#corpse fluf

[demonic0angel]

Ooooh, Athena as Jazz's guardian goddess was kinda cool. I was like to see a prompt like that.

Red Hood clicked his guns and cursed. He had run out of bullets and the gang members were now about to find him and his henchmen in a few minutes. He glanced to the side, where the rest of his henchmen also shook their heads, waving their empty guns. He turned to Wolf next, who looked largely unconcerned despite her having empty guns as well. In fact, she was holding her hands together in some sort of prayer.

He had never taken her as the religious type, but whatever.

“Alright,” Red Hood hissed. “I’ll stay as a distraction, but you all will scatter and then come back to the base, okay? Stay there. If you don’t see me in the next few hours, wait until the next morning. Wolf is in charge.”

“No need.”

They all turned to Wolf, who finally straightened from her devout posture. “I can handle this, Hood.”

“… there’s twenty-five gang members with guns and only eight of us. You should run. I have armor and I know my way around here so—”

There was a soft cooing noise.

They all glanced up, where an owl had flown in and was now resting on a utility pole. It cooed, and Red Hood tensed, but quickly ignored it as the other gang members finally rushed in.

“There they are!”

Fuck! They were too late to run away!

Red Hood moved to block Wolf from the oncoming bullets, but before anything could happen, a gold spear flew over him and then struck straight through the head of a opposing gang member.

Silence reigned as everyone stared in shock. Before Red Hood could react, Wolf ran past him and took a running leap, jumping into the fray as she pulled the spear out of the corpse and then swung. She was holding a large, shimmering shield with a Medusa head on it to block the bullets as the opposing gang members screamed, and she moved expertly, swinging the spear like she was straight out of Rome.

Like a hurricane, she completely bulldozed the opposition.

Red Hood and his henchmen all stood there in silence, completely and utterly stunned.

When she was done, she stood in the middle of the bloodbath with her shield and spear in hand like some warrior goddess out of the legends. In fact, she was so beautiful that Red Hood almost wanted to drop to his knees and worship.

“… are you a goddess?” Red Hood blurted out.

Wolf paused in flicking away the blood from her spear and then burst into laughter. She was still giggling as she came over and the owl that they had all forgotten about flew down to sit on her shoulders. It fluffed its feathers and watched them all with sharp, golden eyes.

“No,” Wolf said, her voice sounding amused. “But I follow an excellent goddess.”

The owl hooted proudly.

Red Hood’s eyes widened as he then asked, “Holy shit, can I join?”

[bookofthegear]

Whatever’s in the pipe almost certainly isn’t an eighteen foot tall owl, but you just don’t feel like finding out. The guy who stuck his head in a pipe found out Why We Don’t Stick Our Head In Pipes, and look where it got him.

You head back up the ramp to the large room with the staircase. The dark alcove with the horse skull hanging hasn’t changed, but from this angle, you notice something on the floor there. Something that looks like…rags?

“DON’T TOUCH THE SKULL!” Jimmy shouts. In interpretive dance, this means performing directly in front of your face. You shove your hands in your pockets and hastily promise you won’t.

“A wall comes down right behind you if you do,” Jimmy says, as you approach what appears to be a semi-mummified corpse. “I tried to bring him water through the bars but I just couldn’t carry enough.”

“No one would expect you to,” you assure him. Let’s see…calculate how much therapy Jimmy would require afterward, multiply by the number of dead adventurers…

“Jimmy, exactly how many people have you worked with down here?”

“You’re number Eight.”

“Ah. And the previous seven all…?”

“Well…” He rubs the back of his neck with one wing. “I don’t actually know about Six. We got separated and I never found her again. I looked!” he adds, fluffing up defensively. “But it was dark and I couldn’t go very far, and—and—you’re looting that body?”

“Waste not, want not.” You got amazingly high marks in Looting. You could strip a body in eighteen seconds flat, provided they didn’t have a ridiculous number of pockets or badly knotted bootlaces. “So which number was this fellow?”

“That was Three. You saw Seven already.” You get the impression he doesn’t entirely approve of your work.

Three was a Wentworth graduate. You can tell by the class ring and the embroidered logo on his breast pocket. You help yourself to what little money he had and rifle through his backpack. It’s mostly duplicates of your own gear, but you take his matches and first aid kit, and a few other odds and ends, then leave the poor devil in peace.

You can see why he wanted to smash the horse skull, though. The nasty thing seems to pulse like a bad tooth. Definitely cursed.

The only way out of the staircase room is currently to the east. You follow the corridor to a crossroads. “There’s a clockwork beehive north,” Jimmy says, settling back to his role as tour guide. “South is boring. East goes to a staircase. Oh, and a big metal grille.” He fluffs his feathers again in clear distaste.

[porcelainseashore]

Into the Ether (7)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, alcohol, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 7: More Than Human

During the time you stayed at his place, Leon let you have the bed while he took the couch. You tried not to feel guilty as he draped one of his extra bed sheets over it, fluffing the cushions up like pillows. And you tried not to feel the same guilt again, when you glanced over at the broken bedpost that you’d damaged in a fit of anger not long ago.

With a remote control, he closed the blackout shutters over every window in the apartment. They locked themselves with a click, ensuring that all outside light would be blocked out. A large duffel bag sat by the side of the room. Earlier, you’d packed a bunch of your stuff and transferred them over to your temporary residence. You didn’t know when you’d be able to return home again. Perhaps when the case that you’d been unwittingly assigned to was over and you had the chance to invest in some thick blinds.

You kept the usual hygiene routines you’d practiced before, wanting to retain any sense of normalcy you could from the time you had been human. Leon appeared to do the same. You felt like a weird couple, brushing your teeth together as your deadened gazes stared straight into the bathroom mirror. What was the point of pretending to be something you weren’t? You spat out the foamy toothpaste, traces of reddish-pink swirled along its surface. At least you could still bleed.

“Sleep well,” he murmured, fingers grazing your wrist as you passed by his couch. Then, he was out like a light.

You watched as he entered into a comatose type of daysleep; no breathing and no heartbeat to be found. He lay like a corpse, dead to the world — exposed, vulnerable and defenseless. Only vitae could reanimate him now.

You were glad that you couldn’t dream in this state. After what you had experienced, there would be no shortage of night terrors. Leon had mentioned about other Kindred who could hear whispers from the Abyss or the Beast in their sleep, but so far you hadn’t had to worry about that. In fact, going to sleep felt like dying all over again and for a moment you panicked, thinking you were suffocating on a bed you were unaccustomed to. But soon, you drifted off into nothingness, and your brain shut down until it was time for you to rouse the blood again.

It was an hour before sunset when you woke up, gulping in air as if you had drowned and resurfaced. Maybe it would take a couple more tries before you’d become more familiar with the feeling. You peered down from the upper level of the loft, spotting that Leon was still out cold. Funny how you were the early bird for once.

Filling a glass with the tangy, dark red liquid from his supply in the fridge, you drank it imagining it was beetroot juice. It was easier to stomach it this way. Your colleagues were expecting you at the cafe this evening, and you decided to get yourself ready to head off, paying close attention to the way you styled your hair, your makeup and even your clothes. You weren’t sure if they would be able to sense if anything was ‘off’ about you.

Leon hadn’t instructed you to do anything tonight, but it still felt as though you were a grounded kid sneaking out on a sleeping parent as you left the apartment building for a place you’d always regarded as your second home. Perhaps it would be nice to pay a visit to something you were familiar with in your previous life.

“Whoa… hey! If it isn’t the girl who came back from the dead!” Patrick called out the moment you stepped into the establishment. 

You nearly choked on your saliva, and he must’ve noticed the look of absolute horror on your face, as he peppered it with, “I mean, your phone was dead, and, uh, we thought you got kidnapped or something,” while rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Bursting into laughter from the unnecessary tension you had been holding in, you pulled him into a tight, almost desperate hug, like you’d never been happier to see him. He seemed flustered by your sudden display of affection, but returned the embrace, giving you a few awkward pats on the back.

“Y’know, something about you seems… different,” he squinted, giving you a once-over, when you released him from your grip.

Shit, did you miss a spot? Was there blood on your teeth? Could he tell that you weren’t human anymore? A barrage of thoughts raced through your mind, until you reminded yourself to play it cool with one of those jokes you usually cracked when you didn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah, guess I got pretty.” You shrugged, emitting another giggle as he rolled his eyes.

“If you were fishing for compliments, you could’ve just said so. I’m a generous man,” he retorted before heading towards the stage area to set up. “Anyway, whatever. Holler if you need me!”

As the evening crowd began to trickle in, you noticed that the two companions who seemed to know Leon, albeit on less than friendly terms, had shown up tonight as well. They waltzed over to you, though the nearer they got, the more they looked like they were treading on eggshells. You feigned busyness and the nonchalance that came with it, putting away clean glasses and helping your colleagues to take orders at the bar. It wasn’t until the male counterpart of the two thumped his broad, hefty hand on the counter top to get your attention, that you could no longer avoid the inevitable and turned his way.

“How can I help you?” you asked, putting on a well-practiced, polite smile.

“Mind if we take this somewhere more private?” It didn’t sound like he was the type to take ‘No’ for an answer.

“Um, sure?” You acted as if you were confused, but you had an inkling of where this was heading and wanted to see if your suspicions had been right all along.

Leading them to a storage area at the back, which was semi-hidden from public view, you waited for them to talk.

“So, we heard about your new status,” the man began, carefully choosing his words.

Oh boy, that explains it. “Jesus, you guys too?” you blurted out, pressing your forehead against the palm of your hand as you heaved an exaggerated sigh. “How many of you are there? And why my cafe?”

Before he could answer, you kicked a loose piece of trash on the floor in irritation and cursed out loud, “God-fucking-dammit.”

The man raised his hands halfheartedly like bear paws, his soft brown eyes looking on at you in amusement. “Sis, you sure this one’s a Toreador?” he roared out in laughter. “Smells more like one of us.”

The woman rolled her eyes, pushing her way forward in front of this hulk of a man. “Sorry about my brother, he’s not great with women.” You heard a disgruntled snort from him as she said that.

“Anyway, I’m Claire,” she mentioned rather matter-of-factly, though she hesitated a little before sticking out her hand towards you cagily, as if you might chew her head off. 

You weren’t sure what all the fuss was about as you accepted it, offering a firm handshake, which seemed to surprise her. For the first time, she smiled appreciatively back at you while you followed up with a short introduction.

Turning towards the man, she indicated, “This big boy here is Chris.”

Without any pretense, you took his hand proactively, giving it a similar handshake as he glanced at his sister, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Does she know?” he questioned.

Claire ignored him, focusing on you instead as she broached the subject. “Listen, I’m gonna cut to the chase here. You and I? We’re kinda on different sides, if you catch my drift.”

You nodded at her to continue.

“Thing is, most of us Anarchs are wondering if we’re now gonna have to vacate this area, ’cause uh, well, you’re a Cammy,” she tried to put her point across as succinctly as possible. “And I don’t mean this as a threat or anything, but I gotta say, there are some who are pretty pissed that this shit went down.”

Right, the Anarchs. They were but a brief footnote in Leon’s history lesson. The ones who broke away from the Camarilla, founding their own governing structure from what they deemed as ‘oppressive rule’. You likened them to left wing radicalists against the exclusive, upper echelons of conservative society. It was a no-brainer which group out of the two you would have preferred, but unfortunately Leon had already made that choice for you.

Anger at the lack of agency you had in all of this unfurled like gaseous vapor, sluggishly rolling off the tip of your tongue. “Fuck Kindred politics and whatever form of bullshit that it comes packaged in,” you seethed. “I’m not going to play anybody’s game here. As long as you behave, you’re welcome in my books.”

