#is there a few similarities between my creatures no there is not shut up its called consistent world building. idk. convergent evolution.

[isbergillustration]

This guy is a warped and unwilling servant of the angels I draw (as opposed to the person who is an enthusiastically willing servant but only because they've been brainwashed by them since childhood). Used to be a trans dude now he's trans... something. You can read the first eight or so chapters about him on my writing blog @outgridwrites

[teenandbeyond]

I've noticed your predator/alien franchise doesn't have anything for xenomorph. Let's change that lol. Could I get something that has a similar storyline like the one that says dark reader on it the one where the reader is obsessed with aliens.. It's made me curious tbh

Xenomorph x Dark. Reader

Mx. Anonymous, you read my mind! I was wondering when someone would request this! And you don't need to apologize, since it's fanfiction, we're just gonna say eff reality for a moment (even though the whole thing is fictional...but you get it).

Want more from me, my Infinites (I'm trying out a follower name thing lol. I'll probably shuffle through random ass names until one works)? 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

👽Discoveries👽 (Aliens)

Warning(s): Dark Fic (dunno if it came out as dark as I wanted), Non-con details, unprotected, triggering(?), size difference, I don't know where I went with this (this is what happens when I write parts at different times, I guess)

Sometimes experimentation leads to temptation...

✨✨✨✨✨✨

"You're crazy, [Last Name]!"

You tapped the end of your pen against your lip in thought before smiling, "Maybe, but crazy gets better results than normal. Ask any of the greatest geniuses, they'll tell you."

You were labeled as the crazy scientist because you suggested cross breeding. Between Xenomorph—or Aliens, the term used for common folk—and humans.

'It's impossible!'

'It's wrong! Don't you have any morals?' they cried.

'You want to talk to me about morals? Ha! Who are the ones who take creatures as they please and experiment to their heart's content, past what's necessary, simply for nosiness and fear of not knowing everything?'

You always shut them up any time they felt a need to comment on you.

"Sometimes the most impossible things can be made possible," you muttered as you scribbled something in your many notebooks dedicated to this theory.

You could admit you were pretty obsessed with Xenomorphs, you found them fascinating. You studied them with a passion.

You wanted one...and the opportunity came when a group of scientists arrived with a captured Xenomorph.

They were studying it to come up with a defense against them, you, among a few other scientists decided to spectate.

And all hell broke loose.

Turns out, someone from the group had gotten infected. You had to figure that out when a man's stomach burst open.

There was panic as the other scientists fell victim, until the newest creature was contained.

The two aliens were to be stored away since the team leading the experiment was now dead, until someone else decided to take it over.

That was your opening.

You took the fully grown one to your private lab, where everything was already set up.

The huge cylinder it was in was a little heavy, but you made it work. You pushed a button that would release an anesthetic-type liquid into the fluid the creature was summered in.

Once it was confirmed to be unconscious, you released it and properly restrained it, tail and all. You loved risks, but not when the result could stop your experimenting from proceeding...you can't test things if you're dead.

"Now...let's get your vitals connected to my database..." you tapped away at your screen until the patches and machinery you'd connected to it did their job, "There you are...and you are a very healthy Xenomorph."

You went through a few experiments of merging DNA samples, but something was missing. You couldn't figure out what it was.

You were disturbed from your deep thoughts by a pathetic escape attempt behind you.

"Oh, you're awake. I should introduce myself," you approached the alien carefully, "I'm your caretaker. And you're all mine for the time being."

It continued to struggle, hissing at you as you calmly took off your lab coat and put on gloves.

"Now, for a physical examination..."

Your hand slowly trailed down the alien's head and jaw, raising a brow as its struggle turned hesitant.

You heard a rumbling sound from its throat, the mouth covering muffling it.

"So...you aren't completely adverse to touch, hm?"

Then you explored its shoulders and arms, you trailed lower to its sides.

"Everything seems to be in order so far...You really are a beautiful specimen..." you sighed in fascination.

You were mesmerized and edging towards getting aroused.

And the alien could smell it, it was reacting.

Visibly reacting.

You smirked, "Oh...well, look at that. I've made the discovery of a lifetime."

So much research had been done, but never have sexual organs been found on an alien. But you supposed it wasn't common for someone to show arousal in their presence.

"Standing at attention just for me...What should I do with you?"

You were absolutely breathless.

But who could blame you, you were stretched to your limits. And there were still quite a few inches of it that didn't fit inside.

There was some defiance at the beginning, but this alien would just be the next being to know you always got what you wanted in the end.

And the hotter you got and the louder you got, ashamed defiance turned into lustful acceptance.

You balanced on your hands best you could, your feet also supporting you, but they were beginning to become less reliant the more they curled.

Its skin felt cool and smooth, a stark contrast to your heat and muscle. It made you shiver in the best ways as you slowly slid up and down.

"I think I might—keep you."

You were becoming more obsessed by the minute, perhaps your rationality was being manipulated by the smell of sex and sweat.

Or maybe because the alien tried and failed to keep itself quiet, sensitive to your every move.

A cute little virgin it was.

All yours to use as you've wanted. You could possibly get a sample once you were done, see if it gave different results.

Everything was in your control, until it wasn't.

The alien decided it'd had enough of your slow pace.

It thrusted up in quick strokes, making your body move so quickly it looked like it was shaking.

With a groan, your nails dug into its arms, then you gasp as it breaks out of its restraints.

For a moment, you think it'll attack, and it does.

It flips you under and bullies itself back into you, forcing in every inch.

A brutal attack that leaves you trying to catch your breath.

With a growl behind its mask, it pummels into you.

With fascination, you feel the bulge it creates and swear you can see it, but you're a little disoriented right now.

Your vision flashes from the pleasure and pain, your body is tingling.

"You—You're my discovery to keep," you grin.

[writernopal]

⛺Camp? Camp.⛺

We're 10 days into Camp Shrimpmo (we renamed it to something like that lol) so here, have an edited passage of AASOAF 3 as a treat :3

WC: 645 CW: thalassophobia, minor body horror

a/n: recommend listening to Siren by Amanati while reading!

