. And he's quite happy to know how highly you think of him.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG 😇 👍

[stellar-haikyuu]

haikyuu characters as messages i've sent/received in group chats (pt. 3)

Oikawa (internally, as he aims his serves): sometimes it seems so easy to snap his arm in half

Hanamaki: why did god make bugs that bite us Matsukawa: don’t lose to them, bite them back!

Iwaizumi: LORD I AM NOT YOUR NICEST SOLDIER

Watari: sanity check, how are you guys?

Yahaba (screaming at Kyoutani): THIS WAS YOUR SECOND CHANCE HOW CAN YOU FUCK THIS UP

Kyoutani: "organizer of the group" bitch who assigned you

Kindaichi: this is so CRAZY I DESERVE AN EXPLANATION! i can't let kageyama's pathetic ass be

Kunimi: ughhhh can’t i just say that im at home but cant leave for some important reason

Ushijima: i literally live in a jungle jungle. he lives in a concrete jungle. why is he making my life HARDER?

Goshiki: i’m going to cry coach asked me to give him the paper i was holding so he held his hands out Reon: and? Goshiki: I MISUNDERSTOOD SO I GAVE HIM A HIGH FIVE  Reon: oh, that's fine Goshiki: I WANT TO FALL INTO A HOLE I FEEL SO STUPID

Shirabu: who’s gonna tell goshiki that he’s not the main character Shirabu, again: if he still bothers me when i’m in med school, i’m gonna turn him into a cadaver

Tendou: i once bit a barbie's fingers off when i was a kid Semi: what the fuck

Washijo (ranting about Karasuno, particularly Hinata and Kageyama): why are they always doing things together, have some independence

← part 2 || masterlist || part 4 →

[fanficsthatmakemybraingobrr]

A Night In Cairo

Chapter 4

Indiana Jones x Gender-Neutral Reader

You’re a Intern at Marshall College in Bedford Connecticut and you work with Dr.Jones, but he sucks at his job and is never there and is always behind with work making you get the short end of the stick. Then he drags you on a trip to Cairo with him.

I actually liked how this chapter turned out! i don't think it's half bad. but i am still very open to criticism! anyways i hope you enjoy! :}

link to: Chapter 1/Chapter 2/Chapter 3

Link to AO3

Regret. That is all you have right now is pure regret. You wish you slept on that damn bed. You should have made him sleep with that sad pile of comforters. You also regret using comforters, you should’ve taken the sheets you woke up in the middle night drenched in your own sweat and what feels like a broken back.

That’s also the reason you’re up so early you couldn’t fall back asleep. If you had to guess it’s probably 7:00 in the morning? Indy was passed out and sprawled across the bed, laying on his stomach hugging a pillow smooshing it against his face. He's pretty knocked out and is sleeping soundly, his face is gently illuminated by the sunlight coming through the window.

You just stare at him.

His eyebrows slightly furrowed.

You seem to be doing that a lot lately. Just starring.

His hair all tousled.

Why are you looking? 

The way the light played on his face perfectly framing his facial features was intriguing. 

Maybe because you've never been able to get a good look at him? I mean the time you spend around him you're always grading things or helping him plan out his syllabus day by day because he didn't do it before the semester started?

You never noticed the scar on his chin- damn this man has long ass eyelashes! 

Stop it. You're being creepy, you're standing over his body like he's a cadaver or something. You turn your gaze to the window hearing the sound of busy streets, the calls of vendors and talk of passersby. An idea pops into your head. This Is your first time out of the US, why not explore the city for a bit? You tiptoe across the hotel room grabbing your things and making your way to the door. 

The minute you step outside it's hotter than hell, you almost want to go back inside but this is a once in a lifetime chance for you right now. Hm? Where do you start, which direction do you walk in? You shrug your shoulders and think whatever and you just start walking. Your Arabic is pretty rusty so when you read signs you're mainly going off context clues. You start to pass by little shops and vendors admiring what they had to sell. The city really starts to feel alive as you take in the small details around you. In the background you hear people chattering, having small conversations About how busy they are today or their plans, the playful screaming of children, the sound of vendors selling their goods. You see how different areas of the city are all unique with different stores and goods available. At one point you see a small cat wandering around. You stop and pet it. You can feel it purr as you glide your hand down its back and off its tail.

As you were enjoying your enrichment time petting the stray cat you didn't notice Indiana come up behind you. He looked over your shoulder watching with a small smile patiently for you to notice him.

Wow.

It’s been like five minutes. Indiana is taken back for a moment. He finds it almost… What's the word, Endearing? that you're putting so much effort into petting this damn cat. He almost feels jealous. 

“You know that thing probably has fleas?” He let slip out in a teasing and joking tone. He didn't mean to say it truly…okay maybe he did. You were a little startled when he talked, you looked up from the cat at the older man and lightly rolled your eyes and let out a small chuckle.

“Your being mean Jones!” you exclaim. Indiana walks over and kneels down next to you in the cat. He extended his hand out letting the cat sniff him, the cat let out a small meow and it nuzzled its small head into his hand. You smiled as he began to pet the cat. You noticed how gentle he was in the way he treated the animal. The cat seemed to like Indiana as much as it liked you. 

“Now you have fleas” you teased back. Indy was caught a little bit by surprise by you making that sly comment but he couldn't help but smile at you.

“Yeah, I probably have some fleas now.” he said while smiling. A faint growl came from your stomach, oh yeah eating. You forgot about that. Indiana laughed as he heard your stomach growl.

“Seems like someone skipped breakfast, come on i know a place that has some great food” You stood up and the cat walked away probably to seek attention from someone else. 

“Yeah, I'm very hungry.” you say with a tinge of embarrassment. Indy then smiled and offered his arm to you. You looked at him a little confused. You let out a little ‘hm?’ and then you realized, he wants you to hold on to him. You awkwardly take his arm and he starts leading the way.

“This place gets pretty busy around this time and… ya know…i don't wanna end up losing you in this crowd.” you look at him and smile. He could have just told you to stay close but you let him keep his pride.

Indy led you into a little hole in the wall restaurant that was tucked away. Once you both walked you took a seat at a table for two in the corner of the small but humble restaurant. The decor was simple but comfortable and it had a warm and cozy atmosphere. The walls were painted a warm shade, with decorations hanging from them. The restaurant was busy with locals eating and enjoying their food. You picked up the menu and realized you could only read about half of it. You looked at Indy and he had on his round reading glasses. They made him look mature and intelligent. The round frames complemented his face.

“Uh Indy i can't read the menu that well…” you say as you sheepishly look over your menu. Indy looked up from his own menu at you and smirked at your statement. 

“That's alright sweetheart, I'll get us something we’ll both like.” 

“Okay..” you nodded.

Sweetheart? You were frozen, you moved your eyes down towards your menu finding it hard to concentrate on it. Did he mean to call you that? Why did he call you that? You could feel your face slightly burn. You found yourself almost wanting him to call you that again.

He did not mean to call you that.

Indiana Jones, a full grown man who has plenty of lovers is failing to suppress his feelings. What's going on? He's never done this before. He doesn't slip up like this (yes he does). Did you notice his slip-up? Indy suppresses these thoughts, glazing his eyes over the menu picking something out for you two to eat. Indy picked something out, called over a waiter and put in the order. There was an awkward silence between the two of you. God this is horrible. Indiana does want to know you better, he never really has sat down and had a genuine conversation with you except once. But that was your first day on campus.