Chris gave a low, drawn-out whistle through his teeth as he clapped measuredly in response, somewhat impressed by your impassioned speech. “I like this one; she’s got some bite,” he told Claire before addressing you wistfully, “Damn, you would’ve made a great baby Brujah.”

No prizes for guessing that these two belonged to that clan. Rabble-rousers, spirited fighters, but intellectuals all the same. You wondered what it would’ve been like to join them. Were you merely a Toreador by lineage alone, shoehorned into the clan because of some forlorn love that your sire had for you? One that you were conflicted in reciprocating. Or did you actually have the heart of Brujah instead? What would happen if you didn’t belong in your clan?

“Yeah, that’s a shame,” she agreed. “Though you are a bit like Leon in some ways.”

“Claire!” her brother warned. It was his turn to knock some sense into her.

“What do you mean by that?” you pried, aghast that they could find any similarities between you and the man who broke your trust.

She opened her mouth to say something further, but he gripped her arm as his eyes narrowed at her.

Wedging yourself between the two of them, you demanded, “You can’t just bring him up and leave me hanging?!”

“See what you’ve done now?” he fumed, the corners of his mouth drawn downwards into a pronounced frown.

“Chris, she’s gonna find out sooner or later,” she fired back.

“Will someone just tell me what the fuck is going on?” you groaned in exasperation.

Chris let go of Claire roughly. “Fine, sis,” he grunted. “But you deal with the aftermath.”

Yanking her arm away, she tugged her devilish red leather jacket down by the lapels to straighten it, before explaining, “Leon used to run with the Anarchs for a while. Well, not officially, according to the Cam, but I would’ve considered him like a brother.”

Shooting daggers at Chris, she added snippily, “Apparently, having one already wasn’t enough, so I had to torture myself with more.”

Chris shoved a fist into his chest, as though an arrow had pierced his heart. “Ouch, that hurts,” he grunted mockingly.

Your jaw dropped at the story that Claire spilled to you. Leon as an Anarch? You could never imagine him joining the cause.

“No way that prissy ass, stuck-up, boy band reject switched sides,” you exclaimed, as Chris stifled a guffaw at your insults. It was evident from your tone that your pent-up frustration over Leon’s convenient omissions and hypocrisy had reached its boiling point.

“Way,” she rebutted smugly. “And I don’t blame you; I’d be mad as hell too if I were in your shoes. Unfortunately, Leon was always guided more by his emotions.”

Expelling a weary sigh, you leaned your arm against the wall and buried your head in the crook of your elbow to steady yourself. “I don’t understand this guy.”

Claire threw you a sympathetic look as she continued, “Now, this is just a hunch, but I’m pretty damn sure he was about to defect to us, when the Cam got him by the balls.”

You perked up, arching your eyebrows as a quizzical expression spread across your face. “With what?”

“That’s a good question. We don’t know,” she admitted, exchanging perplexed glances with Chris that could rival yours. “But must’ve been something nasty.”

You wondered if Leon would tell you if you asked him. But seeing as how he’d already been keeping secrets from you, either out of a misguided belief that it was for your own good or for more malicious reasons, you weren’t optimistic. Maybe you’d wrangle it out of him someday. After all, he owed you — a lot.

“Anyway, you both seem, um, cool? We should stay in touch,” you suggested, suddenly unsure of whether things like this worked the same way in the Kindred world. Perhaps you were overthinking it. 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Claire flashed a grin. “We’re not going anywhere.”

At that moment, something caught Chris’ eye and his previously jovial expression turned solemn. Leaning in, he mumbled into your ear, “By the way, your vampire daddy is here.”

Vampire daddy?

You angled your head to peek in Chris’ line of sight and near the entrance of the cafe, you could make out Leon glaring in your direction. Uh oh, were you in trouble?

“Ha ha, very funny, Chris,” you articulated sarcastically, but before you could make your way over, Leon had beaten you to it, already standing by your side with his hand on your shoulder.

“I see you’ve been getting acquainted with my protegé?” his innocuous question taking on an accusing tone. 

You couldn’t comprehend what the hostility was for. “Yeah, turns out they’re actually great company, so why don’t you back off?”

Chris snickered in the corner as Leon clenched his jaw, visibly incensed by your interference. Wheeling you around, he backed you against the nearby wall, palms flat against either side of your head, caging you in with his body.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” he growled. “And don’t ever interrupt me again.”

His reprimand resounded in your ears which were now bright red; you weren’t sure whether it was from embarrassment or anger, or both. Swallowing a lump in your throat, your eyes darted from his glittering blue ones to his full lips, which were a hair’s breadth away from yours. He remained unmoving, but you could see his features darkening and a conflict brewing in his mind. Warmth pooled in your chest and your face flushed, remembering that same electric rush you felt the last time he was this close to you at the arbors. Was this what you were attracted to — the danger and excitement? Or was there something more to it?

“Having fun babysitting, Kennedy?” Claire’s voice pierced through the mounting tension in the room.

That broke his trance as he peeled himself away from you diffidently, carding his fingers through his hair as its silky strands fell back into his face. “Good to see you too, Redfield,” he remarked dryly. “Still running your mouth like you used to, huh? Guess nothing’s changed.”

Folding her arms across her chest, she shifted her weight to one hip and sassily replied, “Could say the same about you. I mean, you always did have a thing for… interesting women.”

He scoffed, brushing her comment aside with a shake of his head as he steered the conversation onto a different topic. “I need you to do something for me.”

Claire opened her mouth to say something, but he raised his finger to silence her. “Uh-uh, let me finish. This concerns all of our skins. I assume you’re aware of the incident that happened the other night?”

“Yeah, it was pretty fucked up,” Chris attested, speaking on behalf of his sibling, before glancing at you and mouthing “Sorry.”

You gave him a sad, side smile in recognition. It seemed like no matter how you tried to avoid it, you were fated to be reminded of your passing again and again.

“I’m not pointing fingers here, but it’s likely there are more players than the Sabbat involved,” Leon explained.

At this, Claire raised her voice defensively, “Are you trying to pin this on us? You think one of us was responsible?”

Her brother, who seemed to be the more collected one, patted her shoulder a few times, indicating for her to stand down and listen to what else Leon had to say.

Leon nodded curtly at him, as if they shared some sort of unspoken brothers-in-arms code that you and Claire weren't part of. “No one’s blaming the Anarchs. At least, not yet. I made sure of that,” he pledged.

Claire pressed her lips into a thin line; you could see her bristling at Leon’s words. However, she knew that he had done something to prevent Wesker from launching a full-frontal assault and destroying the Anarch conclave in one go.

“That suitor you mentioned…” he trailed off with a slight pause, and for some reason you felt all pairs of eyes land uneasily on you for a brief second before he continued. “The one interested in the East Side domain.”

“Yeah, I know who you’re talking about,” she snapped, obviously uncomfortable with the way this discussion was headed.

“What if it was no accident that she was there,” he suggested, pointing at you as more questions popped up in your head. God, you hated how they talked in riddles sometimes.

Waving her hands about frantically, she rejected this notion and went on a vehement tirade, “That’s nuts! Are you even listening to yourself? You sound fucking insane, how the hell—”

Though, once again, her brother stepped in as the voice of reason, “He’s right, it could be a power play.”

“It could be many things,” Leon corrected, trying to appease the siblings. “I’m just saying we need to keep an eye out. After all, we’re only pawns in this game,” he added cynically.

“And don’t try to argue with me on that, Claire,” he preempted. “You and I both know there’s bullshit within the Anarch ranks too.”

This time, she kept her mouth shut, though her face was still livid.

“Regardless of the politics, another incident like this and we’ll be wiped by the SI, I can guarantee you that,” he stated bluntly.

“He’s got a point,” Chris established, looking over at his sister to see how she was faring.

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she let out an aggravated groan, “Ugh, fine! We’ll see if we can find any dirt on him.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Leon squeezed her shoulder in gratitude before cautioning, “It goes without saying that this stays between us.” His eyes flitted momentarily to where you stood. “Including you.”

To his satisfaction, you bowed your head slightly in acknowledgement, making a mental note to run through some points with him later on.

As the siblings prepared to set off, Claire turned around to address Leon for a final time, “Guess we’ll be seeing you around here more often.” 

Smirking at the dumbfounded expression on his face, she affirmed, “Your protegé declared the grounds as neutral… again.”

With that, they went back to join the crowd in the front of the cafe, leaving the both of you to your own devices.

“Couldn’t you have waited before making a decision like that?” Leon chided, sighing heavily as his eyes searched yours for an explanation.

Unfortunately for him, this time, you had the upper hand. “What was that about not ordering me around in my cafe?” you challenged, chuckling to yourself quietly. “Or did you already forget, Kennedy?”

He glowered at you, realizing a little too late that he’d locked himself into such a deal the night before. Luckily, he still had an ace up his sleeve. “That only works up to a certain extent. Remember, you’re still a fledgling under my care.”

“Right, the sire card,” you simmered, tired of the constant antagonistic exchanges with the man. “Anything else you wanna toss in while we’re at it?”

“Look, I don’t want to keep fighting with you,” he admitted, his gaze softening as his fingers grazed your cheek lightly.

If you were honest with yourself, that was what you longed for as well. “Then don’t give me a reason to,” you breathed, lowering your eyes as you reinstated a suitable distance from him, to avoid any further misgivings.

“I’ll see you later at home,” you whispered, your finger absently tracing the length of his arm as you walked away.

━━━━━━━━━━━

For the rest of the evening, Leon left you alone at the cafe, and though he sat at his usual spot while he was there, he left at some point halfway through without saying goodbye. On the one hand, you felt relieved that you didn’t have to speak with him further, but on the other, it smarted a little to know that he had ignored you afterwards.

The cafe was bustling with activity as usual, and it was as if you had never left. You found solace in the routine you had set yourself, helping out with the technical system, pouring drinks for guests and taking turns with your colleagues to announce bingo numbers on stage. Of all nights it was Bingo Night. Someone won a travel-sized steam iron while another snagged themselves a pastel-colored riding crop adorned with ribbons. The random prizes made it fun, as evidenced by the giggling faces of the crowd who made their way up to the stage to receive them.

You shared a smile with Patrick, sweating in the muggy air, as the house lights reflected across shiny surfaces, glitter on skin and bejeweled décolletés. The room was cast in a warm, golden glow, soft and blurred on the edges like a Rembrandt painting. Even though time slipped through your fingers like fine sand, things seemed to move in slow motion. You missed this; you missed living, just like the rest of them. Now you could only impersonate life, and watch as the rest of the world grew older while you didn’t, and your friends drop like flies, rotting in their graves while you mourn their loss.

Hot, fat tears rolled down your cheeks as you wiped them away with the back of your hand, still smiling, teeth showing through the pain. Patrick looked over at you in concern and you laughed, dismissing it as being overcome with emotion. What was it—? Your period’s coming? Too many late nights and not enough sleep? Just tiredness, you feigned. Bidding your colleagues goodnight, you trudged out into the sinking cold, already craving the comfort of being surrounded by people, both strangers and companions alike. 

You were lost in your thoughts the whole way back to Leon’s place, so much so that you didn’t even hear him greet you when you came in. It was only after the second time he had called out that you realized you were being spoken to.

“Is something bothering you?” he asked, worried that your current state of mind might have to do with how he had treated you earlier.