The Mirage tottered violently then, listing one way then the other until the sparkling sea washed a tongue, perhaps even a finger or a leg, over the bulwarks and a sort of sucking sound came from somewhere down below. Blackened and shiny limbs followed—his subjects—and slowly, the Mirage relinquished her will to breathe and sank. 

The sea closed around us, tossing my hair up in one great mass as bubbles tickled the back of my neck and the sunlight flickered through the surface like pale spears. Fishes and sharks and other sea life, peered curiously in our direction, seeming in awe that a surface dweller like me breathed their water as commonly as air. Their attention was short lived, however, as they quickly darted away once we reached colder waters. What lay below were the mostly eyeless stares and out of tune humming of sea witches—beings they wouldn’t dare cross.

But we drifted freely by them, their poor excuses for eyes—beady lumps on the back of the heads—shining like wicked marbles as they warped themselves round in corkscrews to get a better look at their master. Strange half-shrunk and faceless creatures they were, with bony fins and tails, maws in their necks, and skin grey as decaying flesh. A few seemed to be blessed by him, Satoyev, as their limp bodies hosted swollen bellies. He paid them no mind.

We touched down on the sea floor, the expanse before us was so dark it seemed an illusion, as if I might wave my hand before me and find a velvet curtain concealing the world. But here, my outstretched arm was swallowed, such that anything beyond my elbow was invisible. I’d become a collection of stumps, sprouting from the seed of the overeager sun upon my chest and the heart beating beneath it. The light and warmth of my brand’s celestial counterpart was a foreigner at these depths, perhaps even a myth. Its rays could never penetrate this darkness, much less affect the temperature of this place, which I could only, and inadequately, describe as cold.

I returned my hand to the visible realm, resting it over my chest. With it came Satoyev, his fins and scales glowing dull blues and reds. He put a hand beneath my chin and drew me close.

“Come.” 

I didn’t resist, so he clutched me close, his many eyes pulsating in the darkness, and we began to move. How fast or in what direction I couldn’t say, but my stomach lurched and my eyes became so unbearably cold that I shut them. At intervals the current snatched them open, painting glowing smears of bright blues and greens—kraken eyes—curiously watching us. No doubt they rejoiced their lord's return home. 

“Here.” 

We passed underneath a dark mass, and toward something shimmering. It appeared the surface of another ocean but when we cleared it, there was no air, just more water, this time strangely warm and very salty. The area was small and clouded by strange thick grey gasses rising from some place. Clusters of pale worms and shrunken mollusks peeked between their billows. In the center of the space was a sort of cradle crafted of whalebones and decaying flesh. Peering between its remains shone a hazy blue light.

I squinted into it as we drew closer, my eyes struggling with this brightness after desensitizing dark, until its source finally came into view—a large rough cut sapphire. It was similar to the one I used to summon Saviyesaih, but thrice as big, and gave off a much more powerful energy. The water around it formed gentle ripples, as if the stone itself breathed, the frequency increasing as Satoyev and I came near. We came to a stop just before it. Whispered whale song floated from it, caressing not my ear, but my heart instead.

AASOAF 3 Taglist: @outpost51 @thelivingdeceased @faelanvance @captain-kraken @illjustpretend

@elshells @full-on-sam @the-mindless @zestymimblo @tabswrites

@void-botanist

Join/leave the taglist using this Google Form.

[typingatlightspeed]

TF2 Fanfic - Complex Carbohydrates

Following the events of Expiration Date, Engineer decides to invite Medic for a few beers out back of the base, as a final sort of come-down from everything they'd been through over the weekend. Some easy conversation and light flirting seems a pretty good way to celebrate being alive.

A giftie fic for @missjamiekaye, and thank-you for that lovely Sword Van piece! <3 They asked for some Engie and Medic being flirty bros. I hope this passes muster!

---------

It had taken hours, but finally, the last of the giant, mutant bread monster had been disposed of. Most of the work had been done by Pyro, if they were all honest. The firebug had delighted in torching that big mess of grains and tentacles, reducing it to ash which was then unceremoniously dumped in a nearby ravine, hopefully not polluting any groundwater after the fact.

Not like the groundwater here could get any more polluted than it already was, anyway. Not without changing its colour and viscosity, at least. The lead levels were already more than enough to scare even penny-pinching RED into supplying an external water source for its mercenaries, whom had never been known to be the recipients of much in the way of creature comforts from their employers.

Thank goodness the paychecks were huge.

Engineer hung his hardhat and goggles up on the pegs he'd installed next to the door in his quarters. He scrubbed a hand over the stubble of his shaven head and let out a long breath, now that everything was said and done. He was exhausted. It had been the longest three days of his life. Terror, shame, determination, panic, and entirely too little sleep had filled the time between the discovery of just what teleporting does to bread, and the discovery that what teleporting does, it just does to bread. He didn't think it possible to chug along on adrenaline for days on end, but now, as it leaked away, he wasn't just tired, he was weary.

Even so, he wasn't headed to bed just yet. There was something important he needed to do.

*

The door to the infirmary opened slowly but not quietly, the door's hinge squealing almost as a defense measure. Engineer made a mental note to oil the damn things tomorrow.

The room was only half-lit, theories and calculations still scrawled on the chalk board, wall, floor, anything chalk could cling to; evidence of their weekend-long desperate bout of research and development. Engineer hadn't worked that hard that fast since college, though he had to say, the company was much better. Medic was at least as much the mad genius as he was, and it had been nice to have someone on a similar wavelength to bounce ideas against.

"Hallo?" Medic asked, turning, bent over in front of his open refrigerator. Likely chilling what few samples he'd managed to wrangle after Pyro had befriended the small, angry loaf of mutant bread the doctor had managed to keep contained for most of the weekend.

"Hey there, Doc," Engineer greeted with an easy smile.