Indiana had just walked out of the faculty lounge with a cup of coffee in one hand and his briefcase in the other. He had just gotten back from Turkey with his father. He was tired, his back hurting, he was behind on work, and did not have much patience. As he turned the corner to his office he noticed someone standing in front of his office door. He sighed as he approached them.

“I know I haven't graded exams but i'll get to them today.” he grumbled as he walked by them and unlocked his office. The person turned their head to the side in confusion.

“Um sir i’m not one of your students..” Indy stopped and turned around.

“What?”

“Sir i'm an Intern, My name is ___! I was told I'll be working with you this semester!” They gave him a smile and extended their hand out to him. Oh yeah, Indiana forgot about that. Oops. 

“My bad,” he said, extending his hand to shake theirs. "I'm a bit out of it today I suppose. It's nice to meet you, I'm Indy.” Indiana Jones then sighed, still feeling tired and slightly irritable after his most recent trip abroad. He took a sip of his coffee and rubbed his neck, as he could feel the tension building up in his shoulders. He looked at the intern and forced a smile, trying to mask his tiredness. "Well then, let's get to work."

Okay…maybe not too genuine, but you two are always so busy from that point on he doesn't know that much about you. 

“So..” Indy mumbled, breaking the silence. “Did you sleep well last night? I saw that you made that…nest?” You finally looked up from the table and at Indiana. You laughed as he called your bed a ‘nest’. 

“Yeah it was fine, just a bit warm.” 

“I'm sorry you had to sleep on the floor, i mean i would have but by the time i came out of the shoulder you were already asleep.”

“No it's okay, I really don't mind!” the waiter came back with your food and placed it on the table. You and Indy started eating and enjoying each other's company. It was nice, you told him about your life growing up and how you ended up at Bedford as his intern and he told you stories about the different adventures he’s been on ending on the last trip he took with his father. 

“The holy grail?” you looked at him in shock. Indy smiled and let out a small laugh.

“I thought it was just a myth!” you added. Indy looked at you with a slight smirk on his face. 

“Yeah, so did I. Even though my fathers obsession with it I never thought the damn thing had a basis in this reality. I always thought of the relic as mythical.” he let out a half hearted sigh and called over a waiter asking for the bill. You pulled out your wallet but Indy interrupted you.

“Hey I've got it.” you shook your head at his comment.

“Come on, you brought me on this trip for free! It’s the least I could do!”

“To be fair this trip is already funded by the college and I'm not paying anything either.” you stayed silent for a moment trying to come up with an excuse to pay.

“Could we at least split the check?” you suggested with a nervous smile. Indy looked up from the bill and stared at you for a moment. Then his lips curled into a playful smile.

“How about this? I pay for this meal and to pay me back and at the banquet tonight you owe me a dance?” 

[verlaineszz]

CAN YOU STAKE MY HEART?

༒︎ VAMP! Chuuya x GN! Sick Reader ༒︎

ANGST(?) + SLIGHT HORROR + FLUFF!

𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ — SUMMARY! : Ashes and Snow filled the cities of yokohama, the undeads servants rise above the ground, thirsty to sink their fangs into something, news reach you and your lover, Nakahara Chuuya.

You and Chuuya have to survive without getting bitten, trying to survive whilst recovering.

it's one hell of an apocalypse

(inspired by: "Vampires will never hurt you" — my chemical romance.)

A/N: first post!! :D, hey i haven't written in a long time and I've been into vampires, mcr and chuuya for a very long time. This is just a fic i wrote on a whim so don't take it personally since i didn't really think it through enough :<.. It's not very long since i unfortunately am going through something right now but rest assured, i am really trying my best. I'm currently trying out gothic themes

Warnings! : blood, slight g0re, death, swearing

NOT PROOFREAD!

Home is where the news came. You and chuuya got home from work and watched some tv, the news flashed photos of dead bodies with bite marks on their necks. Weird? Right? It was something serious, and bit by bit hundreds of people are already dying and sucked dry, all of the victims skins were pale and shriveled up, as if they have been under the tomb for decades. It was winter and cadavers are on the ground and caskets are in high demand.

Chuuya and you listened in carefully, worry and curiosity filling in the both of you. Chuuya stood up and decided to go cook dinner while listening to the news, it was said that it might be the work of a bat?

No bats around the area have been seen though? So what have caused it? This piqued the curiosity between you and chuuya so you and him, after dinner, decided to do more research about it.

"It must be a virus that infected those bats or something because drinking humans up dry is not normal." you theorized at the dinner table, eating with chuuya as he listens in, occasionally adding more stuff in to conclude atleast an answer that sums things up.

"I dont think so, bats ain't around our area. It could be somethin' else." chuuya adds into the conversation.

The conversation goes on, you and chuuya formulate some theories and one led to vampires, you and chuuya decided to get prepared just in case it was true.

After eating, you go wash up the plates and get ready for bed with chuuya, you took your injections that made you atleast go through the ongoing sickness that was in your heart. You were binded to a demon when you were born, it gave you an ability. Mimicry. The ability to mimic someones voice or appearance for a certain amount of time and that includes their physical attributes as long as you touch their chests but it can only be done once per person, it was an ability like asmodeous Or.. Something like that since you could take on many forms, but the demon that was binded to you was unknown since it was generational, and as time passes by, the demon slowly infects your and the people around you when you hit a certain age, but not chuuya. Since he already has a tenant in him. it infects you inevitably but you only had one suppressant, it was one that was highly expensive and only chuuya had connections to get it.

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻♱༉‧₊˚.

The moonlight was bright and it shined upon the both of you on the bed through the balcony, he wraps his arms around your waist and he he gently kisses your hair, he thought about the whole vampire and bat thing and he was praying for it to go away since he only had you by his side, melancholy would've hit him like a dagger through his heart if you were one of the victims, he couldn't let you be one of them.

You look at him with a small smile and he looks at you with eyes of admiration.

The night was quiet and you and chuuya held eachother through it, but agonizing screams were heard outside. Obviously this attracted both you and him, he stands up and look through the balcony, you followed behind him, analyzing what is going on around your surroundings, but nothing was there.

Weeks pass and the situation got worse, more and more people are dying and funeral parlors are getting rich, word about the deaths reach the news and everyone was freaking out in the internet, it was said that a vampire was discovered while mutilating a body, after that news spread it became an apocalypse. Vampires came out everywhere and preyed on anything during the night. Everybody wished it was morning all the time because when the sun goes down into the ground, they immerge from the darkness to suck lives out of human beings and animals.

Chuuya and you currently have been boarding up your shared house and stocking up your injections and food. Everything came to a halt that it was eerie.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

You and chuuya held eachother every night, he'd hold you and caress your hair, whispering — "I'll never let them hurt you, i promise."

He was worried and so were you, you sit down on your bed as he holds your hand and kissing it, he really was the only one you had, this was like a nightly ritual. Every night he'd pamper you with affection.