Collapsing onto the couch, you let your legs spread out limply over the edge, fiddling with your thumbs. It was not like you could go on social media anymore and chat with your friends on there. Not when your smartphone had been confiscated and all you had left was a semi-allowed, shitty flip phone which was mainly good enough for playing Snake.

You shook your head, but he still came round to sit beside you, holding a metallic, hexagonal contraption in his hand that he had been tinkering with at his study desk. That was when you noticed the reading glasses hanging loosely by a silver chain around his neck. The oddness of his get up momentarily distracted you from your previous troubles.

“You still need those?” you questioned, gesturing towards the dated-looking spectacles before his chest.

“These?” He raised them up, closing one eye as he squinted through the lenses, inspecting for dust. Sticking the tip of his tongue out between his teeth, he rubbed them clean with the hem of his iron-pressed white shirt. It seemed like he was used to them, and had worn them for a very long time.

“No, I don’t,” he answered plainly. “But old habits die hard.”

“They do, don’t they?” you remarked with a bitter smile. “Chasing after things that make you human?”

He sighed, understanding full well the predicament you were in and that he didn’t exactly have a remedy for it. Yet, there was no point in lying to you. 

“I do, and many others do, until we can’t anymore,” he stated. “We’re just a wolf in sheep’s clothing and inherently evil — at least, that’s what the pessimists think.”

What he had mentioned was bleak, but at the same time, you appreciated his honesty, which, in your opinion, had been lacking lately. “What do you think?” you probed, eyeing him with curiosity.

He pondered on it for a while before he spoke, “I don’t believe a word they say,” he confessed. Cradling your chin with his fingers, he lifted it towards him. “You are human enough. Don’t let anyone tell you anything different,” he instructed, brushing his thumb tenderly along your bottom lip.

You felt heat rise towards your cheeks as you actively searched for something else to grab his attention. The contraption — it was lying at his side. “Is that a puzzle box?” you managed to cough out.

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” he muttered self-consciously, handing it to you as you pulled away from each other. “Wanna give it a go?”

He looked at you expectantly as you twisted and turned the various segments of the device like a Rubik’s cube, some of which clicked into place softly, while others remained unfettered and movable. A toothy grin broke out across his face as you motioned to him for help with the remaining steps and he jumped in, placing his hands over yours to connect the remaining steps. 

Before your mind could process the closeness of your bodies and his touch, the contraption connected entirely, unlocking and unfolding itself into a flattened shape. He beamed at the object in triumph, as though he had achieved something remarkable.

“You built this yourself?” you asked, tracing its ridges, impressed with his creativity and craftsmanship.

“Yeah, I've loved puzzles since I was a child,” he explained. “Maybe that’s why I went into solving crimes, huh?” Raising his arms, he stretched himself out and yawned. 

“Anyway, it kind of reminds me of better days,” he added melancholically. “When things were simpler.”

“I would’ve liked to get to know you back then,” you said, only realizing a second later that you had uttered your thoughts out loud. You had to restrain yourself from clamping a hand over your mouth in response.

His face melted at your words, though he kept his distance, uncertain about the mixed signals you’d been sending before. “That’s nice, but you probably weren’t even born yet,” he teased.

You snorted, surprised that he still had the ability to crack you up. “How old are you even?”

“Rude,” he scolded, wagging his finger at you.

Rolling your eyes, you propped yourself up on the couch, suddenly invested in learning about the man’s age. “Come on, tell me,” you coaxed. “I promise to be on my best behavior for a day in exchange.”

“A day?” he guffawed, shaking his head. His bangs swished from side to side as his eyes crinkled in amusement. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“Hey, take it or leave it, old man,” you taunted, turning towards him with an impish smirk.

“That’s a low blow, even for you,” he tutted, pausing briefly before revealing, “'77, I was born then. Embraced when I was 24… or was it 25? It’s been a while.”

“Oh, so you’re not that old then,” you pointed out, mentally calculating that he must’ve been in his unlife for just about over 20 years.

Ever the optimist, he shrugged, unruffled by your comment. “Guess I should take that as a compliment.”

Both of you erupted into peals of laughter — the first genuine one you’ve had in a while. This was how it should’ve been. No tears, no politics, no drama, just easy-going conversations learning about each other. You continued talking a bit more about the past, how he was like, how you were like, and you contemplated if you were just clinging onto things that didn’t exist anymore. He had changed and so did you, but when you looked at a person as a whole, their histories made them who they were. You wanted to accept all of him, though a barrier still stood in your way.

“Can I trust you to always be honest with me?” you raised out of the blue in the middle of your conversation with him.

He was taken aback at first by the sudden request, wondering if there was more to it.

Scooting closer to him, you added, “Even if it’s bad, I want to know.”

It was a lot to ask of him, considering how much the Kindred world relied on secrets, games and deceit. But he knew it was important to you, especially in earning back your trust. A voice in his head, which he had grown accustomed to after being burned time and time again, warned him about betrayal. She’s no different from the others… it said in a garbled, distorted tone, like someone speaking underwater. She’ll use it against you.

Call him naive or stupid, but he went ahead anyway. You could bring him to his knees to beg, and he would still do it gladly. “I’ll try,” he whispered, aware that he was on the verge of signing his unlife away. “You can ask me anything you’d like.”

Your hand pressed lightly against his chest, smoothing out the creases in his clothes as you swept it upwards to his neck. Your caress against his weak spot caused his breath to hitch. Toying with the trace chain hugging his skin, you pried, “Did the suitor you were talking about with Claire have something to do with me?”

Right away, a shadow cast across his face and his eyes clouded over. Withdrawing your hand, you began to regret your choice of words to begin with.

[brainrotalex]

short bloodweave oneshot gents

Astarion dropped the dagger from his grip, falling to his knees in front of Cazador’s corpse. He couldn’t see through the tears that blurred his vision. He let out a scream, a heart wrenching one he had been holding for centuries. He felt weak, he felt free, he felt so much that he was worried his chest would burst open.

“Astarion!” He heard someone shout before he was engulfed in a tight hug. It took a few moments to register that it was Gale, he felt himself instinctively hug back. “It’s okay, you’ve won, you’re okay,” Gale whispered in his ear, Astarion couldn’t help but sob into his shoulder. “I’m so proud of you,” He said before adding. “I love you.”

Astarion couldn’t process the last three words, all he could do was cry. He pulled away, sniffling. “Take me home.” He turned towards the party to say, but he meant it to Gale more.

Gale helped him up, he held his hand the entire way back to camp. This was new, it was true that Astarion and Gale had their late night trysts, but it never went beyond that. They didn’t show much affection in front of the others nor how they ever confess feelings of any kind.

When they finally got back to camp, Gale lead Astarion to his tent. He fluffed up his pillows for him before tucking him in. He leaned down and kissed Astarion on the forehead as the vampire closed his eyes. “Is there anything else you need?”

Astarion opened his eyes slightly, nodding. “Stay with me?”

Gale smiled softly. “Of course, dear.” He said, crawling into the bedroll, wrapping his arm around Astarion’s waist securely.

Astarion drifted off into a dreamless sleep for the first time in ever.

-

Astarion awoke to the feeling of light kisses being placed on the back of his neck. He hummed contently. “Good morning.” Astarion said as Gale nuzzled into his neck.

“How are you feeling?”

Astarion thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know,” He started shakily. “Better, free…it’s a lot.” He chuckled sourly.

Gale nodded. “I understand, but I’m proud of you.”

Astarion remembered he had said then back at the palace, followed by three other words. “You said you loved me.”

He felt Gale stall. “Ah, I did,” He muttered, pulling back, Astarion turned over to look at him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…” Gale shook his head, looking away.

Astarion reached out his hand, taking Gale’s cheek in his palm. “I love you too.”

Gale eyes widened, he smiled brighter than Astarion had ever seen before. Gale turned his face to kiss his palm. “I love you, I love you.” He whispered into his hand, Astarion smiled.

He brought Gale in for a kiss, it was a sweet chaste one, a kiss he hoped made Gale believe they had a future together.

[angels-blade]

Rest Your Wings, Angel

[Egobworder - @knight-of-winds ] Sunlight danced off the edge of a sharpened blade, the corpses of training dummies littering the floor as Follower breathed hard, deep pushes of his lungs kicking the air out of his throat. He’s been training for hours by now. Slash after slash another dummy would fall, a lifeless corpse that never even had life to begin with! The angel was pushing himself much harder than he usually would despite all of the teachings from his father. Lessons of patience, of pacing oneself and never straining one’s body. Although all of his father’s teachings were being thrown out the window in Follower’s mind, the world around him was nothing but a blur as he raised his blade up high, preparing to strike until… A dull thump could be heard. And the cause of said thump happened to be Follower himself! The angel was lying on his side, breathing hard and digging his nails into the freshly polished floor. Everything hurt. He knew how much he was straining himself, he knew that this would hurt the moment his body gave out. Although he hadn’t cared until now. Gods above, why did he let this happen? He closed his eyes, wings folding in on themselves. He could just lay here and rest, couldn’t he? Let the minutes pass away until he would eventually fall asleep from exhaustion. His eyelids felt heavy, his breathing slowly evening out as he tried to relax himself. His ears tried to hone in on anything around him. The gentle breeze, the birds chirping and… Footsteps approaching? His feathers fluffed up only briefly before a familiar voice rang out. “Follower! Are you around here somewhere?” Ego? What was he doing here? Gods above, he couldn’t let his boyfriend see him like this! Follower let out a small chirp as he tried to push himself up into a sitting position. But he couldn’t, his arms felt like jelly, and he flopped back down to the floor and let out a pained chirp. And said chirp alerted the same demon he was so desperately trying NOT to look weak in front of! Ego came running over, his smile dropping instantly the moment he noticed the weak and tired Follower on the floor. The canine knight hurried over and dropped down to his knees, hooking an arm under Follower to start lifting him up. “Follower?! What happened? Are you alright? By the name of Windforce, I will-” “Egobworder. Please.” Ego shut up instantly, tail pushing between his legs as he quietly continued to help Follower, getting the angel into a sitting position before sitting himself down beside his boyfriend, holding one of the angel’s hands in worry. The silence fell over the two, only being broken by the faint chirping of birds and Follower’s breathing slowly evening out. Silence, comfortable but uneasy. Ego gently squeezed Follower’s hand, interlocking his fingers with the angel’s talons before he finally decided to speak up. “Are you alright, dear?” Follower was quiet, his head tilting back slightly. He didn't really know what to say. Sure, he wasn’t okay! He really wasn’t! He’s been feeling stressed and uneasy recently but… He didn’t know why. He tried talking to his father about it, telling the deity he was feeling stressed and upset, but not even the comforting words of Illumina could help. Hell! Even the deity himself was struggling to figure out what was wrong with his own son, which saddened both of them honestly.