"Ah, Engie. I'm surprised to find you awake. I had assumed you'd be dead to the world at this point." Medic chuckled lightly, standing and closing the fridge.

"Still too wound up from it all. Exhaustion's finally crashin' in but my mind ain't done turnin' yet. You know how it is."

"Indeed I do." Medic took a deep breath, feeling the same fatigue creeping over him. His nose scrunched up in dismay. "Ach, this whole room smells like yeast."

Engineer chuckled at that. "Weren't gonna say nothin', but you ain't wrong. But speakin' of..." He lifted his hand, showing the gift he'd brought: a six-pack of frosty, cold beers. "How 'bout we go partake of some more yeast out back? Actually enjoy some of this weekend 'fore we gotta be up for work in the mornin'?"

"Those are the only carbohydrates I think I'll be interested in for some time," Medic chuckled. "My friend, once again you prove to be the idea man between the two of us." He gladly followed Engineer out the door, shutting the lights off in the infirmary behind him.

The night sky stretched out for what seemed like forever, dampened only by the light pollution of a few stray lamps along the perimeter fence. Engineer switched off the porch light, saving their eyes a bit of strain in the dark, and settled on the edge of the dry, creaky old structure, the six-pack of beers separating him from Medic.

The cool breeze of the night air caressed them gently, neither chilling nor buffeting them, merely whispering past in a gentle sussurus that seemed to ferry away the stress of the prior three days. Engineer snatched up a beer and popped the cap on the edge of the porch, then handed the bottle to Medic before doing the same for himself. They lifted their beers and clinked the bottles together in a silent toast before taking a pull.

"Thank you for inviting me," Medic said with a wistful smile, watching a stray cloud drift past the moon, its light illuminating it with a silver halo.

"'Course," Engineer demurred. "After what we been through, some cold beers with a good buddy is just what this doctor ordered."

Medic snorted a laugh at that. "I'll admit, this is a far better way to spend time together than in utter, mortal terror, furiously experimenting for three days straight."

"Amen to that. If I'm gonna be experimentin' with you, I'd much rather it be relaxed, 'n after a couple of beers." He smirked against the lip of his bottle, a proper smile pulling at his lips as Medic blushed and tittered in reply.

Medic didn't look at him, a laugh caught in his voice. "So is that why you asked me out here?"

Engineer split into a crooked grin. "That depends on whether it's gettin' me anywhere."

Lifting an eyebrow, Medic took another swig from his bottle, letting the silence stretch on just a bit. "You know, one of these days I'm going to call you on your bluff and take you seriously."

"When that day comes we're both in for a lot of trouble."

"I worry far more for everyone else."

They shared a laugh at that, downing the rest of their beers. Medic glanced sidelong at Engineer. It had been a long, long weekend. Though, truly, even if their initial theory had held true and it had been the end for them, he could scarcely think of a better way to go, throwing science at the wall and trying to crack a nearly insurmountable problem with Engineer at his side. He was the only man he'd ever known whose ever-churning mind could keep up with his own. If he had just a few fewer morals he could even surpass him, which made Medic glad that his friend had at least some scruples left to his name, if only to save his own pride.

Engineer's thoughts must have followed a similar path. He withdrew another beer from the pack and gestured to Medic with it. "Still can't believe we both managed to jump to a conclusion like that. Somethin' affectin' bread like that sure is gonna be one-to-one with humans." He scoffed. "We were so wound up we straight skipped over where that didn't make a lick of sense."

Medic shrugged, nodding with the assessment. "To be fair, it isn't exactly like there are reams of research on the side effects of teleportation on the human body in the first place. Our daily use of them and the records kept about it is probably the closest thing to a study that's ever been done, which is hardly saying anything. Something, anything, showing a reaction like that is cause for concern, since it was such an anomaly. We were working with the data available, which was very incomplete." An impish grin crossed his too-white teeth, "We did manage to untangle the problem. After all, we had the two greatest minds of our generation working on the project."

"Shucks," Engineer demurred, blushing a bit. "I'm just glad this weren't the end. Would'a been a sad way for a bunch of hardened killers to go. All that fight in us just to die from tumors? Shame."

"Agreed. Even living as we do, it would be cutting everything far too short. Too much left undone, too much left unsaid," he took a sharp breath, realizing how personal that sounded, and quickly rejoined, "too much yet to learn and discover!"

Engineer let it slide, not taking the easy opening to needle his friend. "Ain't that right." He used the edge of the porch to finally open the bottle he was holding and offered it to Medic, "Doctor?"

"Doctor," Medic replied, accepting it gladly with a giggle.

Engineer opened his own beer and they clinked the bottles again. "To wheat."

"To complex carbohydrates!"

They chuckled and knocked back their beers, settling into a comfortable silence as they stared out across the desert, the pale, silvery light of the moon lighting up the rusty sand a fetching shade of blue.

"Y'know, Doc, I—"

"Ludwig."

Engineer turned to look at Medic, lifting an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"My name is Ludwig."

"Oh."

Medic finished his beer, taking the pause to sort out his thoughts. "We just stared Death in the face and watched him flinch so hard it was physically indistinguishable from a seizure. We spent three days with barely any food or sleep, experimenting and theorizing and calculating, around the clock. We've just been through a special Hell together; we deserve know one another's names, OPSEC be damned, don't you think?"

"Awful poetic of you," Engineer replied, his voice soft. He was a bit touched, truth be told. "Alright, Lou. You can call me Dell."

Medic smiled at that, more than a little amused by the American's immediate need to create a nickname for a name that was only two syllables long. "Dell. Sehr gut."

"Nice to meetcha," Engineer teased. He finished his beer and set about cracking the last two, handing Medic his and lifting his own for a final, silent toast.

Medic grinned, and their bottles clinked, and the chirping of crickets filled the easy quiet that settled there as the exhausted, trimphant mercenaries spent the last hours of their weekend enjoying one another's company.