One day, he goes out to buy more of your medicine and to stock up on the food since the last time someone had to stock up was you, he goes out during the morning and the buildings around were mostly deserted from how much people has died that it felt like a ghost town, he goes and buys food and goes over to the lab to get your injections, but the lab that he normally goes to was empty and was only left with one person that had pale skin and black hair. "Wheres the doctor?" chuuya asks. "he is currently on break, for now."— the person in the lab replied. Chuuya had a sketchy feeling but decided to ignore it and just get the injections for you and leave, he goes do testings to get you your medicine and as he was about to grab the medicine, the person lunges their fangs into neck "agh! Fuck!" chuuya curses as he tries to push the person away but the person was incredibly strong. This was the last thing he wanted to happen. He didn't want you to lose him, after a few tries he successfully pushes them away, tearing off a long piece of skin from his chest, crimson liquid drips out of his chest from the damged skin but made a run for it, he hides his neck. And just runs back home, how could a vampire be active at this time when they're nocturnal? This baffled him but he arrives home and patches himself up without you being aware of the whole Situation.

Days pass and he tries to hide it from you, slowly avoiding you but he craved for you, you noticed this and couldn't help but talk to him. You grab his shoulder and talk to him with a worried look, "Chuuya? What's going on? Why have you been avoiding me? Did i so something?" you ask

He looks at you guiltily but he finally opens up, he grabs your wrist and puts you on his lap, caressing your face and looks down on your neck, his hearts pounds and the thought of just sinking his fangs into you filled him, but he couldn't. He wouldn't. He could never let you get hurt. He holds himself together and just kiss your neck, you let out a surprised noise before Patting his head.

"im sorry." he muttered. The vampirism was already getting to him and he couldn't let you get hurt so he reveals everything to you, your eyes widens and he caresses your hand, kissing it and looking up at you.

"i need you to do something for me and it's for you to stake my heart."

"what the hell are you talking about!?" you replied, shocked and nervous

"it'll save the both of us, remember what i promised? I'll never let them hurt you, doll. " he says as he caresses your waist and looks at you.

He needed you to do it for him, he rather have your hands finish him than his own anyway.

"i can't.. Do it." you reply, he takes out a dagger and he hands it to you, "put the spike in my heart. Please." as much as he wanted to be with you, he wanted to protect you. He blamed himself for getting bitten. And he would never forgive himself.

He says with a serious tone, you couldn't. You and him argued about it that you were crying, he held you close but the lingering feeling of just drinking your sweet blood just filled him up. He holds you close and wipes your tears, his humanity was slowly slipping away due to the vampirism. "it's the sake for the both of us, cara mia." he says as he kisses your nose to your neck, you held the dagger as you decide what to do. He was your lover, you couldn't just kill him!? But this what he wanted. You thought that you shouldve been the one that got bitten.

He kisses your neck and he whispers something, "do it, please.. You have no idea what you're up against,Because I've seen what they look like, they're like ghosts in snow."

Your eyes widens but as he kisses your neck, you feel something cold touch your neck, something sharp... And that trigger your reflexes and you lunged the dagger through his heart. Your eyes widens and you shake in horror to see a dagger through his chest, he was bleeding but he smiled at you proudly and weakly his hand on your waist and his other caressing your face and wiping yours tears with his thumb.

"You know, you still look beautiful, doll."

Your eyes widens but as he says his last words, he was already gone. But you felt something dripping down your neck.. You touched your neck and see pitchfork red.

© All works by Verlaineszz Do not copy, redistribute, or repost on other platforms.

||TAGS:

[fqrcefields]

edge of seventeen. ಇ.

summary _ , death meets the witchkiller. a.k.a., how i truly hoped agatha all along SO1EO9 would go.

⋆ tags : fluff and angst, hurt/comfort, salem flashback agathario! ⭑ࣶࣸ 

read on ao3.

 ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀────୨ৎ────

The forest lies silent.

Silent, save for the panting breaths of a young witch.

Over bodies she stands, her heart beating with such fervor that she can feel it in her ears, in the fingers that tremble by her sides, in the knees that nearly give way as she stands. She is full of terror, of panic and sorrow for the mortality that she has brought this eve, but beneath all of that grief, there hides excitement. She is only grown more formidable, taking what was meant an attack as a gift, now holding the power— the lifeforce— of countless witches in one young body.

Power is a terrifying thing for a young woman to have.

Agatha Harkness stands still in this power, in this electric current that has swept over her, causes her body’s hair to stand at attention, a simultaneous fatigue and alertness brewing in her mind. She is exhausted from screaming and begging, yet is overflowing with vitality. She has never once felt verve nor passion for life, never seen herself as anything more than her mother’s failure, never felt destined for a life better than the one she’d been shackled with. Here she stands, standing over her own mother’s corpse, the whole world’s possibilities staring at her down the barrel of its gun. However, she does not stare back. Agatha’s vision is glued to the shriveled face of her own mother, the image she’d envisioned so frequently finally come to fruition. It’s odd, how, after praying for a death so often, when finally faced with that death, one does not quite feel relieved.

Agatha is only but a girl, standing alone at the edge of seventeen, motherless, covenless, the trees her only friends.

Even they wilt in her presence, the winter’s cold air having turned what was once green and full now pale white, crooked branches. She resembles them, Agatha thinks as she continues to cast her bewildered gaze toward her own mother. She is disconcerted not that she’s killed her own mother— she has known herself to be the cause of Evanora’s downfall for far too long. She’d been told by the very woman what evil she sensed on Agatha from the very beginning. No, it’s not the death that shocks her heart and causes the tears in her eyes. After being reminded all too habitually that she is not a good enough witch, that studying for the rest of your days will not help you, Agatha had lost hope of being a skilled spellcaster all too early in her childhood.

Those last few seconds of shock and awe that danced upon her mother’s face as she died were all too delicious for young Agatha. She was no longer failure, but something to be revered, to be feared, to be worshipped. Though, there is no one left to revere her now. Every witch in Salem is dead at Agatha’s hand, and the rest of the town’s residents look to her as the Antichrist, the ultimate sinner, the next to be strung up. Agatha must leave before they can do their stringing, she realizes this. But she is stuck in time, gazing upon the cadaver of mother. The image is somehow both an incredibly poignant one, one that makes her want to cry and beg for her mother to wake up and return to console Agatha’s tears, yet also one that brings the young witch all too much glee. To see that the woman who has done nothing but belittle and torment Agatha for her entire life now lays dead at her own hands… it is infatuating. Agatha loves it.

There exists another in the woods tonight who also adores this image of death.

She had been summoned just as with every other body, yet something about this summoning felt different. The reaper has long felt the mortuary aura that hangs over Salem like a thick fog, the heightened delirium and wrath that townspeople shoot towards one another. She has wielded the scythe for an eternity and yet somehow, Salem is by far the worst bout of mass hysteria and cast judgment that Rio has ever experienced. It must be the involvement of magic that causes such a rift in energy, that lures Rio to the town. She has watched from afar, lurked in shadows and as the wind itself, has learned all there is to know about witchcraft that can be learned without taking the role of student. Rio has become witch herself (perhaps has been one all along, only did not possess name for it), all from this coven that she now sees dead at the feet of one victor.