Follower tried heading off to his uncle’s temple as well. Sometimes a visit to Ghostwalker’s would help him during moments like this. Getting to walk through the silence of the graveyard, getting to watch his uncle work away at making the utmost perfect graves for the spirits to lie in was… Oddly peaceful for him, even if some would consider him strange for finding such peace in death. “Follower?” Ego’s voice broke the angel from his thoughts, his head wings flapping a little as he turned his head to look at the other knight. Oh how his heart broke when his blank purplish-white eyes gazed upon his lover. Ego looked worried, oh so very worried. Follower didn’t like that look, he didn’t like knowing Ego was upset over him. He leaned forward and hugged onto his boyfriend, closing his eyes and chirping softly as he felt Ego hug him back. This is what Follower needed, this felt nice. Did he really just need to be held? Did he just need someone to hold him and worry about for his stresses to slowly fade? He didn’t know. And quite frankly he didn’t care to figure it out as he buried his face into Ego’s neck, letting out little content chirps and coos as he relaxed in his lover’s arms, feeling Ego slowly move his hand up to one of his wings, fingers moving through his feathers and adjusting the ones that gotten out of whack. Follower really only allowed his father to touch and fix up his wings, but the way Ego so gently fixed his feathers. The way Follower felt a droplet of love with every touch of Ego’s warm fingers against his fluffy feathers just made him warm, made him feel like he was on cloud nine. Ego in general just made him feel that way. The way Ego was attentive towards him, how Ego always seemed ready and willing to drop whatever he was doing to come to his aid, how Follower couldn’t help but smile in his presence. Ego was his everything. The other knight may’ve not been the first demon he’s fallen for, but he knew Ego would be his last. The last and only love he’d ever yearn for. The others didn’t work out. One was already taken by an alternate version of himself and the Ego of his own world shattered him into the smallest pieces he could be. But this Ego? Oh how he loved him so much. So very very much. The angel couldn’t stop himself from adjusting his head, pressing a kiss onto the other knight’s cheek, tail feathers wagging as Ego’s tail began to wag as well, a smile pulling onto the lips of the teal demon. “Do you want to talk about what happened, birdie?” Ego’s question caused the purple demon to flush darkly, his face going back into the other’s neck as his wings folded in on themselves. “Stressed. Unsure as to why.” Short and clipped response, Ego was used to this. He hummed and patted Follower’s back, bringing the other closer in his hold. “Does me being here help at all?” “Yes.” Ego giggled, tail patting against the ground as he kissed the side of Follower’s head. “Do you want to head off your chambers, birdie?” Follower chirped gently and nodded, slowly getting up with the help of his lover. The canine knight locked arms with him, flashing Follower that usual charming smile of his. Follower couldn’t help himself from smiling as well, his smaller and shyer as the pair made their way out of the training area. “Follower?” “Yes?” “I love you. Please never forget that, alright?” “I will not. I love you as well, Egobworder.”

Both knights giggled a little as each other, making their way into the deity of light’s temple and vanishing down a hallway towards the angel’s sleeping chambers. Follower knew what he was in for. And he was excited to experience every moment of it.

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

The Smile of Misfortune

Alone by the lake, the girl watches the moon. It glitters against the rippling water, swaying in a grand waltz. The night is cool, wind ruffling the trees, cicadas and fireflies abuzz. 

Cold water laps at her sneakers. If there had been light, the water would have been stained. But it is not, and so the truth is hidden. How fortunate for the girl. 

Her fingers dig into fluffed up soil, dirt and worse caked beneath her nails. It is almost the witching hour, she thinks to herself. What magic shall she see then? Centaurs? Fairies darting between the trees? Some ancient god of the forest meandering down a deer track?

She lies back, staring up at the stars. How unfortunate of them to be trapped up there, she thinks. How unfortunate of her to be trapped down here. She smiles a secret smile, thinking of misfortunes.

They say there is a star for each person who has died. The girl searches and searches, but she cannot find a new twinkle in the sky. They lie, but she does not mind that. She rather likes lies, as a matter of fact.

Her clothes are a mess, encrusted with filth. When she returns to her little cabin, no amount of scrubbing will save them. She shall have to burn it all. The girl thinks that is a shame.

Oh, but what does it matter? She laughs, a deep bubbling sound that rushes through her chest and escapes her mouth like a pistol's bullets, splashing into the air like blood's fine splatter, soaking into the very earth and staining it blood red. The sound reflects what the light will not, the girl thinks to herself.

She gets up from her seat. The upturned soil is flattened there. Regrettable that she had not thought to preserve the grass, but no one could be perfect. At least, not by telling the truth.

The girl does not look behind as she walks away, skipping through the meadow. If she had, she might have seen the fairies, red and blue against the darkness of the trees, and the siren that was no fairy at all.

She hums cheerfully to herself, trailing her fingers against the weathered bark of the trees. The fireflies dart out of her way as she passes, ever-wary of the great beast that brings death. It only serves to make her spring more boisterous.

She stops by her fateful clearing. It's her favourite, always flowering and fruitful. The trees still slightly wet from her previous fun, and the girl makes a note to bring a bucket. Darkness only lasted so long, after all, and she had no wish to go out with the dawn like a vampire. 

Her cabin is deep in the woods, isolated and lonely. It is no place for a girl to live, and she considers moving out. It would be fun to see more of the world, she thinks. Perhaps she could sail a boat out upon the deep blue sea, where secrets sunk like corpses, never to be seen again. Perhaps she could stay in the suburbs, the home of a thousand prosaic serial killers. Perhaps-

The sirens finally reach her ears, and the girl startles. The witching hour is over, she thinks. It is no longer evil's time.

She runs.

Behind her, she can hear the pounding of feet against the forest floor. There is a chopper overhead, cutting the air up with the same ease of a butcher preparing a hunk of meat. The girl thinks that perhaps she might make it, though her breath comes in great shuddering gasps. The girl wonders if this is how the pigeons feel when she chases them through the forest, if this is how the ants cry out as she crushes them. The girl knows she will not make it.

And so she turns around and raises her hands in the air. She knows how to deal with the Fae. Do not give them her true name, do not take what is offered, do not meet their gaze. She smiles the smile of the misfortunate, and curses the flashlights they brought with them.

They scan the clearing, light betraying her precious secrets with the red of sin. Cold iron burns her skin in clinking cuffs, and the sirens wail their song all the while. 

She bemoans the cold water that has lapped at her sneakers, for it has stained her to the bone,  and the truth is unhidden.

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch

@tragedycoded, @finickyfelix, @urnumber1star, @ratedn, @ramwritblr

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west, @differentnighttale

@evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms, @xenascribbles

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog

@riveriafalll, @the-golden-comet, @rascaronii, @trippingpossum, @real-fragments

@unrepentantcheeseaddict, @the-inkwell-variable

(Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[snoopledrooplecheesedoodle]

Day 10: Rebirth: Sabrina

Couldn't find any picture I liked so here have Sabrina being a cutie pie with Haunter. You have a Pokémon partner which is a Vileplume Bangkai (Indonesian word that can translate to flower and corpse). You are not a trainer.

TW: Sabrina is a mixture of the anime and game, mind games, kidnapping, cruelty (not towards the reader), don't really like this one as my idea wasn't super solid I'm just simping without a plan

Saffron City was alive with the holiday season as people and pokémon alike were buzzing with holiday cheer. You and your loyal Vileplume Bangkai walk side by side in the bustling streets.

You were no trainer, but everybody should have at least one pokémon with them for safety. Your raised Bangkai from a small Oddish and he was very loyal to you. "Vileplume!" Bangkai said eyes sparkling at the poffin stand, before turning to you with eager eyes. You giggle at how motivated by food Bangkai was.

"Alright Bangkai but no more until Christmas, can't have you getting too chubby." You grin as your Vileplume huffs the scarf you put on your beloved pokémon whips in the air. You wonder how Bangkai became so dramatic (like parent like child). The man at the poffin stand smiles as you walk up to him. "Hello valued customer, are you looking to buy a poffin for your pokémon?" You smile and gesture to Bangkai who was trying to grab one off the table.

"Yes, I'd like to get a couple poffins for my Vileplume." The stand owner's eyes shine with admiration at your gluttonous grass-poison pokemon. "My word that is by far the most beautiful Vileplume I've ever seen, are you a pokémon breeder by chance?"

Bangkai puffs spores out of its flower with pride, twirling in an arrogant dance. "No, I'm just a regular citizen of Saffron, Bangkai just keeps me company." The poffin seller visibly deflates. "What a shame I was hoping I could get a pokémon as beautiful as yours." Yeah, that's enough ego fluffing for your Vileplume.

"How much do I owe you?" You ask reaching into your pocket for money. You have a basket of poffins shoved into your hands. "No please take it on the house, for your perfect pokémon." You wanted to argue but Bangkai huffed and shouted an impatient "Vileplume!", signifying he wanted his food now. "Okay Bangbang, but no more before dinner." You toss your pokemon the Sinnoh region treat which the flower pokemon eagerly gobbles up. What are you going to do with this rascal?

Sabrina hid her identity with a cloak as the successful gym leader/model didn't wish to be recognized. People were something Sabrina still despised as they were all so shallow. They admired Sabrina for being a powerful psychic and a pretty face. The only creatures that didn't scrutinize her like that were pokémon.

Sabrina felt for her Alakazam's poke ball which moved under her touch as if he sensed her distress. The gym leader sighs brushing her dark locks behind her ear, she should return to her gym. The woman turns to go until she sees a sight that stops her heart. A vileplume and human walking so happily by each other's side. Sabrina must be imagining things as most humans don't care for their pokémon as anything other than pets or weapons. Using her telepathic powers, she read your vileplume's mind.

She could hear the pokemon's thoughts on you and was stunned. How could a pokemon hold so much love and respect for a human? Sabrina stared slack jawed as your pokemon hangs onto your arm playfully, shooting toxic spores away from you. Could you be someone that Sabrina could trust? She must know more about you the mysterious resident of Saffron City and your companion.

The next morning a firm knock on your door wakes you from your sleep. What a shame you were having such a pleasant dream. Bangkai grumbles sleepily and turns away from the noise, leaving you to have to go answer the door. You grumble and stretch walking to the door only to be greeted by a stranger in a white coat. "Hello." The stranger steps back in disgust, did you really look that bad in the morning?

"I am Jason the psychic and I'm here to extend an invitation to the Saffron City gym on behalf of Sabrina." Wait you were invited to the pokémon gym as a non-trainer? By the allusive gym leader/ actress Sabrina herself. This seemed too nonsensical to be real, you must still be dreaming. You yawn and move to close the door. "Well Jason tell 'Sabrina' I'm not coming." Before you could close the door, the door was forced open by a strong force.

"Listen here you twerp, you should be grateful that Sabrina even gives you the time of day. Most of us trainers are treated like dirt so get ready to go or else." You were pissed at this guy threatening you, but he was a psychic pokemon trainer a person with pokemon ready for battle, while you're a regular citizen and Bangkai is not trained to battle. Which leads Jason's coercion to work. "Alright, let me get dressed." Jason seems satisfied with your cooperation as he smiles. "Thank you don't take long, also bring your Vileplume too. Sabrina has taken an interest in it too."

Just what was Sabrina planning for you?

Entering the gym, you see multiple trainers in white coats practice harnessing their psychic powers. Some being more successful than others, Bangkai wandered around looking at the people in awe. Your Vileplume rarely interacted with trainers much less other pokemon.

Jason rolls his eyes at your awe and confusion at the new surroundings. He approaches very elaborate double doors and opens them with a flourish. On the other side is a long hallway with a throne where a beautiful woman with long flowing hair that was such a dark green it was almost black. While her face was bored her pinkish red eyes grow a sparkle of life when they spot you.

"Very good you're not totally useless, shut the door behind you." Jason spluttered at the gym leader's blunt response. "Sabrina I-I wanted to talk to you about something for a while. I-" The man was frozen in place screaming in terrible pain as a blue outline glowed around him. While Jason was a jerk you felt bad for the poor man.

"I don't speak to subordinates unless I wish to, you are excused Jason." You then see the poor man stumble to the door limping in pain. You jump when the doors shut leaving just you, Bangkai, and Sabrina.

"Come closer I wish to observe you up close." The flat monotone voice pulls you like you were hypnotized. "Plume!" Bangkai pulls on your outfit with a worried look. You stop and bend down to Bangkai's level. "It's okay buddy we're just visiting, when we leave, I'll take you to the pokecafe so you can play with the owner's Jigglypuff." Your Vileplume brightens once more, jumping on you excitedly at the word "play" and "pokemon".