[tonikogemmie]

April 17th, 2024: Wednesday's Melancholic Gem

In death, we gain a new understanding in someone's story. How someone dies, the last words they leave for others are all telling things about the person. However, the death of an animal (at this time) is only a story we can uncover for them...through veterinary forensics! A chance meeting Kenshou Touma has with his classmate Barato Sousuke and a strange case with crows sets him on a journey to uncover the mysteries behind animal deaths.

Last Karte by Asayama Wakabi

Last Karte - Houjuuigakusha Touma Kenshou no Kioku //ラストカルテ-法獣医学者 当麻健匠の記憶-

TYPE: Manga

TAGS: Mystery, Slice-of-Life, Drama, Medical

DEMOGRAPHIC: Shounen

STATUS: Completed* (95 chapters)

Perhaps this is why this story would be to your liking:

This manga follows a case by case structure, with each mystery spanning a couple of chapters. The mystery is not so much a gripping detective story or anything, but leaves you aching to know how the animal's death came to be (in a very educational manner of course). There is no overarching plot per say, but time is always passing. Also call it personal bias, but I think this kind of story telling structure is a good way of focusing on those interesting parts of the characters' lives but also letting them grow older in their ever moving lives.

In understanding death, we can understand life. Animals die in this manga. It's a fact of being alive, but this manga balances both an emotional and scientific approach to death. Sometimes, the animals that pass are wild animals, sometimes they're zoo animals and sometimes they're pets but regardless it is somber to think about how one lived as it did and eventually reached the end of that life. There are many cases so there are bound to be a few that tickle your eyes into tears.

Animal facts galore! This mangaka knows animals alright. Ever detailed art of animals, the diverse amount of animals and the most unique element is those facts used in tandem with forensics. Exploring the relationship between animals and humans, this manga opens many unique perspectives on how we live day to day with these creatures. After all, why do we study animals? I think its because we can learn more about ourselves through learning about animals. Yes, this manga embodies that idea as well.

Well! I’m off to read some more!

ENGLISH FAN TRANSLATION:

*Chapter 94 just released today, with an author announcement that next week is the final chapter! (I was there, at 5 in the morning, don't talk to me about it). Call this my personal last karte for this manga (should I have done this post the week after ?!). In celebration, I will recommend something quite similar to fill the void next week! Honestly, I can't believe its ending already... we can honestly continue for 20 more cases right?

The fan-translation is still set to continue for some time, so its not time for me to mourn yet. Maybe this is the equivalent of reading an autopsy report after the manga's death? I'll shut up now.

[theslay3d]

Its more of a healing fic between Silena’s little sister that just got into camp and meets Drew and Drew slowly opens up and becomes Silena’s guardian

Drew Tanaka x Little sister!reader

Warnings:None i think

Word count: 563

A/N i love drew so much so redemption ark!!! also i chose luna as the name because Silena means moon and Luna means moon so... yes slay hope you enjoy bestie pearl

Drew knew that she could be mean. She knew that since forever. She wasn't always mean you see. Silena was her sister. The one who taught her everything. Silena always took care of Drew even when Drew got defensive and cruel Silena was there.

Drew knew something was up with Silena with the whole war going on. She woke up with nightmares every night and would only calm down if Drew or Charlie was there. After Silena betrayed them Drew changed. Everyone, especially her siblings saw that. 

She grew to be mean. To not let anyone, especially a sibling ever get to know her again. Maybe that's why Drew hated Silena after. She had no one after Silena and even if she did she shut them out. She couldn't get hurt if no one truly knew her. 

Until a new daughter of Aphrodite came. 

When Drew first saw the new camper her breath left her. She looked a lot like Silena which made Drew stumble back a step. 

Drew went forward to where the girl was and grabbed her arm. “Hey! Back off your scaring her” Drew said to the surrounding campers who were getting too close to the girl. 

Drew sucked in a breath as the girl's blue eyes met hers. Her eyes were scarily similar to Silenas. The girl smiled “Thank you” She whispered. 

Drew just nodded back. 

After a few minutes Chiron came and took her to see the film. 

Drew just stood there until her brother Mitchell walked up. “She looks alot like Silena right?” 

“Shut up” Drew muttered and walked off. Drew knew it was rude but right now she did not have the patience or energy to say anything else. She walked to the dock and just stared into the water watching all the creatures swim by. 

Drew stayed there for a long time until the new girl walked up. “H-hey i just wanted to say thank you again for helping me earlier” 

Drew turned her head. “You welcome i know the others can be crowding and annoying” 

“Can I sit with you?” The girl asked, tilting her head just like Silena did. 

Drew hesitated before she said yes. The girl sat down close to Drew. “I was claimed” The girl spoke up while fiddling with a bracelet. 

“By who?” Drew asked as she stared out on the lake.

“Aphrodite” 

Drew let a small smile grace her face but it was gone as quick as it came. “That's no surprise you're too pretty not to be a child of Aphrodite.” 

“Does that mean you're my sister?”

“I guess it does” Drew said back. Drew quickly asked “So what's your name kid?”

“Luna. Your name's Drew right? The other campers said your name” Luna didn't mention that they said to stay away from Drew because she was mean. 

“Yep” 

That was the first time they truly spoke and it definitely was not the last. The other campers were shocked when Drew started to seek Luna out and be nice to her. They were also shocked that Luna seemed to be changing Drew into the child she once was. 

No Aphrodite child mentioned the nights Luna would wake up crying and sneak into Drews bed. Just like how Drew did with Silena. 

Drew was Luna's big sister and she would protect her just as Silena once did for her.  

[lostnfounder]

[The following is a transcript of a pursuit that took place between ex-Gazette reporter Ruth Shirbon and THE DEMON OF LOSTFIELD.]

[Sound of a car door slamming shut.]

R: Oh my god. It- It walked towards downtown, but- but at some point it turned and saw me tailing it and started running, so now I- THERE!

[Thudding, sounds like shoes on concrete.]