This victor who, just as Agatha cannot remove her eyes from the body of Evanora, Rio cannot remove her own longing gaze from. Even as the sun begins to rise, as Rio’s otherworldly pull becomes strong, she sits in silence, stares. She has witnessed secondhand the villainy cast upon this young woman, the sadness forced into her heart by her own maternal figure, the simply evil words of mistrust spewed. Rio has been reduced to audience, despite how dearly she wants to reach out and dry the tears that she watches fall each night. She has all but ignored her responsibilities in her infatuation with this purple witch, has let the bodies pile as they may in order to keep her physical form in Salem for as long as possible.

Now, here the object of her fascination stands, alone, needing a guiding hand, a shoulder to cry on, a body to hold. Yet Rio’s cannot be that hand. She must only watch, must wait for the witch’s eventual departure before she may claim bodies, must return to the underworld, must allow her enthrallment to return to boredom. She must face that Agatha will walk out of this forest on her own, and Rio will never once see the large, wanting, hazel-blue eyes again.

Agatha stands overwhelmed by options, so many that she is not sure what to do with herself. Should she run into town, return to her bed, pretend to be shocked when she is alerted of her mother’s death come morning? Or is it deeper into the woods that she should run, run until her feet bleed and the seams of her dress can no longer hold? Where can she turn now? There must be a warmer climate she may run to— but who would have a map? She should simply start running and never look back— but what if she begins in the wrong direction? What if—

Agatha shakes the thoughts from her overly busy mind, forces herself into calm as she has done countless times to keep her own tongue bitten, to keep the words from falling from her lips, to keep herself alive. She takes several calming breaths, finally allows her gaze to raise from her mother’s decrepit face, looks to the sky. It is turning blue from black, but the stars are still visible. She’s spent enough time below them to know just where they sit in the sky, knows exactly which way to go to avoid north. She will find the dog, the large one that takes up the entire sky some nights. She will go towards the dog, will find freedom in its flickering light.

Follow the dog, she reminds herself, the thought barely fighting to the forefront through countless other racing thoughts. Agatha lifts her leg to take a step but cuts the movement short. She instead drops to her knees, sees her mother more clearly, feels the bile build in the back of her throat, dares not allow it escape. She fights also the urge to spit onto the woman’s face, to truly and finally insult the woman that has spent Agatha’s entire life doing nothing but doing just that. It is in this considering that Agatha’s eyes land on the brooch around the woman’s neck. Something passed down the Harkness bloodline for centuries, yet was never passed into the hands of Agatha. How Evanora had hoped for another child, she reminded Agatha all too constantly. How she yearned for another, more capable, more worthy, to grace with the heirloom. Angrily, Agatha reaches to rip the locket from the woman’s neck, does not offer second thought to how she tears the cloak. She pins the brooch once she locates her own cloak, which has fallen to the dirt, has become covered in mud just as she’s sure her mother had wanted. The reminder of her mother’s own revulsion will always taint this locket, yet when Agatha pins it into place upon her own chest, she does not feel appalled by it. It is as though made perfectly for her, a purple ornament for the purple witch.

It is ornamented that Agatha flees from the scene.

As the purple witch disappears, a green one takes her place upon the dead. She wears the mask of Death, though surely it should be the other way around. She wears the mask of Life when she walks through towns. This skeletal form is the natural one, not the human features that she takes on when necessary. She is death herself; it is no costume. It is as herself that Rio presses fingers to pulses, checks for minimal signs of life. This part of the ritual is entirely unnecessary. The reaper can feel the lifelessness, the lack of spirit, the dried shells of flesh that no longer pump blood. She need not check, though there is some distant desire to do so, to make entirely sure that she is not claiming one that may still have life within them.

At first, her feet carry her hops over rocks, light in her running, dashing between trees, careful not to step on twigs. To alert anyone of her presence would be a critical failure, so Agatha silences her own bated breath. She does not make it far before her actions become sluggish, her lids heavy and her shoulders unable to carry her small leather pack any longer. Once she is surely far enough from Salem’s town limits, she allows herself camp. Agatha knows not how to build a fire, nor does she know which of the forest’s offerings are safe to eat. She only knows her own starvation, the way she yearns for a cauldron of soup or even the stalest piece of bread. She ought to have thought more delicately about this escape, but there was little process of thought put into the mad dash.

The sun is rising on the horizon, her beloved star-dog eluding her, so Agatha takes her rest. She places her bag beside her in the direction of south, so that even in midday she will find her way. She does not have much processing time left in her, brain only functioning well enough to allow her body to make camp out of dirt and lay her head down. The moment she hits the cold forest floor, she is asleep, hugging herself tightly to maintain heat, and to comfort herself of her own traumatic day.

_________________________________

Rio cannot help her own actions. She cannot keep herself from leaving her River Styx, from returning to mortal realm, from locating her so coveted prize. She thinks of Agatha as a prize, yes. For to claim Agatha’s soul would be the greatest feat of Rio’s career. She would become the witchkiller’s witchkiller. And while it is this thought that Rio carries heavy, it is not the reason that she walks the plane of existence this day. She does not want Agatha’s soul, does not want her power. She cannot explain what it is she wants. Rio simply feels something tying their beings together, something binding them that cannot be undone even with the most powerful of magic. Though Agatha may not know it, may not even feel this connection at all, Rio does, and she will follow Agatha to the very ends of the Earth even just to keep eye on her.

It does not take Rio long to find the witch. When there is this much energy floating around the ether, the reaper is prone to locate it with ease.

When she finds her, Rio is shocked by her peacefulness. She deserves it, she thinks, Death’s form hovering over the sleeping one. And as she gazes down upon the sleeping beauty, Rio feels something that she’s not yet felt in a millennium of life. There’s a thumping within her, a beating of a heart so mistreated and unused that is has gone black. A heart that has never beaten for another, yet now begins its monotonous rhythm within Rio, will surely play as long as she is able to gaze upon Agatha. It is a heart that only beats for one, and will beat for this very one for the rest of time.

Rio must fight the urge to bend down and touch the sleeping girl. She is so exhausted, so desperate for this sleep, that Rio dare not wake her. She cannot imagine how many phases of moon this young girl has seen without proper sleep, so she does not allow her fingers the touch that they so crave. Rio instead returns to her form of the silent watcher, the viewer, the unimposing. She will be the statue, the weeping angel that will stand over Agatha’s body through nightmares and sweet dreams, will ensure that nothing will hurt the young witch in her drowse. If the witchkiller is not afforded pleasantry in day, she will at least have it in night. Though, it is not the night which Agatha sleeps now. She sleeps until the sun has undergone its full rotation of the sky, until it begins to set, until the whip-poor-wills begin their eerie calls. It is, both in Rio’s misfortune and luck, when Death’s back is turned to the young woman that she wakes.

It’s impossibly startling to Agatha’s already delicate heart, and when she wakes, is met with green cloth and dark hair, she nearly screams.

The figure whips around, and Agatha is all too relieved to see that the equally young face dons an equally terrified expression. Her nerves calm upon the sight, that they are simply two young women, equally alone. Perhaps her emerald visitor is simply looking for a companion, a friend. Agatha is, of course, as she has been her whole life, imminently questioning, dubious, hesitant. She will not allow herself to calm entirely just yet, however bewitched she may be by the woman’s dark features and beautifully embroidered corset.