You look to see Sabrina looking on at your interaction with Bangkai with interest. "You're Vileplume seems content with you." You grin sheepishly as you attempt to calm down the hyper poison type. "Bangkai's my best friend, he's been with me since he was a little Oddish. He's a stinker for sure but I love him all the same." Bangkai jumps for joy and exclaims a happy "Vilplume!"

Sabrina stares at you for a moment before nodding. "I would like to battle your Vilplume if you don't mind." You freeze with terror and step in front of Bangkai protectively. "Bangbang isn't a trained pokemon, I don't want him getting hurt." Sabrina's frown deepens. "I wasn't asking, I'm challenging you. It's common etiquette to accept a gym leader's challenge in her own gym." You sweat nervously, you known Sabrina specializes in psychic types, which are super effective against poison types like Bangkai.

You look at your Vileplume who looks at you with a new determined look. You've never seen Bangkai look so serious before, perhaps its worth a try. "Alright, I accept your challenge." Sabrina smirks before standing up from her chair. "Excellent, however I'd like to make a wager." You are further confused what could you possibly have that Sabrina would want. "Okay what are you betting?" Sabrina looks you up and down. "Loser must do whatever the winner commands." You blanch at this odd bet; she's expecting for you to become her toy.

"Okay seems fair, I'll do it." Sabrina's eyes glow with a new emotion you have yet to see on anyone. Sabrina guides you to the battlefield where you stand with Bangkai on one side, Sabrina on the other. "Mr. Mime come out." Sabrina tosses a pokeball which opens revealing the creepy mime pokemon in all its glory. Alright should be fine. You rack your brain for pokemon moves a grass poison type can use. Sabrina doesn't wait as her Mr. Mime use psybeam. "Bangkai dodge!" Your Vileplume jumps out of the way.

Sabrina sends psychic attack after psychic attack which you tell your Vileplume to dodge, hoping to just tire out her pokemon. Sabrina glares before returning her Mr. Mime to its pokeball. "Alakazam win this battle!" Oh no, not her famed Alakazam. You've heard nightmare stories about how ruthless this pokemon was towards their team.

Sabrina looks at her Alakazam who nods and instead of attacking your pokemon it sends a power psychic attack your way. Was this woman crazy, people could die if hit by a powerful pokemon! You duck praying the attack misses you, but hear something odd. "Plume!" Bangkai jumps in the way and shoots spores at the incoming attack destroying the ground instead of you.

"Bangkai...you saved me." Bangkai turns to you and nods protectively standing in front of you. Sabrina's Alakazam teleports forwards but Bangkai uses Petal blizzard which stops the Alakazam from getting closer. Your Vileplume uses moves you never thought possible, some even hitting the Alakazam. This is it you might win your first pokémon battle. However, Sabrina was prepared as Alakazams Future Sight hits Bangkai knocking the poor pokemon down.

"Plume..." The Vileplume weakly croaks out, that's it you were ending this. "Sabrina, I forfeit just please don't hurt Bangkai anymore." Sabrina lets a cruel grin cover her face. "Very well as the winner I now get to command you to do anything I want." You flinch hoping she would just hurt you and end this terrible moment.

"Kiss me." What? Did you hear the gym leader correctly? Sabrina narrows her eyes at your hesitancy, a powerful force brings you forward till your face was near hers. "Kiss me or I won't release you." You shiver at her power but do as she wants planting your lips softly on her own. You try to pull back quickly but the Psychic type trainers wraps her arms around you pulling you further into her.

When she's had her fill, she parts causing you to gasp for air. "As I thought you are perfect for me." You stand confused and scared. "Okay Sabrina I'm going to go to the pokemon center to heal Ban-" You're stopped by the beauty's psychic powers. "No you're not, an assistant of mine can do that. I command you to come sit on my lap." You are force to come sit on the emotionless woman's lap as she strokes your head. "You are now my partner, and you will be living with me from now on. Disobey me and I will hurt your Vileplume so bad that he'll wish for death." You stare at the pink eyed woman in fear, how could your city's gym leader be so cruel?

"Alright, just please don't hurt my buddy." Sabrina nods before tilting your chin up. "Tell me you love me." Afraid of the consequences you stammer an I love you out. Sabrina seems to genuinely smile for the first time since you've seen her.

"Good, now kiss me again."

Sabrina's ideas were reborn as she no longer hated all humans, you were human and she loved you dearly.

This is slightly longer than expected, I kind of want to make this into a full fic. If anyone wants a full Yandere Sabrina fic with Bangkai, let me know. Also the full fic will be better fleshed out and Sabrina will be a bit more sympathetic (she's still going to threaten everyone around you to get you to fall in line).

[char-chats]

Insecurities

SFW (gender neutral)

CW: slightly hateful words

Genya:

You've always doubted yourself when it came to most things you felt weak, useless, and like an outcast. You just felt like every time you tried to help you made it worse.

When you told your parents that you were thinking about joining the demon slayer corpse they laughed In your face telling you , you'd die within a couple seconds.

This didn't stop you! Sure at times you've thought about giving up, but proving everyone wrong and seeing the look on there faces to see that you've succeed in your goal kept you going

When you met Genya you almost immediately fell for him. You really also really admired Genya.

He was so strong, polite, kind and tough, so when he confessed to you all nervous and blushy, you where excited, confused, happy , so many emotions all at once. He was yours and you where his.

Genya took care for you, you loved it and hated it. It made you feel weak, at some point in the day you and Genya were walking through the town when Genya stopped to buy something from this mini store.

As you where waiting outside you over heard a group of women and men talking about how Genya looks to good to be with you, to strong, tall to better to be with someone like you, weak

You felt all lump in your throat form and your eyes blur as tears form. That's when Genya stepped out smiling but quickly changed when he saw your sad expression.

"What's wrong?" He asked worriedly you shook your head and looked away "let's talk at home" he nodded his head and grabbed your hand running his callous thumb over your hand. So you two walk home in silence.

The walk home seems so long but when you finally arrived at your shared home and sat down on your bed ...and finally letting it all out

You broke down letting all the years of built of sadness out Genya was shocked and quickly went to comfort you, sitting next to you and wrapping his arms around you.

"What's wrong?! Did someone say something to you? " you shook your head taking a deep breath in and looking down.

"I.. I feel so useless all the fucking time.. Like I'm this little weak thing that can't do anything right... Your so much better than me, your stronger, tougher, just ... Better.. I look fucking pathetic standing next to you"

Genya cupped his hands on your red cheeks and looked at your teary eyes " [Name] I love you so much, you're not useless at all... How could you think that. Being useful doesn't always mean being strong or strength in general. It could mean mentality, you are so sweet and give amazing advice.

You listen to me and the others and really help us get through our issues.I admire you so much... I don't know what we'd do without you." Hearing those words were all you need to hear, that's all you wanted to hear, and you finally got to hear it.

You looked at Genya and hugged him tightly crying even harder soaking his shirt. Genya gently hugged you resting his chin on your head, rocking you back and forth slowly.

When finally the tears stopped Genya lifted his chin off your head, cupping your cheeks and kissing your forehead "come on let's go make some food, I'm hungry" you chuckled and nodded your head taking your hand into his.

Muichiro:

You grew up in a household where you had to be the highest achiever. You've always felt as if you where nothing as if you have achieved nothing in your life.

You had to be the best at everything, not good but the best of the best. You didn't even want to join the demon slayer corpse, in fact you where scared shitless. You just wanted your parents to be proud of you ,so you joined anyway.

And when you came back home from your training, all you got was "so when are you going to become a Hashira?" That's okay you could do better and you would! You could do it! So you pushed your self.

You first met Muichiro because you applied to be his Tsuguko and he accepted. You and him would often talk, well mostly you. Laying down on the grass and staring up at the fluffy clouds. He would listen and put his thoughts here and there, and sometimes would laugh. He enjoyed spending time with you and so did you.

He was so hard working, logical and a genius he became a Hashira within two months at 14, you felt like such an idiot for taking a year to finish your training then another year to become an official Hashira.

So when you gathered up the courage to confess to him you thought he would look at you blankly and walk away. But instead he smiled and the took your hand into his and said "I feel the same way [Name]". It seemed like time had stopped and you felt so many emotions all at once. Mainly happiness

You and Muichiro where sitting in the estates garden, you where talking about how you thought how beautiful the flowers where and all the different types of flowers, while Muichiro nodded and smiled.

That's when you spotted two demon slayers not to faraway looking at you. "Hey [Name] I'm gonna go get a snack I'm a little hungry, would you like anything?" you shook your head no "okay, I won't be to long" he smiled.

You looked down at your hands still feeling the gaze of the two slayers. "Hey, you're [Name] the new Hashira, aren't you ?"You looked up to see the two demon slayers now standing in front of you.

"Oh, um yeah" they both looked at each other and laughed, you furrowed your eye brows "Is something wrong? Er-". "Oh come on, do you really think Muichiro actually likes you?"," Yeah, he only said yes because he feels bad for you, I mean look at him he's better looking and he became a Hashira in two months. Then there's you.. Two years it's fucking pathetic, you'll never be up to his level".

Then they walked away, you where at a lost for words what the fuck just happened.. I mean what the fuck...I mean they were just demon slayers not Hashiras..But..Maybe they where right.. You'll never be good enough, never be up to his standards. It was all to much and you let the tears fall.

"[Name?....] You looked up quickly whipping away your tears, "what happened?" He sat beside you gently taking your hands into his. Oh no you felt tears at the brim of your eyes again "come on talk to me... I'm listening"

You took in a deep breath "I will never be up to your level no matter how hard I try.. You're just so good looking.. And a genius over all I mean, you became a Hashira in two months and it took me two years!

You looked down in shame not wanting to see his reaction to this. What if he thought you were stupid for saying all this. Where you too much for him? Did you say too much? There were such "what if's" going through your mind.

Bu your thoughts where all silenced when he lifted your chin to make you look and him. And took your hands into his and said "Honestly.. I thought you where the one too good for me, I admire your resilience, I don't know how you do it sometimes. Me taking two months while it took you two years doesn't mean anything. Just because you took longer then me doesn't mean your lesser than me. It's okay to take longer then someone else, I can be good at fighting but you can be way better at it, we all have different strengths and weaknesses. "

Yeah. All you needed was words of kindness, caring words. He cared and it showed he loved you he truly did. He thought no less of you in fact he thought more of you. You then leaned in and kissed his left cheek "thank you, Mui" you said with a smile

Muichiro cheeks turned bright pink and looks away "yeah no problem.. " he trailed off. "W-well, I tried to learn some origami want to come and see?..." You shook your head yes happily and he got up and held out his hand, so you took his hand walking to his place.

[sebbiesolace]

[Corvus left the room and found a dead expendable who had been killed by an angler, and dragged the corpse to where Sebastian was. He offered it to the other experiment, his feathers were still fluffed up in warning.]

“Here Seb. I found this for you.”

(OOC: Corvus is very worried about him! I think Sebastian needs a snickers, your not you when your hungry/j)

[It quickly sunk its hook-like claws into the Expendable, yanking the corpse towards him, and away from Corvus, blood being forced out around the puncture wound- Pulse? His own? The body? Teeth flesh taste hungry so hungry alive? dead? Didnt matter. Doesnt matter.]

[.... Well, at least he wasn't starving anymore....]

"... NEVER. bring me a CORPSE again."

[... He sure as hell wasn't grateful, though.]