R: HEY! HEY! STOP IN THE NAME OF THE- [nearly trips] [yelp of terror]

D: [???] NOT GOING BACK! YOU CAN’T FUCKING MAKE ME!

R: STOP, BEAST!! YOU- [turns a corner and the demon has vanished] FUCK!

[Distant rustling. Ruth realizes there’s a hole in the wall of one of the abandoned buildings she’s standing next to, hidden partially behind a dumpster. They push it slightly out of the way and then crawl through the gap.]

R: [muttered as they flick on their flashlight] Where’d you go, demon?

[A clattering of something a few dilapidated rooms away. They turn abruptly towards the source of the noise, shining her light a moment later.]

R: If you think I’m scared of you, I’m not. Come out and face me, coward!

D: [muffled] WHY WOULD YOU BE SCARED OF ME??

R: Wh- You’re a demon.

D: [still muffled] WHAT?!

R: Don’t play dumb with me, creature! I’ve dealt with your kind before!… in ouija board sessions, to be fair! But this is similar enough!

[Silence.]

[Suddenly, a flash of movement in Ruth’s peripheral. She turns, swinging the light so violently in its direction that it accidentally flies out of their hand and bounces slightly towards it, illuminating it in eerie shadow.] [Its long, green-ish black horns twist menacingly out of its head of… normal brown hair. This is still an unexpected demonic trait. There’s a long mark on one side of its face, maybe a scar from some sort of epic demon battle. But it’s around then Ruth notices the fucking honest-to-God sword clutched in its grasp.] [They scream.] [It screams back, backing up against the wall, sword raised high in a menacing position.]

R: A-Alright, demon, uh- [She raises her bat, suddenly seeming a lot less confident.] You have exactly 10 seconds to, uh.

D: To- To what!?

R: To comply!

D: Ah. Uhm. [It stares at her for a moment, as if contemplating this, whites of its eyes wild with... what looks like fear, but that wouldn't make sense, so it must be some sort of strange demon behavior she will need to investigate later. Then, it seems to decide.] No. [It scurries away into the darkness.]

R: F- GET BACK HERE! [Grabs flashlight off the floor, chasing after it.]

[The pursuit continues into what looks like used to be a child's bedroom. Ruth looks around in confusion, having come to a dead end but sure this is where she saw the DEMON go.] [Suddenly, there's an inhale from behind them, and before they can react-]

D: GOOGOOBIE!!

[The DEMON is about to hit her with the sword when Ruth whirls around and abruptly catches it right in the side of the head with their bat. With a yelp, the DEMON falls, and goes still.]

R: Oh- Oh my god. [Looks at bat, then back at the DEMON.] OH MY GOD.

[A brief pause. The DEMON appears to still be breathing, but it is unconcious.]

R: I just- I JUST CAUGHT A DEMON! HAHA! YES!! I WAS RIGHT!! WOOOO!!! [She stretches her arms in the air triumphantly. Their voice gets closer to the mic as she raises the phone closer to her face.] On this day at approximately 5:46 PM, I, Ruth Shirbon, Lostfield Reporter, caught a real live demon and proved my theory! Showfall Media's going down!! [Celebratory laughter. Their cheers just echo back to them. ]

[emeraldhazeart]

Find the Word Tag

Thank you for the tag @hannahcbrown This looks like fun!

The words I was tagged to find were moon, home, hearth, and tears.

Moon: I’m surprised this one hasn’t featured more in my writing. I’ll have to fix that! For now, have this excerpt from Chapter 4 of Wildflower:

  Growing up in a city with permanent light pollution, Claire had been amazed that first night out on her own at just how dark it got in the country. Petrified of stumbling around half blind and falling off a cliff, she’d wrapped herself in the only blanket she’d had, used her lumpy rucksack as a pillow, and vainly tried to catch some sleep on the cold, damp ground.

  Tonight, however, there was no cloud covering the full moon, so the mountainside was bathed in a surprisingly bright silvery glow. Claire found that it wasn’t too difficult to follow the packed earth trail in this light, but she still kept to the middle of path, just to be safe. Falling down the mountain at night would spell almost certain death.

Home: I felt like this excerpt from Grandfather was fitting for this tag:

  No longer needing to shelter them from the wind, Joanna drew back the fabric with her free hand to reveal a little girl clutched to her chest. The child’s eyes were closed in an exhausted slumber, but even so Barley could see the strong similarities between her and his daughter. He opened his mouth, questions bubbling up in his throat.

  “…Not now, Dad,” Joanna murmured in a voice heavy and defeated, and Barley automatically shut his mouth again. His mind was still spinning, desperately trying to catch up, but he recognised that now was not the time to be asking anything. Suddenly, he felt 20 years older than his body actually was.

  “…I still have your old bed…” he finally muttered, already heading for the stairs, “…I’ll just get you some fresh sheets…”

  His daughter didn’t reply, didn’t thank him or apologise for the sudden intrusion. She just silently followed, a few paces behind, as her old dad led the way upstairs in a house she had once called home.

Hearth: I’m ashamed to say I’ve never used this one in my writing, but I do have this piece from Miraculous that I feel fits the theme, if not the exact word:

  Heart pounding, you pulled open the door of your home and were hit with a welcoming blast of warm air. You were so glad you stopped to light the fire before you set off round the farm, even if the sudden warmth did make your face tingle. Trying not to jostle the kitten in your coat too much, you shut the door firmly and banished the freezing storm.

  The tiny animal felt the immediate warmth, and began to wriggle in your arms. You quickly grabbed a small wooden crate that you used to ship crops and a thick hoodie that was draped over the end of your bed. Ignoring the way your boots left clods of snow across the floor, you marched towards the kitchenette.

  You set up the crate and hoodie as a cosy bed for the kitten close, but not too close, to the crackling fireplace, and gently deposited the little creature into the bundle of fabric. The kitten instantly started kneading the comfy cloth, pulling up threads with its tiny claws. You didn’t mind.