“You’ll forgive me,” says the looming outline of jade, her head tilting in sympathy. “I meant not to frighten you.”

Agatha finds herself stuttering, so far from her typical self. She no longer holds the desire to be disingenuous, to put on her overly confident swagger that once hid so much fear of embarrassment. How strange it is to be far from home, she thinks. Without sisterhood, one loses herself entirely.

“That’s alright,” Agatha replies, tossing her wild hair over one shoulder, sitting upright, blood rushing to face from embarrassment over appearance. “I…” She begins again, yet does not quite know what question her brain is meant to form at this moment.

Luckily, her green character takes away the need for questioning.

“I am Rio,” she says calmly, outstretches her hand. How Agatha revels in that touch, lingers for far too long for the feeling of warmth that it gives. She hadn’t noticed, nor prepared, for how cold the day would become. “I noticed you sleeping… I only meant to watch over you so that none may cause you harm.”

Agatha’s face only blushes deeper at this.

“That is awfully kind of you.” Agatha smiles, standing up finally, her feel horribly sore from her extreme exercise the night prior. Her mind just as pained from its own acrobatics. “I am Agatha.”

Rio’s cannot help her mind’s natural attraction to etymology. She has walked this earth for so long, has learned its languages, has watched them evolve and grow just as she has.

Good. This is a good witch whom she speaks with.

“Where is it that you are headed, Agatha?” Rio questions, taking a few steps in a randomly chosen direction, anticipating that Agatha will join her, that at least they may have a few moments of conversation.

Each woman fears the other’s interpretation of her. Rio, a woman who has scared the world, who has terrified millions and will more than likely strike fear in the heart of this witchkiller as well. And Agatha, who never once had a friend, for even the members of her mother’s coven of her own age harbored nothing but sheer detest for her. They each choose their words carefully now, Rio putting all of her effort into concealing herself, into ignoring the pull of dying breaths and the flickering of lost light. As hungry as she is for a body, as enjoyable as it would be for her to do just that, there is not a single war nor plague that would tear her away from Agatha in this moment.

“I am… entirely unsure.” Agatha laughs to herself a bit, following in Rio’s footsteps eagerly, walking so closely to her that grey cloak brushes against green. “Anywhere, I suppose. Just… not home.”

Rio nods in understanding. She shares the same goal. She decides now that she will follow Agatha wherever it is that she may walk, so long as she does not scare the shorter woman off before that may happen.

“Would you mind horribly, my company?” Rio muses, praying that the hopefulness in her voice is not too evident. She does not want to betray her own deep desperation for this woman, to be by her side for every earthly minute until the sun collides with the earth, but there is no hiding such love.

“I should enjoy that very much.” Agatha is unable to hide her own smile now, so wide that it causes pain in her cheeks, very thankfully distracting from the pain in her feet, the anguish in her heart, the throbbing at her temples. She now has found comfort in death, though she need not know that detail just yet. For now, they know each other simply as two young women that found each other by chance in the middle of the woods, and that is all they need. They will know each other far more deeply, soon enough. They will have centuries to know— to love— one another, though neither knows this as they crunch over long-dead leaves and fallen twigs. Agatha and Rio need only each other’s company, only conversations about rabbits that flitter by, about how unseasonal the weather is of late. They are only a small speck in the greater universe, yet neither pays the greater universe any mind. Not when they have each other, their coven two.

[skylarkking]

"One in the Same"

A Blitzwing x Mech!Reader Fanfic

Word Count: 2k+

Prologue: Creation

“Percy, are you sure this is a good idea?” Wheeljack asked as his fellow scientist tapped away at one of the workstations. “I mean, wouldn't this be safer if we used a blank protoform?”

“The number of blank protoforms are dwindling rapidly.” Perceptor said. “To use one in this experiment would risk losing it. The cadaver Ultra Magnus has provided us will do.”

Wheeljack turned to look at the cadaver in question, an unassuming looking bot with a strangely peaceful face as his form floated in the amber fluid filled test tube. His optics were closed as if he were in stasis, when in actuality, his spark was snuffed. Attached to his back like great wings were hundreds of cables, sensors, and wires, giving him an extremely alien look. 

“Who was he anyway?” Wheeljack asked.

“No one knows,” Perceptor said. “His frame was found lying in an alleyway. No identifying marks or even a serial number. A no one.”

“Weird.” Wheeljack said. 

“It is indeed unusual. But let's not lose focus.” The pair of bots retreated away from the test tube and into a sort of safe room, Perceptor entering a few equations into the console and grabbing ahold a lever. “Initiating data transfer and power sequence.” 

The scientist pulled the lever, and a shock of electricity ran through the cables attached to the cadaver's frame. His frame jolted and kicked wildly as it thrashed about, bubbles forming within the amber liquid with each convulsion. His chassis heaved as helicopter blades erupted from the protoform along with other attributes associated with flyers. His chassis heaved as if a gasp were taken, a spark igniting within the core. My spark. 

Alarms blared, and lights flashed all around, my optics snapping open as I tried to scream. The sound would be muffled by the fluid, and there were only two things I felt at that moment. Pain, and fear.

“SHUT IT DOWN!” I heard a voice shout, terrifying me further as I writhed in the tube, my razor-sharp digits clawing at the glass before curling into a fist and smashing into it. Cracks formed in the glass with each strike until it shattered, the shards and liquid pouring out of the tube and onto the pale metallic floor along with my frame.

“CODE RED IN LAB! LOCK EVERYTHING DOWN!” Wheeljack cried out. My optics darted to the scientists, and I shrieked in fear as they ran to pin me down. I managed to roll out of the way and rip the cables and sensors off of me, my frame shakily rising and making a run for it. 

Doors began to close, and the alarms blared even louder than before. Bots with weapons swarmed the halls, chasing me as I ran. I let out a shrieking whir when one of the halls I was going to run through was blocked by one of the bots. My pedes skidded to a halt, and I tried to go back, but that way was also blocked.

I was trapped.

“Perceptor. Wheeljack. We have it cornered.” One of the bots said as he aimed a weapon at me.

I screamed and instinctively slashed my claw like digits at the bot. The claws dug deep enough to cause him to leak trails of energon, and the bot hissed in pain. This caused him to drop his weapon and back off. I grabbed it and shakily pointed it at him, more bots flooding the halls with weapons drawn.

“He's got a blaster!” One of the guards yelled. In a panic, I pointed it between the two groups of armed bots, the blades on my back shaking and trembling with terror. 

“What's all the noise?” A grouchy sounding voice yelled, catching my attention. My optics flicked to the source, and I saw a cranky looking medic with a white and red paint job shoving his way past the armed bots.

“Ratchet, stay back.” One of the bots said. “It's dangerous!” 

The medic glanced over to me and saw I was absolutely terrified. On occasion, my optics would flick between violet, orange, and blue coloration. I was leaking energon and heavily venting as I struggled to focus on the multitude of bots.

“Hey kid.” Ratchet said softly, my optics darting to him with fear. “You're scared, aren't you?”

“Ratchet don't try to reason with it.” The bot said. “It attacked one of us.”

“S…. Scared.” I managed to say, my voice cracking and fritzing with static.

“I would be too.” Ratchet said calmly. “Can you give me the blaster?” 