[witchofthesouls]

I love your thought of Tarn being fascinated by the tiny invaders in his quarters. Mech goes so hard on sparkling proofing his room. It actually starts looking like normal quarters. The First Editions and other Creepy Stuff™️ are carefully packed up and stored away. Tarn starts reading the convolutedly obtained sparklin guides and rigorously prepares the room to be Sparlking Safe Deceptacon™️.

Plus if the DJD alies with Deathsaurus, Deathsarus has a very different reaction to Tarn's room. Mech immediately melts into a cooing mess at the bitties. Immediately wants to spoil the sparklings.

His room is clear to begin with. Tarn has a walk-in closet that's absolutely Dedicated to Megatron. Tarn wants to make sure it's a well-kept and clean area, after all. Plus, there are too many limited editions to keep out in the open, especially the early renditions of Towards Peace upon miners' corpses.

Tarn does get into newspark guides and bitlet development. You and Nickel do smack datapads and run away with recovered chips because, well, Functionism. Because Tarn is adamant about it, you and Nickel do cobble up a learning guide that's geared to these bitties. (Of course, there's other guides for other frames because Tarn got interested. The nerd.)

It leads to more blankets, padding, and pillows, which kicks your nesting instinct into unsuspressable overdrive. Tarn is getting fascinated by the entire process since you dedicate all your energy into it: deeply entwining your own biosignature into the materials, getting it into a proper placement, reshaping a nest-like structure, fluffing up everything, and keeping the three newsparks inside the middle.

And your considerable wells. You're pumping sparkling fuel and stocking the medbay and the habsuite, just in case. Cubes of very pale pink Energon lines the shelves and in a neat stack in one of his closets. It doesn't slosh easily like the fuel he's used to. It's thick and viscous, leaving a film on a partial filled container where he can see granules of curious substances.

He will never admit how his spark turns to mush and oozes out of its chamber when a blind, soft-plating tiny thing grabs his pinky. Or how he locks his entire frame when the split-sparks settle upon his chassis, cozy and comforted by his spark. Or how he tries not to grind into you during recharge, how heated you've become with the second carriage, especially around your middle.

If the DJD ever joins with Deathsaurus, then it's going to be awkward with all the rumors and misunderstandings running around. No one has ever seen you, so some think the Witnessed Acts documentation was a hoax or a prank. But not Deatbsaurus, he can smell the faint, lingering sweetness of sparkling fuel on Tarn.

At first. Deathsaurus is extremely leery because what kind of mech would willingly pledge their spark to Tarn? But then, there's no sign of them anywhere. It really doesn't help that he can vaguely understand Primal Venacular and makes a huge blunder from Vos' and Kaon's quiet exchanges.

The sheer pandemonium that will happen when Deathsaurus tears through the ship, thinking the worst, but really, you're just too exhausted with the second carriage. It's taking a huge toll on your frame, so you're basically nesting most of your time as you care for the newsparks with a couple of others checking on you, like Nickel, Kaon, and Vos since the gunformer enjoys your mental exercises on the dearly departed Deadzone.

[lintujoki]

Silence fell in the musty, dirty corridors of Subterranean-Shunning Grounds. To those who have recently come here, it would seem unusual if they had the strength to experience something other than bone-chilling horror. The whole body were shaking, the heart was like a drum, even for those who were not here for the first time - the feelings experienced by each Omen during the next "raid". The voices of the lepers, often howling in agony and weakness, fell silent. Perhaps their bodies will soften in the drains, not yet picked up by anyone. It's a matter of time, soon the accursed will rise from hiding, and if they don't have time, then the rats will "take care" of the corpses and will eat enough. Both used the dead for the same purpose, but some of the Omens said that it's better to be eaten by their fellows than by rodents. However, when the time comes, it won't matter.

Mohg opened the door, which had begun to decompose from moisture, and looked around warily, craning his neck. There was no one outside, only the blood, which covered the walls and floor in wide splashes, imprinted in the memory of what had happened, as if it was still happening.

"No one" - the child concluded.

- Put something under the door. I think they'll be coming out soon too.

Mohg nodded and placed a beam that had broken off from an unnamed structure between the handles. This would not save them from the attackers, probably Morgott just wished that the room would become a secluded place for the two of them at least for a while and no strangers would disturb the peace.

- Morgott... are you okay? - Mohg could clearly see his brother's anxiety. Worried, he always tried to hide, at least ostensibly, just by pressing himself against the wall, besides, his tail was quivering and fluffed up.

- Did they hurt you? - Mohg continued, sitting down carefully.

When the twins were smaller, they were more successful at hiding from the Omenkillers - they could even hide in a box. With age, it became more difficult - pipes, lower sewer levels are used, which can hardly be called safe, but even meeting with a huge crayfish seemed a better option than with ruthless killers. At least, the first ones don't always attack.

- It's all right - Morgott said in a half-whisper, as if he was still waiting for a trap.

- Don't you need my help? If so, just tell me...

- No, no, please - Morgott closed his lips and grimaced.

Knowing perfectly well what was meant by the words "my help", he didn't want his brother to hurt himself again because of him.

- This is not required now. I'm just... I'm sorry you had to take the risk because of me. At least one of us has to move on, and you know who.

This time, Morgott was unlucky to be caught by the Omenkiller. The feeling of a rough grip on the hair still did not leave, sending nerve impulses. An attempt to hit with a spiked tail turned out to be a failure - they held him tightly and pulled on themselves, as if trying to break his neck, he couldn't even really move.

Perhaps he would have bled to death by now, and his horns would have been chopped off by grotesque weapons made from it, if Mohg hadn't helped. At that moment, his own skin was the least of his worries, and Morgott's words made his chest tighten. What's the point of surviving if he's left alone?

- Stop.

Mohg squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

- I can't listen to this.

- Forgive me.

Thoughts gnawing at the mind, about how he don't want to be a burden, and that even a deathbed fear would be more merciful than an endless feeling of worthlessness and defenselessness - probably it's all from a lot of anxiety. Not something to depress Mohg who is already forced to bear a huge responsibility.

- I'll figure something out, we'll figure it out. Whatever it takes, I promise you won't stay here. We will be together, happy, I know!

Sometimes Morgott wondered if his twin was convinced of this himself or if he was just comforting. "Happiness for Omens" sounded like something magical. If earlier Morgott liked to dream with his brother about the world they would create together, and, overcoming a painful weakness, painted this fairy tale on the walls of the sewer, now everything seemed like a fantasy. He wanted to believe it, but reality dictated otherwise.

- Morgott... - usually, "my dearest" was added after. Mohg stopped, touching Morgott's cheeks and tousled strands with his fingers.

In response, the twin timidly stretched out his arms and hugged his brother with the tail, silently expressing acceptance and a desire to protect.

Nothing else brought such joy. Flames seemed to light up in Mohg's eyes, and it was getting warmer inside. He looked into twin's eternally sad golden-honey eyes and froze, stroking the skin with his thumbs. Morgott is a true enchantment, the embodiment of the purity and strength of life of their blood ties. "What's the point of being and fighting if I'm left alone?" - It echoed again.

[letiel]

Hope - Werewolf AU

The fire had dwindled down to embers by the time Ty got up to leave. Werewolves had an advantage in the middle of the night, but wisdom had abandoned them the moment they had set out on this impossible task.

“No, Evie, you should stay. It may take weeks to find him, and we don’t know what he’ll be like.”

“That’s why I’m going.”

She had stared right into his soul and watched him every step of the way. Evie had finally fallen asleep sitting up, propped against the saddles on the ground, watching and waiting for Ty to try something like this. Her strength was different than theirs and mercy didn’t belong in the wild.

He stepped around her and retrieved his sword. There was silver inlaid along the blade, shiny and cold and ready to bite, waiting in its sheath until it was time. It was a smaller version of its brother, another worn and loved weapon, carefully maintained by its now turned master. Ty grabbed it too. He slung the bigger sword over his shoulder and his own at his waist.

It didn’t feel right, carrying them both. The weight was uncomfortable and the straps too loose. The blade at his side was an old friend, an extension of himself, but the other was a burden. It was a stark and brutal reminder of his loss and Ty felt his heart churn in his stomach.

It must be done.

He turned and stepped around the fire to crouch beside Khasar. His beloved younger brother was tense in his sleep, dreaming and hurting. The injury that the wolf had left him was still festering, even with Evie’s careful ministrations and expertise. It was stress and fear and the horrible ticking of a clock counting down to an end with every moonrise.

“He’s still in there! I heard him call to me!”

Ty reached for the emblem hanging around his neck. It was a simple thing, just a cheap hunter’s mark that Evie had made for the three of them. Khasar had a matching one. So had Kai. He gently brushed the hair from Khasar’s face and tucked him in. Then he pulled his cloak tighter around himself and hurried into the dark.

They had been tracking the wolf for days after the attack, following the trail of corpses and rumors. There were the obvious signs and the subtle ones that only an experienced eye may have noticed. Ty knew they were very close when they stopped for the night but had kept it to himself. Khasar and Evie weren’t ready for this. They couldn’t possibly understand.

“I saw it in his eyes, Ty. YOU know him. You KNOW he wouldn’t stop fighting! He is still in there!”

Ty moved faster on his own. He left behind the heaviest parts of his armor, emptied his pockets, and forewent a pack of essentials. There was no need for such things.

Little tufts of fur, trampled leaves, the edge of a print…

It took about two hours and then Ty dropped into a dried riverbed downwind from a mass of fur and teeth. Kai was a hulking thing. A giant of a man made for a giant of a beast, hulking and tattered. His thick and wild coat, black as the fabric of night, failed to hide the lines of his muscles down his back and the bumps of his spine at the peak of his height. The rough of his mane was patchy and fluffed in every direction, nearly the length of his long, triangular ears that rested prick at the sides. His deep chest and broad shoulders giving way to long arms, reaching to the ground to paw with jagged claws on fingers twisted between the man he had been and the wolf he was. Kai’s tail flicked along the pebbles, gliding back and forth, collecting debris in the fur as he crouched, distracted by something at his feet.

Ty pulled his sword from its sheath and took a long breath, just watching for a moment the shuffling and heaving, the toss of Kai’s head. Droplets of blood and the coarse fur of a deer spattered in every direction.

The opening was there. It wouldn’t be hard to drive the silver adorned steel between his ribs, to slide between the bone to sever his heartstrings and put Kai out of his misery. Instead, Ty dragged his foot across the riverbed, scattering pebbles with little clinks and splashes as they scattered across stone and into isolated puddles.

Kai’s head spun around in an instant. His ears went flat and beady eyes glowed faintly in the dark, the glimmer of gold that tempts greedy men. Moonlight glittered on bared, pearl teeth, and shone on onyx claws. The deer all but forgotten as Kai turned and rose to a greater height to glare down at the Hunter.

“I owe you this much,” Ty mumbled and spun the sword before pulling it up to his face, held in both hands and sighting down the blade, waiting for the wolf to make the first move. He was already starting to shake.

Kai’s ears flicked forward and then flattened and the fur on his back and shoulders stood on end. He growled low and drooled when he recognized the glimmer of the blade.

“No! Don’t kill him!” Khasar yelled through his pain and Ty’s swing fell short, the tip of weapon glancing over Kai’s brow and cheek.

The injury was slow to heal, the silver doing its work.

“What are you waiting for?” Ty asked a little louder and shifted in place and then Kai was racing at him, all feral ferocity and animal instinct.

The first clash was sword on teeth and then Kai was backing away, circling, and only racing in with experimental jabs and swipes. They were easily parried.