Tears: This one featured in so many of my writings! I decided to go for ‘happy tears’ and pulled this excerpt from my favourite piece so far: Photograph:

  Ocean-blue eyes met each other, and the young lady’s hand flew to her mouth, her bag dropping forgotten to the panelled floor. The motion made a gold, heart-shaped locket around her neck glint in the light, and Cliff didn’t have to see inside it to know exactly what photograph it held. His breath caught in his throat, and his knees suddenly felt as weak as an old man’s. Tears started to creep into the corners of his eyes as he watched them spill from the young woman’s.

  “…C-Cliff…?” she breathed hesitantly, as though she was afraid to hear the answer.

  “…H-Heather…” he croaked at last, and all at once it was like someone flicked on the light switch in a pitch-black room. One of them gave a stuttering cry, it was impossible to tell which one, and just like that they were in each other’s arms, hands wrapped around shoulders like they were afraid to let go.

No pressure tags: @sneakyfox55 @friendofbats @durotoswrites @lizzie-tempest and anyone else reading this that would like to have a go :)

Your words are: sunrise, warmth, puppy, and treasure.

[do-it-for-radagon]

HUGE spoilers for GTQ but girl gotta talk: Homen (Radowan)

Okay, I won't shut up about the man for the weeks to come so might as well get it out sooner or later.

I wanted to have a go at the soulsborne's favourite hobby - making a Berserk reference, but actually following what I preach. And here we are. Reverse-engineered Guts.

The Black Swordsman The concept was fairy simple, remake (witcherise, dare I say?) Guts to fit my own home turf of dark fantasy. Polonising beam go. As a base, I've went with one of the best known historical characters who also neatly ties in with Guts' undefeated swordsman trope and having 'the Black' in his moniker. Enter Zawisza the Black of Garbów, who was known for his knightly virtues, and being undefeated (undeterred?) in his conduct. His legend was even preserved in a saying "polegać jak na Zawiszy" [to count on someone like on Zawisza]. Jan Matejko's painting ,"Bitwa pod Grunwaldem" also offered a visual head-start. It is worth noting that in local nomenclature the moniker "Black" usually referred to the hair colour.

Both Zawisza (1370- 1428) and Grunwald (1410) are hallmarks of the Medieval period. Since I keep my themes revolving around Baroque, I had to throw Zawisza in a much harsher time. The set of astonishingly cruel conflicts known as the Thirty Years' War didn't spare lands then belonging to Poland. Religious prosecution, time of contempt and unthinkable violence caused a crisis of faith even among the most god-fearing folk. This is why Homen took part in all of the wars that marked Marika's reign. He has seen horible things and done horrible things, inching closer to breaking the oath he took. Guts

Naming him was notably the most tricky part. I've rejected English equivalents almost straight away and looked closer to home. My first instinct was to look into Polish folklore bestiary - as the creatures' names usually revolved around unpleasant things or were used as curses. The options to chose from included: - Boruta, Fugas,Rokita (the devils) - Licho, Zmora, Bieda (woe) - Mor, Mora (plague) I didn't pick any names with Polish letters in them, though I wanted to. Homen Being in the plague meaning group, Homen is a Carpathian entity manifesting as a procession of ghosts or creatures, who are carrying the Black Death (pl. dżuma) with them. The procession sings and plays instruments, and whoever the Black Death spots - is soon to join the crowd of the dead.

Seen as a 'curse' or nearing danger the name is similiar in its logic to Guts, bearing similar negative imaginery and death connotation. Radowan - Homen's chosen name, outside of its lighter origin [Rad - happy, Rada - advice], just like in the story Homen brings up - belonged to an architect - Majstor Radovan from the 13th century Dalmatia. Worth noting that Radowan's original name, the one he used before he came to the Lands Between is lost to time. Even I don't know what it was. Humanity

Your girle likes to subvert expectations as much as she likes to follow tropes. One of the core aspects of Guts' journey is battling his own inner dark. The cruel desires that come from being a human living in an antagonistic world. All that Guts knows is battlefield. Similiarly, Homen (Radowan), ate his teeth in battle. That's what he learned way back in his home land from his master, and this is something he constantly struggles with. Radowan is much happier making calculations as a quartermaster than swinging his oversized blade at the nearest fool. Truth be told, his mathematical prowess greatly exceeds his skill with the sword. He's also, in contrast to popular trends, short in statue. Being a little shorter than Adrianne (165 cm). This one is for the short kings. Heap of raw iron. The Dragon Slayer. Guts' iconic and woefully oversized weapon of choice. Can't have the Black Swordsman without the Sword huh. Death rites were always a bit eccentric, but few of them could beat the pompa funebris of sarmatic Poland. The Memento Mori crowd liked to be as dramatic as possible, this is why they usually recreated the death scene of the deceased during the funeral service in churches. The more widespread, less extravagant - but still telling act of honouring the dead warrior revolved around breaking the knight's sword and burying it with them.

Add these two and you get an oversized replica of a blade meant to be split in half and used as a tombstone. This is what Epitaph Greatsword meant to be originally. Made for the funeral of Homen's former master. A grand fighter and strategist, a terrible, terrible man. The sword itself is an upscaled Szczerbiec - the ceremonial sword used in the coronations of most Polish monarchs.

The inscription on the blade is a poem by Kazimierz Przerwa-Tetmajer Elegia na śmierć Czarnego Zawiszy" [Elegy for the death of Zawisza the Black]

Nieprzyjaciel to k'niemu nie dąży, nie ma nazwy dlań wrogów nawała — on tu stoi: trwałości chorąży, pan swej duszy, władca swego ciała, ślubowany sam sobie i wpięty w własne koło swego przeznaczenia, ani wrogi, śmiały, ni zawzięty, tylko rycerz… Na miecz swój spogląda, miecz ze stali kuty i z płomienia, krwią nabrzmiały, chociaż krwi nie żąda.

Lofty words meant for a man who, in the most basic understanding of things, maimed and killed. Can it be done with virtue and honor? Such is the reality of war.