“NO!” I panicked as I pointed it to the other armed bots. “No no!”

“Lower your weapons.” Ratchet ordered the bots.

“Are you crazy?!” One of them snapped.

“I said lower them dammit! He's scared enough as it is!” One by one, the armed bots lowered their weapons, Ratchet holding out his servo to me. “Give me the blaster kid.”

“Wh… why?” I asked.

“You're hurt and scared. I want to help you. But first you have to give me the blaster.” 

My optics glanced at the other bots, and with slow and calculated steps, I approached the medic and handed him the blaster. Ratchet took it and handed it to the injured bot before returning his attention to me.

Ratchet motioned for me to take a seat, and hesitantly, I did. I felt fatigue wash over me while the medic worked on welding my injuries, the slight sting and hot hiss of metal filling my senses, and seeming to drown out all other sounds.

“There.” Ratchet said as he inspected his work. “Good as new.”

“Ratchet!” Wheeljack called as he and Perceptor came running through the group of bots. I immediately stood and shielded the medic from the two scientists, my optics switching to violet as I growled like an angry beast at them.

“Hey hey its okay.” Ratchet said. “they're friends.”

“f… friends?” I questioned, the color of my optics flicking back to blue.

“Yeah kid. Their friends.” I lowered my guard and shrunk back behind the medic like a scared sparkling. Due to my height, the medic shielded me quite well from view. 

“Perceptor!” The bot I had injured snapped at the scientist. “You and Wheeljack need to terminate that thing! It could have killed me!”

“Sir, it only scratched you a little.” Another bot commented. “I mean, it already stopped leaking.”

“Shut it!” The bot snapped. “It had my blaster in its servos and was going to kill us!”

“Because you cornered him with weapons drawn!” Ratchet argued. 

“S-scared.” I whispered, and I shrank even further behind Ratchet. Ratchet turned and placed a protective but gentle servo on my back in a silent form of reassurance. 

“The subject currently has the mental maturity of a sparkling.” Perceptor said. “It was logical for it to react the way it did.”

“Logical? You call clawing at me and grabbing my blaster logical?!” The bot argued.

“Loud!” I whimpered as I covered my audials and vented rapidly.

“Hey hey hey its okay.” Ratchet said softly as he tried to calm me down. 

“Ratchet, do you think you can get the subject back to the lab?” Perceptor asked. “We will take care of this.”

“Yeah, sure.” Ratchet said. The medic motioned for me to follow, and I anxiously did, the group of bots parting and allowing us to pass. I could feel their optics fixate onto me, and my own flicked to orange as intrusive and impulsive thoughts raged around. But I didn't do any of them despite wanting to so badly. 

We eventually returned to the lab where maintenance drones were cleaning up the mess I had made, my orange optics landing on a shard of glass that looked a lot like a dagger.

I giggled and went to reach for it when Ratchet slapped my servo away, snapping me out of my Mania and back to a Lucid state.

“Don't touch that kid.” Ratchet said. “It could hurt you.” 

“Sorry.” I meekly apologized. Ratchet sighed and motioned for me to sit on an examination table, to which I curiously complied. 

“Kid, I'm going to run diagnostics on you, okay? It will feel weird, but it will help me help you.” Ratchet said as he pulled out a diagnostic cable from his toolkit. 

“No thank you!” I whimpered when I saw the probe.

“Hey hey its okay.” Ratchet said. “It's not sharp, see?” He gently let me touch the tip of the probe, and, as he said, it was dull just like an audio jack. “This will click into place right here.” Ratchet demonstrated the probe by inserting it in a port on the side of his helm. “See? It doesn't hurt at all.” He unplugged the cable and gave me a small smile. “Will you let me run the diagnostic now that you know it won't hurt?”

I hesitated a moment but nodded meekly. Ratchet inserted the probe into the side of my helm, and to me, it tickled. I giggled a little before freezing up when I saw the two scientists re-enter the lab with a tall, bulky blue mech weilding a massive warhammer. I made anxious whining noises, and my optics flicked between the scientists and the new bot.

“Whatcha doing there, Ratch?” Wheeljack asked.

“Running a diagnostic on him.” Ratchet said before turning his attention to me. “Okay, we're all done. I'm gonna take the probe out now.” I nodded and allowed the medic to disconnect the diagnostic probe. The sensation of it being pulled out was less that savory. “Good job, kid.” Ratchet said. 

“Ratchet.” The new mech said, his voice mildly frightening me. Ratchet turned around and finally noticed, his own frame stiffening a little.

The sight of him being distressed triggered my Wrath state. My optics flicked to Violet, and I hopped off the examination table with servos balled into fists that were ready to defend the medic.

“Kid it's okay.” Ratchet said calmly, snapping me right out of my Wrath. “That's just Ultra Magnus. He won't hurt anyone.” I glanced at the Magnus and then back at Ratchet before lowering my fists. Ratchet ushered me to a spot and was quietly talking to me like a sire to a sparkling while the trio watched with interest.

“Perceptor. Wheeljack.” The Magnus said. “What exactly is this?” The pair of scientists looked at each other, clearly not sure what to say.

“We… don't know.” Wheeljack admitted. “We were attempting the conversion project on a cadaver and BAM! All Pits broke loose.”

“By all calculations, the cadaver should have been converted without igniting a spark.” Perceptor added. “Yet somehow one did.”

“It's clearly unstable.” Wheeljack said. “I mean, it attacked the guard captain, uh, what's his face?”

“Sunstreaker?” Perceptor said.

“Ah scrud I don't know.” Wheeljack shrugged. “Regardless, the subject has shown to be unstable mentally.”

The groups attention was drawn back to Ratchet when they heard a quiet yawn leave me, the trio watching as I rubbed my optics like a sleepy sparkling. 

“Tired kid?” Ratchet asked, to which I nodded. “Yeah I bet. You had a huge first day of being online. Anyone would be tuckered out.” 

“Ratchet, a word, please.” Ultra Magnus said.

“Wait here, I'll be right back.” The medic said. I nodded and leaned into the wall before slowly dozing off while Ratchet and the others huddled together. 

“Ratchet, what did your diagnostics say?” Perceptor asked.

“Poor kid essentially has 3 states of mind that are connected to 3 forms.” Ratchet said. “Explosive anger is connected to his ground mode, intense Mania connected to his flight mode, and Lucid is connected with his bot mode.”

“3 forms in one frame? That's not natural or normal.” Wheeljack said.

“Can these states of mind be controlled?” Ultra Magnus asked.

“Not really. They are highly volatile and can switch at a moments notice.” The medic explained. 

“Then… wouldn't it be merciful if we-”

“Don't you fragging say what I think you're going to say.” Ratchet growled. “I won't let anyone deactivate him.”

“Ratchet, he's too dangerous.” Perceptor argued.

“He's a scared young bot.” Ratchet huffed. “He's essentially a sparkling right now, a child.” Ratchet looked up at Ultra Magnus with almost a pleading gaze. “Sir, please. Let me work with him. He deserves a chance at life like anyone else.”

“Then he will be your responsibility.” Ultra Magnus said. “But if he attacks anyone again, he will be deactivated.”

“Yes sir.”