At first Ty thought maybe Kai was still suffering fatigue from prior wounds. Not once had Ty ever beaten Kai in a fight, whether serious or for training. He was too warrior-coded with a feel for battle that Ty had once described as dancing, the flow of a fight as natural as breathing.

This was different.

The wolf’s movements were smooth and deliberate but slow and telegraphed. Kai could easily overpower him but was choosing not to, so Ty moved to offense, to force his hand. He pushed Kai back along the riverbed with every nimble swing, but Kai parried them all until they broke apart and started circling each other once more.

The shaking was worse, and Ty reached over to hold his own wrist to steady himself, never taking his eyes off of Kai, the monster, this beast that had been his oldest and truest friend. This abomination that had been his partner.

“That’s it then?” he yelled, and Kai’s ears pricked forward. “After everything we’ve been through, this is all the fight you have in you?” Kai shuffled in place and Ty felt a flicker of doubt that he immediately buried with anger and duty. No one retained themselves after the change. His friend was already dead.

He shouted and ran at Kai, swinging more widely, slower and stronger and the wolf moved away, always backing up or dodging until the sting of the edge cut into his arm and he howled with the pain. A massive paw lashed out and smashed into the sword, ripping it from Ty’s hands and sending it scattering into the dark.

But Kai did not press his advantage and Ty was left standing there, unarmed, confused, and angry.

“What are you doing? ATTACK me!!” he yelled but Kai backed away and hid his teeth.

Ty stepped at him, pointing with both hands to his own chest. “Damn it all, Kai, attack me! You have to! There is nothing left of you! You’re a monster, that’s what you do! That’s what you did to the others, to Khasar, why won’t you do it to me?!”

The wolf started to pace, dropping to all fours, hunched with his head low. Drool turned to foam in the corners of his mouth and speckled the fur of his ruff and arms, his eyes still glittered. He didn’t stop watching the Hunter.

“You think I want to do this?!” Ty yelled as he fumbled to get Kai’s sword from his back, “do you even remember when we talked about this?” He took the sheath off and tossed to the side. “We promised each other that if we ever turned, we would be the one to put the other down. That we wouldn’t let the other hurt anyone!” Ty blinked angry tears away and struggled to hold the weapon. It took both hands and the tip of it still visibly shook. “If you don’t kill me, I’ll kill you!” Ty growled and ran at the wolf again, swinging the great sword in wide arcs.

Kai stepped away from the first swing, but the second grazed his shoulder and he whimpered. He pranced out of reach again and Ty stumbled. The tip of the sword thudded into the ground, sliding on the smooth river rock and nearly pulled Ty off balance. He had to take a moment to recover his footing and catch his breath, tears flowing freely now.

“It’s not possible, it’s not possible,” he mumbled to himself and raised a hand to hide his face as though he could physically hold back the tears and with it his desperation and crumbling resolve. Ty wiped his face and then glared at Kai.

“You gave them hope!” he yelled, “where’s mine!?”

The wolf stopped pacing and there was stillness between them until Kai slowly lowered himself to the ground. He lay down and rolled to his side, unwilling to fight anymore, a silent plea in his eyes. If it must be done, then let it be done, but he would die himself and not a ravenous beast.

The sword in his hand was too heavy and it dragged on the ground behind him as Ty forced himself to walk up to Kai. Still the wolf didn’t move, just looked up at his friend with those wild eyes, full of regret and sorrow.

He dropped the sword and then fell to his knees to put a hand on Kai’s big head. Ty gently pet him with ghost-like touches, his fingertips barely feeling along his features, tracing the putrid gash along his eye, already starting to scar along the edges.

Kai slowly closed his eyes, a gesture of complete trust, and Ty knew for sure.

“You were my brother, Kai,” he whispered, weeping, “Why didn’t I go with you?”

Light and hopeful touches turned into needy grasping as Ty buried his face in Kai’s fur, holding tightly to the fluff to sob and mumble with agony and regret, “why didn’t I go with you?”

He cried until he was spent, listening to Kai’s soft rumblings until the snapping of a twig put him back on guard. Kai’s ear flicked and he raised his head ever so slightly when Ty hurried to his feet and recovered the great sword, holding it at the ready with the tip of it near Kai’s nose.

The torchlight came over the edge of the bank the same time Khasar growled, “what are you doing?!” “Khasar--?” Ty started but was promptly cut off by a fist in his face.

“We told you we were going to save, Kai!” he snapped at Ty, barely giving him a second to recover. “Was this your plan all along?!”

Ty gently pressed a thumb to his jaw, checking to be sure it wasn’t broken.

Evie slid down the bank and hurried to Kai’s side, tossing the torch aside on the gravel so she could check him with both hands. Her worried expression was better than the soul-piercing glare from dinner.

Kai immediately got back to his feet and started slinking backwards, away from the light, with his belly to the ground and his lip curled back. His tail tucked between his legs and his ears flattened into his ruff.

She was undaunted, moving towards him with absolute faith and meaningful steps to put her hands on his muzzle. Kai���s tail wagged twice when she put her hand on his cheek, and he tried to lick her very briefly before she pushed his head down to focus on his newly acquired scratches.

“You were always going to try and kill him, weren’t you?” Khasar growled. He had planted himself between Ty and Kai and was squaring up again.

“Yes, I was,” Ty admitted quietly and Khasar punched him again.

“We told you that Kai is still in there! We both heard him! We both see it! How can you have such little faith in him? In us?”

“I didn’t!” Ty snapped, “I didn’t… but I do now.” Ty and Khasar’s eyes met, and they studied each other for several heartbeats until Khasar relaxed and lowered his fists. He still looked hurt behind the anger and Ty couldn’t blame him. He should’ve been on their side from the beginning.

He looked between Khasar, Evie, and Kai. Better late than never, and they were gonna need all the help they could get.

[berrypass-de-murdler]

2 - 65 The Mineshaft Murder

I'm home yay

...I was home yesterday-

Look who it is!

It's Grayscale

He's creepy

He's made out of cardboard, so he's only about a centimeter deep. Of course, this means he is easily destructible, and is in fact a crash-test dummy for machinery. Every warning sign you see featuring a figure getting maimed is him! But 'don't worry', he can be printed out over and over again and is immortal. And he always remembers everything.

DON'T READ THE EPISODES WITHOUT READING THE BOOKS!!

The map that Grayscale gave Irratino was worthless. He doesn’t even know Logico, much less where he is. So Irratino is unfortunately back to trusting his gut. And his gut tells him that the answer is deep below the ground. So he heads to an abandoned mine shaft. 

IRRATINO: Lower me down!

Raspberry, Pine, and Emerald stare at him. This is an abandoned mine shaft, that’s not how it works.

IRRATINO: But… how will I find the answer at the bottom? PINE: I got a flashlight. It’s not that deep.

At the bottom of the pit, there’s nothing but a human body. And a beautiful geode! Emerald sends a small feral bird to go down there, but Irratino stops him.

IRRATINO: NO! You will NOT send this canary down into the coal mine. It could die! This practice is BARBARIC. EMERALD: It is not toxic gases! It’s perfectly safe. IRRATINO: Not for a small bird like this it’s not. Go fly down there yourself.

Emerald rolls his eyes and walks away. Irratino handles the bird, fluffing it softly with a big smile.

BIRD: I’m not a canary, motherfucker!

Irratino yelps and throws it up into the air.

BIRD: I’m a cahdnal, plain as can be! Cinereous Cahdnal. And lemme tell you, you got me outta a bad deal, y’know what I’m sayin��? I owe ya lots. IRRATINO: Oh, uh… yeah! Of course!

He had always longed for animals to talk. Which is… I’m not even gonna say it. It’s time as always to solve the murder of another human. They could have fallen themselves, sure, but it’s far more likely they didn’t. Right away, Irratino can’t help but notice the terrible smell.

IRRATINO: I guess corpses are supposed to smell bad, but this is worse…

It’s Emerald, he has a bottle of obviously poisoned moonshine. But (most) birds have a terrible sense of smell, so he can’t tell. Thankfully he doesn’t drink it, but he does pour it over his wings for some reason. His feathers turn gray and disintegrate!

EMERALD: Mamma mia! Oh lord! PINE: HA! [snort]

Where did Raspberry go? Irratino finds him scaling the wall of the pit, slowly lowering himself using only his claws, trembling. Slowly, he reaches for a bit of gold, lodged into the wall, pulling it out with his teeth. But Cinereous isn’t having it. He pecks his nose and he leaps in fear, clutching onto the lift for dear life.

IRRATINO: Hold on!

Irratino struggles to pull the 500+ pound tiger up, but manages. Raspberry is out of breath.

IRRATINO: What were you doing?? RASPBERRY: Oh, Ratti… I’m dirt poor! I barely got nothin’ left… I dunno how much longer I can go without headin’ to the streets.

Irratino sighs. If the past few encounters have said anything, Raspberry is having a pretty terrible life. Cinereous is just perched on a rock, singing a beautiful song while admiring the gold nugget. Irratino confronts him.

IRRATINO: What was that for??  CINEREOUS: Eh, couldn’t let the guy have it. ‘S for the Choich, y’know?  IRRATINO: Did you kill that human, too?!

CINEREOUS: That mine should be MINE! I discova’d that the mine wad’nt depleted - just abandoned! And I coulda made so much money for my Choich and my masta Fatha Mango. But those poor fools were gonna take my shares! So I did what I had’ta do!  IRRATINO: Well, you didn’t have to do it. 

CINEREOUS: What, you disrespect’n God now? I was gonna do good for the Choich, so it don’t matter how many humans gotta get outta the way first!

Irratino is disgusted. Abusing one’s faith in such a way… not to mention pretending to be an innocent, angelic creature. He gets a notification - another missed call from Logico. Why hasn’t he learned to turn his ringer on…

LOGICO: Hey I.I., love to hear from you. Just send a diplomatic cable to the Free Drakonian prison and we’ll see if we can escape it together. Alright? 

He sounds so calm and loving. Irratino wants him so bad. So why can’t he just… go to the Free Drakonian prison already?

PINE: I don't even know why I'm here if I'm honest. [pops open a beer]

The end!

Irratino I know we have to fill a whole season but

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[stuckyhistoricalfiction]

Teasers

Read some teasers of the fics coming out this December and January!

Bucky was frozen in place as time itself stopped, unable as he was to tear his eyes away from unknown warrior. Everywhere around him the shrieks of war ensued but he was silent like the clouds before a thunderstorm, rooted like a tree where others were slipping in the mud. The blood – not his own, for no one got close enough to hurt him – made the strong muscles of his mid-section gleam when the sun hit it, and his massive arms bulged each time the man swung his sword in ruinous circles. Man. Could he really be? A giant amongst them all, with no markings to show where he belonged. Neither blade nor ink had marred his skin, and he lacked the arm-ring that would prove him a Northerner. He couldn’t be theirs – he was fighting against them with a force so strong it didn’t seem human. All the breath left Bucky. He might not wear an arm ring, but he wasn’t wearing that damned silver cross either in a chain around his neck. All he wore was a golden crown.