The blade is broken - but it's not incomplete. Homen who grew more and more resentful during his service to his master, bound the other's soul to this display of vanity. It serves as the broken end ever since, burning with a ghostly flame when summoned. Both the epitaph and the man vanished from their lands soon after. Here enter the oath. Homen swore that while wielding (posessing) the sword that is basically an eternal punishment for his master, he will never repeat his mistakes (violence, abuse of power and more) That is well, uh, going well for him. Perhaps this is why Death has been so cruelly avoidant of him.

It's 1 am and this has been my TEDtalk

[jmreynolds]

Belanger Books' anthology of all-new Carnacki stories, "The Book of Carnacki". It includes my story of liminal spaces gone wrong, "The Stalls of Wych Street". You can grab a copy from Amazon, but if you'd like a taste before that, I've included an excerpt below:

 “Can a street be haunted, do you think?” Thomas Carnacki asked, as he considered the chess board set before him. A fire crackled merrily in the Restoration fireplace on the far wall, warming the perpetually damp sitting room of the Cheyne Walk residence, as well as the two men who took shelter in it from the rain outside.

“I don’t see why not,” Charles St. Cyprian said, without looking up from the board.  “If houses can be haunted, or trees or wells, why not a street?” He reached for his remaining bishop, paused, and then sat back to reconsider his move.

As he did so, he let his eyes wander. He took in the familiar bookcases, badly in need of organization, the ceremonial masks mounted on the walls and the pair of ikwlas – short, stabbing spears favored by the Zulu – crossed above the fireplace. Strange statuary perched on the mantel or crouched on the untidy shelves like tigers in the long grass. The air smelt of incense and tobacco. It was the exact sort of sitting room one might expect of a man the popular press had dubbed ‘the Ghost-Finder’.

It wasn’t the first time Carnacki had invited him round, but it was the first time that Dodgson, Jessop and the others hadn’t been present as well. He didn’t care to speculate on what it might mean. It had been nearly a year since he’d made Carnacki’s acquaintance, and he still wasn’t sure why the other man had taken an interest in him.

There were precious few similarities between them. St. Cyprian, fresh out of university, with only 3rd class honors to show for his time, was a creature of cocktails and clubs and spent most of his monthly stipend on frivolities and passing fancies.

Carnacki was older by a decade at least, one of the last Edwardians. He dressed like a gentleman but swore like a sailor. And yet, there was a connection between them. Some ephemeral thread that inextricably bound them. For St. Cyprian, it was a puzzlement and an annoyance in equal measure.

“Tell me this then – if a street can be haunted, can it also be the haunter?” Carnacki offered the younger man a cigarette from his case. St. Cyprian took one, but hesitated. He discerned the familiar pattern of a trap in Carnacki’s question.

“Well, if that ain’t a funny question I don’t know what is.”

Carnacki smiled and checked his pocket watch. “Simple enough, I thought.”

St. Cyprian frowned and straightened. He was fairly certain he was winning, but it was dashed hard to tell with chess. All those squares made it hard to concentrate. “I say Carnacki old thing, are you trying to distract me?” He indicated the board.

“Not in the least, Charles. Have you decided on a move yet?”

“I’m still thinking.” St. Cyprian paused again. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“The answer to your question. You wouldn’t have asked unless you already knew. So, let’s have it – can a street haunt its neighbors?”

Carnacki snapped his pocket watch shut. “I don’t know. Why don’t we find out?” He pushed himself up out of his armchair and adjusted his waistcoat. “On your feet, Charles. Inspector Davies will be waiting, I expect.”

St. Cyprian looked up at the other man in surprise. “What?”

“St Clement Danes. Davies is meeting me there. I thought you might like to come along.” Carnacki paused. “Was I wrong about that?”

“I – no. No.” St. Cyprian stood, bemused by the sudden turn his visit had taken.

“Checkmate in three, by the way,” Carnacki said as he headed for the door. “You should learn to watch the board more carefully if you ever hope to win.”

St. Cyprian glanced down at the board and, after a moment’s consideration, ruefully tipped over his king. With a sigh, he snagged his coat from where he’d tossed it earlier and followed Carnacki into the foggy autumn night.

Carnacki stood on the stoop outside, lightning a cigarette and looking across the well-lit street towards the Thames. St. Cyprian lit his own cigarette, shivering slightly in the chill. “What’s at St Clement Danes, then?”

“Wych Street.”

“Which street?”

“Exactly. Come on.” Carnacki crossed the street in his usual rolling stride, buttoning his pea-coat as he went and a halo of cigarette smoke about his head. St. Cyprian jogged after him, awkwardly struggling into his own coat.

“Are we hailing a cab?”

“No, I think not.” Carnacki patted his stomach. “The constitutional will do us both good, I think. Besides, it will give us time to talk.”

“About?”

Carnacki glanced at him. “I think you know, Charles. You’re not as dim as you’d like others to think…though I doubt you’re half as clever as you imagine.”

St. Cyprian forced a laugh. “I daresay I’m not clever at all, old thing. Cleverness is overrated. Dab hand on the pitch though. Ask anyone.”

“I have.”

“And?”

“You’re not as good on the pitch as you imagine either.” Carnacki smiled, lessening the sting of his words. “Nevertheless, you have potential.”

“So my mother insists, daft woman.”

Carnacki sighed and adjusted the collar of his coat to keep out the drizzle. “As I was saying you have potential, Charles. That you choose to waste it as you have is something of a disappointment.” He looked at St. Cyprian. “I heard about that business with the Ponsonby girl’s pet rabbit last week, by the by. I do not approve.”

St. Cyprian looked away. “A harmless jape, Thomas. Nothing more.”

“Necromancy is not harmless, Charles. In fact, it is rather the opposite. And in poor taste, besides. The girl was traumatized.”

“I was only doing as she asked,” St. Cyprian protested. “And it was only a bit of ectoplasm besides. Is this why you invited me along tonight…to express your disappointment in how I conduct myself?”