--------

A/N so usually I post this stuff on Wattpad but I figured this could be a Tumblr exclusive or something. Idk man.

Next chapter: Click Here

[c-a-d-a-v-e-rr]

i logfb snufkin i saw a sjinglr video of him and nwo i owuld die for that greem man he is so me oh my gokd

[gauze-valley]

Whumperless Whump Event Day #30

My VTM storyteller gave me permission to post one of my session entries, so uh. Have an excerpt of my fledgling Toreador's suffering for day 30 of the @whumperless-whump-event ! I hope this counts, I'm interpreting the prompt as just. Intense high emotions!

forgive the fact that it's a bit unpolished but i usually just kinda leave my RP posts how they are, otherwise I end up accidentally changing important details lol

_________________________________________________

Prompt: Day 30 - Breaking Point

Fandom: VTM 5th Edition

CW: violent imagery, mentions of death, emetophobia, protagonist with violent urges (because. vampire)

Right. That's it, then. Follow through, or let him go. Juno is so, so hungry, it's starting to hurt. A bearable, but distracting pain that somehow feels deeper than his stomach, like there's just a hole inside of him. Something tries to reason with him, that this is a perfect opportunity, and he'd be so, so stupid not to take it. There's nobody here. The man is pinned underneath him.

And what if it gets worse? He'd have to leave Audrey and Julia alone with a stranger, alone in this city with things that are no doubt much hungrier than he is.

Isn't it better to just get it over with? He wouldn't be hurting anyone, not really, right? Hell, he drank from Gabriel twice in the span of an hour, and he was fine. Better than fine, he'd said he loved it, that it felt good. Isn't that amazing? Such delight, ecstasy, even- born from a wound.

It's like his sire said. Like his father said. Sometimes beauty is grotesque, ugly at the root. Sometimes it bleeds, and the blood is beautiful too: the color, the taste, the way it drips, the taste, the warmth, the taste-

Juno releases the man and stumbles back. He almost trips over the cat, but manages to turn around and scramble for the door to the bathroom, throwing it open and collapsing on his knees in the nearest stall.

There is nothing but static in his head again as he violently retches, doubled over and gripping the edges of the toilet bowl so hard it's almost painful. He coughs his throat raw, but nothing comes up, and that only makes it worse. A living thing would at least have bile in its stomach.

Something flickers between the static. Dead. He's dead, at just twenty two. Isn't that funny? Fuck the 27 club, he didn't even make it to twenty three. Isabelle was right about what would happen to him, just not how. It doesn't matter. A violent death is a violent death, and he'll never see the sun again, because he's just a hollow cadaver being piloted by- by what? The hunger? Is that why he's like this now? Or has he always been like this?

Those erratic thoughts come to focus on Parker Connelly. His mouth, his smile, the way his teeth felt colliding with Juno's knuckles. He wants to be sorry, but he never has been. Not about that, not about the way he screamed at Isabelle, or the things he said to her. Sure, he feels remorse for what he's done this week, but that's not enough. It's too late.

Maybe he has always been like this.

[roetrolls]

(Tetris has been in the fleet for basically his whole life, you know. Let's talk about that.)

Mind and Body

The fluorescent lights of the lab buzz faintly overhead, their constant droning oddly comforting compared to the inconsistent drip-drip-dripping of liquid on the cold tiled floor. Cricet stares blankly at the corpse on the table, his wide eyes trained on the artificial heart still pulsing inside its open chest. Bronze blood rolls down its hanging arm to collect in a pool beneath its fingertips, the heavy metallic odor just barely detectable through the sterile scent of formaldehyde.

“I’m not a physiopsionologist,” the Doctor grumbles, holding a vial of blood toward the light. She pulls her attention from the sample to turn an unimpressed gaze onto Cricet, her expression stern. “Or a pediatrician.”

He shrinks slightly when the jadeblood looks at him, small fist finding its way to the Colonel’s pristine pant leg at his side. The officer brushes his hand away without looking down, smoothing the fabric where he grabbed it.

“You’re closer than the ship’s medics, at least. I’m not asking for routine.”

The corpse’s fingers twitch. Cricet tries to remind himself they do that sometimes.

“I’m busy.”

“You’ll be able to take a sample.”

This time when the Doctor looks at him, Cricet closes a fist around his own shirt, heart thrumming in his ears. She sniffs once and adjusts her glasses, then takes a scalpel to the side of the brownblooded cadaver, gaze returned to her work.

“Doctor Nalaco,” the Colonel pleads, exasperation seeping into his voice. “Just a few tests, until we can get a proper specialist on board.”

“The fact you’re even asking me this is ludicrous.”

She prods a gloved hand into the body’s chest, pausing to watch the fake heart spasm and pump in response. With her clean hand, she jots down a note, then turns her back on the table to sift through the supplies behind her. Cricet continues to watch the heart, mesmerized by its morbid, thready rhythm.

He loses himself to the pulse, the adults’ argument slowly absorbed into the steady hum of light bulbs and machinery. The blood crawls further outward, each quiet plip echoing through Cricet’s head like thunder. Why is she letting so much of it drain onto the floor? Isn’t that a waste?

He pulls his gaze away from the corpse’s wayward arm to focus on its expressionless face, dull eyes fixed unblinking on the ceiling above. Then the body twitches again, and in a moment that feels all at once blazing fast and agonizingly slow, those lightless eyes snap to the side and lock directly onto his.

Cricet screams, the sound tearing out of him like a bird from his chest. He stumbles back in shock, moving so fast he trips over his own heels and tumbles to the floor. The Colonel swivels to look at him, and all he can think to do is thrust a finger at the body, eyes blown wide with fear.

The Doctor scoffs under her breath and carries on working, making another note on the manufactured heart that Cricet now realizes is keeping the bronzeblood alive on her table. His stomach lurches, his mind racing.

He has always heard that the fleet has use for everyone.

Suddenly, Cricet is certain of one thing:

Whatever use they have for his brain, he will give it to them fully. He does not want the fleet finding use for his body.

[sillyclowncircus]

Oh no, silly brain rot

@o-i-w-u come get some gore

Au where the tsams characters all work at a school- but ya know me, murder murder murder- so uhm- everyone has a small twinge of evil- or a lot

And all the kids are orphans to explain why no one notices kids missing

Ack- murder school

Uuuhm- gore mention besties

Tw: gore, murder, death, children death, esting flesh, EVERYONE IS MURDERERS

Sun does art classes :D he really enjoys painting the most, and red just happens to be his favorite color! And who else but those misbehaving students to provide him with that red paint his loves so much? Whats a little loss of a misbehaving student for the cost of art after all? Besides, hes been teaching these kids for 3 months now! If their art hasnt improved yet, what use are they to him but paint providers?

Moon! Going with that basic bitch science teacher for him. He enjoys science and loves it even! It's such a nice pass time for him, something he can relax while doing! Thats why its so annoying when one of the students have to mess up his relaxation time! How could a student be so stupid to mix ammonia and bleach!? Some students just have to learn by being the victim of their own failed experiments... even if it results in a little death sometimes.