“Are you done choking?” The voice says when Steve stops aspirating dried vascular plant bits. The hand once again grips his hair, pulls him up and another hand pushes him backward to sit against a tree and Steve finally gets a look at his attacker. His breath stops. Before him is a savage in leather and pelts, with wild black hair and strange markings down his left arm and shoulder, but Steve can’t pay attention to any of it because his face is painted. White and red and vibrant blue streak across forehead and cheekbones and the eyes are smeared pitch black. It makes the striking light gray irises stand out all the more. His teeth show in a predatory smile between blue and white lips. Steve has heard of Celtic witches. Fearsome stories, all of them. “First things first,” the witch sits down in front of him. “I would never hurt your horse, Roman.” Steve gasps. “Of course, you’re a Roman.” The man scoffs. “I could have picked your stance and build out of a thousand. You have soldier written all over you. You and that ridiculous haircut.” The hand is back in his hair, tousling this time, and Steve curses the fact that he did not have leave to let his hair and beard grow before the journey down. It is probably how the stranger in the tavern pegged him. All his offerings to Mercury were for nothing. “The question is not who you are.” The painted face before Steve becomes pensive. “And I can guess what you’re doing here, dressed like a commoner, skulking around my sacred altars.” Steve’s eyes widen in shock. These woods are consecrated. Tony sent him straight into the lion’s den, and like a sheep, Steve went. The predatory smile comes back, spreads across paint. “Boudica rising,” he whispers. “Is that not why you’re here.” Steve blinks. Bites his tongue. Tries to leave his face impassive, but the witch takes one look at him and once again laughs out loud. It is supremely unsettling. “Aaaaaahhhh,” he sighs, content. “I thought so.” Then he cocks his head left. “Your horse is coming back. Loyal beast that it is. When I sprung you and it bolted, I thought we’d never see the nag again.” Falconis steps into the clearing, snuffling and a little out of sorts, but none the worse for wear. He has not damaged himself in his flight through these woods and Steve is glad. He walks over to Steve and nuzzles his cheek, fluffing happily, and then turns— and does the same to the witch. Traitor.

As many things do, it begins with two corpses; one staining the quilt of snow it lays on a rueful shade of crimson, and the other encased in an icy tomb within the rotting carcass of a downed plane. In a way that defies both sense and science, both corpses are not truly dead at all — at least not yet. One corpse clenches his remaining fingers painfully tight, the knuckles paling to match the snow, grappling with the ledge of life desperately while his companion - his other half - readily lets go, ready to wearily sink under the waves of the quiet and the cold. One in denial and the other relieved. Even though they’re as good as, they’re not dead. Some would say it’s a miracle, a marvel, and that’s just the M’s; nevermind the rest. But, when it is stripped down to the bone, flesh and ligaments peeled away until the ivory skeleton of truth is laid bare, it is undoubtable that these icy graves and their icy corpses are inexplicably, irrevocably, and indescribably intertwined. Perhaps it’s fate, maybe one could go as far as to say it’s destiny. Maybe, maybe, maybe. But the one thing that is undeniable is that from the very second both corpses teetered on the thinning thread between living and dying, their orbits crossed. Over the next handful of decades, they are pulled into each other like stars, spiralling closer and closer until inevitably falling into each other in a stellar collision of a single epic, and irreversible mistake.

“Prince Bohemond VI has submitted to the Mongols.” Marshal Phillips announced solemnly. István looked up from the map. “Are we sending forces to liberate them?” He inquired. It was a larger campaign than they usually engaged in, but the Mongols were also a greater threat than they usually faced. Marshal Phillips shook his head and István felt a bolt of shock through his chest. Surely they couldn’t stand by and let Antioch fall to such a cruel adversary? “The prince claims he is submitting willingly. His father-in-law, King Hethum I, submitted over a decade ago, and has been encouraging other monarchs to do the same for years. He believes allying with the Mongols is our best chance to defend the kingdoms of Christendom from the Mamluks.” “If we submit to the Mongols, there will be no Christendom to defend!” István argued. But the other knights didn’t seem concerned. He thought of the scorched ruins he’d grown up around. The way his mother always choked up when talking about his father’s final stand against “the Tatars”. Desperate for understanding, his eyes sought out Jakab amongst the assembled archers. Jakab was already looking at him with a sweet, concerned frown. István felt a renewed sense of sanity as his friend gave a little nod in solidarity.

“You know you’re quite the informant,” Bucky said softly. “Let’s make a deal you keep talkin to me, and I’ll pay you enough, so you don’t have to walk the streets.” “I don’t need your fucking charity,” Steve growled. “It’s not charity.” Bucky grabbed Steve’s wrist. “You’re in the victim pool. You’re almost an exact match for what he’s lookin for. And you got a son—” “Don’t talk about my son!” Steve snarled. “Let me help you!” Bucky yelled. “I don’t need your help!” Steve yanked his arm out of Bucky’s grasp. “I don’t need anything from you—” “Goddammit, Stevie.” Bucky grabbed Steve and pressed him against the wall of an alley. But Nat’s words echoed in his mind, You’re all violent in your own way. Bucky didn’t want to be violent, especially not with Steve. He pulled back a little, giving the fae enough room to slip away if he wanted to. “I won’t force you,” Bucky told him with a sigh of defeat. “But I really do want to help. No charity, no pity, just help. And I need your help too. You know these victims, I don’t.”

[sunlessea]

there's never anything good to come from it, when it shows up in place of another master. it hardly steps out of its niche, content to play the role of debauched and pretty and desirable and nothing more than that. all its hoarded wineries kept to itself and each intricately lecherous relationship it'd built up with its peers among the masters were enough to satiate it's waning interest in even being alive ... so when the master of wines makes a willing appearance, it is hardly something to celebrate, despite what the improper populace of london itself may believe. this is such a case where its appearance is even more confusing, and every bit more a threat.

whatever its intentions, they certainly aren't so sweet as the scent of strawberries and honey that follow in its wake. it hums as it looks at the chains and barely recognizable husk of an ally once betrayed attached to them, reaching up to peel the hood of its silken cloaks from its head. fluffed ears twitched with the disgust of the sight. how the mighty have fallen! it's a sight a touch too familiar.

"mr mirrors! how scandalous, it has been sooo long." there's distinct mockery in its chipper tone, as if its appearance alone weren't indicative enough that this is not a pleasant social call. it is the first master to seek out their lost comrade since its imprisonment, it's sure. what a sorry sight it finds mirrors in, ragged on the floor like a broken corpse. its own fall hadn't even been this pathetic. its heels click 'gainst the floor as it approaches it against the haze, bare legs decorated with red stockings peeking out 'neath the cloak's fabric with each step. it, for its part, had not changed at all. beautiful, lewd, an absolute dream, with a nightmare heart deludedly beating underneath it all. what a difference it makes, to be able to play pretend. "aww, sweetheart. you look positively vile."

@londonfallen / mr mirrors

[taleofturtleclan]

MOON 10

Spindlepaw wove through the undergrowth, ears pricked, pawsteps confident as she navigated the now familiar territory of the survivors along with the rest of her patrol. “Just one last border to check, and then we can head back,” Sand promised as the trees began to thin.

Spindlepaw twitched her ear to show that she had heard him, but didn’t speak. Honestly, she would be glad to return to camp. This had been a long, tiring patrol, but Spindlepaw had vowed to herself that she wouldn’t complain about any of her training since her mentor had recovered from Greencough, and so she kept her mouth shut.

“Wait!” The plea was distant, and Spindlepaw froze, ears straining to hear more. “Oh, please wait!” 

“Did you hear that?” Spindlepaw hissed to the rest of her patrol, but Tidechaser’s ears were already pricking to pick up the sound. 

“It’s coming from past our border,” Tidechaser meowed. “It’s no concern of ours.”

“Please don’t leave me alone out here!” 

“It sounds like someone needs help,” Sand pointed out. “We can’t just ignore them.”

“We could,” Tidechaser growled under his breath. “We don’t have any idea what the situation is.”

Spindlepaw pushed past the muttering tom along with the rest of the patrol. He might grumble about it, but he’d follow them. After a few more pawsteps, Foam tensed. “I smell blood,” he warned.

“Come on!” Sand took off at a sprint, not waiting to see if the other cats were following him. Spindlepaw was on his heels, she’d started moving before he gave the command. She pushed through the last of the forest’s undergrowth, out into the sandy dunes to find a strange stretch of flat, black stone. At this distance, the scent of blood was almost completely masked by the acrid tang of the strange path. She would have wondered if it were dangerous, but Sand bounded across it with no hesitation. He was already bending over a lump of fur on the side of the path. Spindlepaw began to creep across the path when a rough nudge from behind caused her to stumble. 

“Are you mad?” Tidechaser hissed, “You can’t just stand around in the middle of a Thunderpath. They’re not so dangerous if you cross them quickly, but if you linger, you could be dead in a heartbeat!”

Too frightened to be angry with the pale tom, Spindlepaw sprinted the rest of the way across the stone path to sit beside Sand and Foam along the edge of the path. The two toms were examining the cooling body of a ginger and gray cat, her fur scorched with strange black marks. She’d clearly only been dead moments, the warmth Spindlepaw could sense rising from the blood confirmed that much, but she already reeked of some strange, foreign scent similar to that of the black stone. 

“Twolegs!” Tidechaser spat in disgust, raising his chin and fluffing his fur. “Those furless, soft pawed freaks! This is why cats should never have anything to do with them!” 

Sand shot Tidechaser a baleful glare, ignoring him in favor of bowing his head over the dead molly’s corpse in a gesture of respect.

“Twolegs did this? But how?” Spindlepaw knew her meow was quiet and shaky, but she couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything other than the dead cat before her. This must have been the cat she’d heard. Just a few moments ago, she’d been alive, speaking and pleading for something, and now she was a lifeless heap of fur on the side of this strange black rock. Gone, just like that. Spindlepaw could feel her breathing growing shallow.

“They hit her with one of those nasty, shiny beasts they command. They’re really fast, and I’m not sure they’re even fully alive, but when a twoleg gets inside of one, it comes to life and travels along these Thunderpaths, hunting any creature that dares to linger here,” Sand explained. “It seems like this molly’s housefolk left her here and went away in their monster. When she tried to follow them on the path, a different monster must have attacked her.”

Spindlepaw could feel herself beginning to tremble. She had no memories of any twolegs, but the way most of the cats in camp spoke of them, they were supposed to be kind, benevolent creatures, sometimes a little clueless and clumsy, but good-hearted over all. What sort of good-hearted creature could do this to such a loyal cat? “Why did they kill her?” Spindlepaw wailed, her vision beginning to blur. “Didn’t they know she was loyal to them? Didn’t they care?”

“...should get her out of here…”

“..too young to see…”

“...important she learns…”

She could distantly hear the other cats talking to each other, but her ears were beginning to ring with panic, and none of their words seemed to make sense. Suddenly, one of Foam’s strong paws drew her close into his soft chest fur. The big tom was forcing a purr, and the noise slowly brought Spindlepaw back to her senses.

“You’re alright, Spindlepaw,” Foam meowed softly. “I’m sorry you had to see this. It’s disturbing for all of us, but I didn’t know it would shake you so badly.”

“I just don’t understand,” she croaked, “this cat was loyal to the twolegs. Why would they hurt her? Are they really that cruel?”

“Yes,” Tidechaser growled. “Twolegs don’t care about a cat’s loyalty or friendship. When they’re done using us up or they grow bored of us, they just toss us out like we’re no better than spoiled fish. You can never trust them.”

“They’re not all like that,” Sand protested. “My housefolk were kind to me, and they had cared for my mother for seasons upon seasons before I was kitted. When I was born, they loved me as much as a kit from one of their own kin.”

“That’s one experience,” Tidechaser grumbled, “its not the rule.”

“There is no rule,” Sand snapped, “each twoleg is different, just like each cat…”As the two toms carried on bickering, Spindlepaw’s gaze fixed on the bloodied, lifeless body of the ginger and gray molly as she shook in Foam’s embrace. Privately, she thought she agreed with Tidechaser. She would never, ever trust a twoleg.