Killcode is a gym teacher. After all, who but the fast predator to be one? Kill code is well aware that he scares the students, and he thrives on that terror. He loves to give students difficult tasks. What does he care that you're getting ropeburn from climbing that 20 foot(about 6 meters, i think-) rope? If you fall, then you best get up and run and keep running til someone else falls, or you're going to find yourself torn to pieces to feed his family and other students.

Earth does both cooking and gardening! She loves planting things! Especially things like Castor Beans, Winter Daphne, and Dendrocnide moroides! She has a love for plants that are dangerous and well... dont be surprised if a Castor Bean seed ends up in your food if you happen to be rude to one of her favorite students. Earth may not like killing, but she does like knowing punishments have been given, even if it results in death. She pften cooks the meat of dead students so it doesn't go to waste. It is a shame to waste such good meat after all... and meat is good plant fertilizer.

Lunar does zoology! He brings animals into the school and lets the students meet them! Who cares if last weeks wolf killed a kid? Not Lunar, he's metal. The wolf couldn't hurt him! The raccoon had rabies, and it bit you? Well, the only way to tell with animals is cutting their head off and sending it to the lab, so say by to your head and off to Moon's lab it goes! And if he so happens to take you outside and into the woods within the schools the 3 miles of fencing? He's just there to feed the animals he keeps, and you happen to be the meal.

Bloodmoon does anatomy! If a body comes in whole, they'd use it to carve ooen and show their class, maybe eat an organ or two. When there's not one? Well... no one is gonna miss that short kid in the back, right? It would be fun to cut open a live one and let their students see a heart pumping, lungs drawing their last breaths.

BM1(Bloody) he especially loves the gore, he personally loves the live students to work on, finding the dead ones boring since they don't squirm and scream. He prides himself in making the students both terrified but intrigued

BM2(Harvest) prefers working on the dead bodies. The struggle of the live ones annoys him, too squirmy, too wriggly. Tho he does hate the cold feeling of the dead bodies, so sometimes he just kills a student the moment they walk in class to have a warm cadaver to work on.

SolarFlare teaches both math and reading. Personally, he doesn't like killing that much... but someone getting answers wrong irks him. He's worked so hard with these students for months, and that can't spell something simple that 'Knowledge' correctly? Or what 2544 ÷ 48 is? It's 53! They aren't worth his time, and he doesn't feel that another teacher should waste their time either. So he kills them, his go-to method being to break their necks so its quick and not too messy.

Solar is the janitor and technician. He's just... tired. There is too much cleaning to do, too many dead kids, and most of all... ugh, Eclipse is annoying. But he doesn't break his role of janitor, knowing that he really has nothing outside this school anyways, so whose gonna judge him for snapped and punching a student who annoys him? No one. At least he's not killing... or if he is, no one noticed... It's amazing what hydrogen peroxide can clean out of clothes after all.

Eclipse is the principal. He doesn't mind all the killing, but he prefers not to get his hands dirty. It's enertaining to watch students come complaining to him, though. He will kill, tho. A student breaming too many rules, making too many messes, out with no hall pass... those who break rules have no place in his eyes. So a quick death should do fine. But if there's one he just particularly hates... He's happy to take his time to peel off someone's skin

[the-ultimate-pie-family]

Cadaver and Comet defending cold stream part 4

"Comet was screaming in pain after they teleported to the cold stream realm and richtofen aimed at pistol at comets head." Sorry Comet, you know what will happen if you turn. "Comet started crying in fear of being one of the infected." Do it do it now...... no "blood wrapped Comets leg where he got bitten." Wait it out, Comet, please, you might be surprised just like cadaver is immune to the infection. I was surprised that my buddy was still surprised now. Fine Comet lives for now. "richtofen put his pistol away." Now what? The mini 115 teleorter is gone!! "They were all shocked." Really richtofen you lost it!? Don't point fingers at me, American monkey and Russian i swear stick your fuckin fat nose in this either ill kill you myself. Well, German, I was gonna stay out of it, but you insulted my nose. "richtofen, nikolai, and dempsey had a fist fight bets were made, and taecko even bet." Can you three move while fighting because we need to keep moving? "They all three nodded as nikolai choke slammed both dempsey and richtofen to the ground" that had to hurt. "Cadaver stayed close to comet." Hey Bud, how are you feeling? Besides, i might turn scared..... cadaver, I'm scared....... you'll make it Comet i have faith you will be immune. Even faith doesn't work cadaver....... damn your a sour puss right now. How about I get some medical weed from blood that should cheer you up? "Comet giggled at the fact that Cadaver is trying to cheer him up." yea I'll be here, "then blood teleported with 10 blunts. " You two get one. It's lite already, too puff away, hahaha, babe starts passing blunts we need some laughs going on it stitch boy "vani and blood started passing lite blunt to the others to get some laughs going"

"Cadaver and Comet smoked the blunt they started talking more than the laughter started comet and cadaver smoked the rest of the blunt as they laid back in the wagon comet was slowly falling asleep but he knew he had to stay up just in case" comet can we talk privately "comet looked at the passed out cadaver as comet followed blood" look I know your scared homie but fear is what fuel the infection to work fast. Huh? I thought it was the bit mark? No fear is what makes you turn sounds odd, but that is what I learned over the years. "Then vani came by kissing blood cheek." How's the talk going, babe "comet answer the question even though it wasn't for him." Fine, I think, but I still don't understand the fear part. Just don't show fear comet. I know it's hard, but fear will consume us if we show fear. "Comet, get it now." Thanks, blood, but what if I'm not immune and I get consumed? "vani and blood looked at each other, worried." richtofen will kill you if anything...... but you gotta be immune. It's been an hour already. "Comets jumped for joy then got tackled by a throwed dempsey." damn felt like a tank hit me....... sorry comet "dempsey got decking nikolai and richtofen" there still going at it i see hahah. Bloods uncles are an odd bunch. Most of them usually are. no doubt. "Then a witch was walking fake crying," team open up witch. "The group opened their area up, then a smoker dragged cadaver, then came a giant horde with special infected mixed in" battle stations defend this area "then richtofen startled the witch as she started tearing richtofen apart" charger!!!!! "The charger charged into vani separating the group more" kill this thing pounding me into the ground. comet look out "comet turned blasting the hunter killing him" bitch your dead. cadaver!? "Cadaver yelled help since he got down and can't move." dempsey, go with comet. "dempsey and Comet chugged a juggor nog and speed cola they started unleashing ammo on the infected covering cadaver." You ok cadaver? I'll live. "Cadaver dempsey and Comet went back to the group. vani was back up, and richtofen was healing." Throwing bile jar, "blood threw a bile jar as the infected ran for the smell of boomer puke. " Run!!!!!! "They all ran for the safe house, but then a hunter pounced on richtofen, tearing him apart screaming in pain. "Blood and comet ran out of the locking the door so the rest couldn't get out or in" ready comet? Born for this blood. "Comet and blood raced for richtofen with the effect of stamamia up." Now, "comet dolphined tackled he hunter of richtofen smashing it's skull then the horde started surrounding the three survivors richtofen was already healed and ready for action" it been a honor gentlemen like wise doctor I love you guys "they got back to back to back praying they survive this" guys a open over there move move "they all three ran for the open climbing into a tree house and barricade the door shut" are we high enough blood? I hope so

Mod pie: to be continued in part 5

Tags: @vanitythevantropist @clown-sip