“Not quite. Have you given any more thought to my offer?”

St. Cyprian frowned. “I hadn’t, no.”

Carnacki stopped and caught St. Cyprian by the arm, forcing the younger man to face him. “The Royal Occultist must have an apprentice, Charles. The position is yours, if you want it. I strongly suggest you take it – for your own good, if nothing else.”

St. Cyprian pulled his arm free of Carnacki’s grasp. He’d never even heard of the office before he’d crossed paths with Carnacki. The idea of someone being invested with the authority of the Crown in order to investigate the supernatural – or the abnatural, as Carnacki insisted on calling it – had seemed ludicrous at first.

But St. Cyprian had seen enough over the last few months to convince him that Carnacki wasn’t simply spinning one of his after-dinner yarns. Police inspectors weren’t the only ones to come to Cheyne Walk, hat in hand. He laughed softly and stared at the river. “I knew this was a trap. Jessop’s right – you always have an ulterior motive.”

“The only trap here is the one you insist on making for yourself,” Carnacki said, sharply. “Gifts like yours can turn sour, if not properly channeled.”

“I don’t have any gifts, Thomas. A few tricks, that’s all.”

“Tricks that could be put to better use than amusing party-goers.”

St. Cyprian blew a plume of cigarette smoke into the misty evening air. “How – by hunting ghosts with you? Not for me, old man. Sounds too much like work.” The thought was ludicrous. Dodgson or Arkwright – even Jessop – would’ve leapt at the opportunity. St. Cyprian preferred his ghosts at arms length, and Carnacki dashed well knew it.

Carnacki was silent for a moment. “Tell me, Charles – are you still having nightmares? About what transpired beneath Guildhall?”

“That’s none of your business,” St. Cyprian said, more quickly than he’d intended. He didn’t like to think about the night of their first meeting, or the events that had occurred thereof. The things he’d seen. Better to push it to the back of the old noggin, and let it lie. “I sleep fine, thank you,” he added. A blatant lie, and one that a part of him hoped Carnacki would call him on. But instead, the older man turned his attentions to the Thames. St. Cyprian fell into a disgruntled silence as they proceeded in the direction of St Clement Danes.

Eventually, he could stand it no more. They were turning onto the Strand when he said, “You still haven’t explained why we’re taking this nocturnal perambulation. There is no Wych Street – there’s an Aldwych, but no Wych Street. Not to my recollection, at least.”

“Ah, but there was. Once. Little over a decade ago, in fact. I’m surprised you don’t remember it. Infamous for its pornographic bookstalls – though I might be confusing it with Holywell Street.”

“Never had much a head for trivia, me,” St. Cyprian said. “What’s so special about this nonexistent street, then?”

“The fact that it apparently still exists, despite being torn down some years ago...”

[sexymen-sanctuary]

fuck, okay

this is like a reverse apple of discord, “to the most screwed over”

loki and wheatley aren’t here, so once-ler gets the claim of starting it all. and that’s its own brand of nightmare fuel, tbh. knowing on some level that you caused this just by existing

that if you go back far enough, it’s all your fault

bill, the second, everything about once‘s path magnified and warped to “fit” a new character and the new environment of another fandom

judging everything I’ve seen out of that fandom since childhood (2014-16, what I consider the “golden era”) I think bill cipher’s fanbase is as good as it is bad; their highs are really high and their lows are really low. I still see billdip in the tags to this day, but they’re a vocal minority that’s only gotten smaller over time, in addition to way more if not all of it being aged-up, so it’s marginally less painful to think about

of course, that leaves out the entire separate but closely-linked hell that is being turned from a literal triangle into a pale, slender twink for the gratification of others, rather than just being born looking like that (once and alastor) or not being pressured to look like that in the first place (sans)

oh god sans where do I even start with sans

the one that broke the mold, so they made a different mold and shoved him in that instead

I think once a sans AU gets too detached and officially becomes just an OC, with all traits / traces of being “a sans” removed, besides just being a skeleton-ish creature with similar build and magic rules, they’re no longer part of the sans fandom and thus no longer his problem. that said, both sanscest and fontcest still crop up across the internet to this day

I do think his general reputation has healed over the years, and surprisingly I think him winning “ultimate sexyman” 2022 and being a finalist for it in 2023 were factors, because I saw so much genuinely serious and thought-provoking discussion about him and his impact between all the ‘sans sweep’ jokes

and alastor, oh alastor: return to form, start of the next generation of sexymen (yes I know black hat exists shut up this ain’t about him), the baby of the bunch— chronologically from a meta standpoint, anyway. in canon, not a baby at all. opposite of baby, in fact

my instinct is to give him the vote because alastor gets SO much shit, but here’s the thing: half of that shit is from OUTSIDE the hazbin hotel fandom

most people I know hate alastor because they hate vivzie. they’re not hazbin fans with a least favourite character, they don’t like hazbin at all. and I get it! it’s perfectly logical that if you hate a person, you’ll likely hate what they create too, because our creations are often a reflection of our interests, ideals, and aesthetics

inside the fandom, of course there’s your usual: harassment, misinterpretation, flanderization, heaps of untagged nsfw, the last of which goes hand in hand with RAMPANT aroace erasure and general aphobia, good lord

but that’s just it: it’s the usual. it’s not new or shocking anymore. just annoying and tiring. and that makes it kinda hard to accurately judge how bad it really is

so I think sans and alastor are both safe from my vote, albeit for opposite reasons

with the book of bill releasing in about a month, I suspect it’ll be less of an explosion of new life and drama and more like a whale fall keeping us going for another few years. at least, I HOPE

. . .

*throws the apple at once-ler*

not personal preferencically, historically- however you interpret historically speaking is up to you, but answer honestly with yourself

[honourablejester]

5e Homebrew Background

HERBALIST

Hedge witches, healers, midwives, poisoners and plant peddlers: herbalists have a reputation as many things. At the heart, though, the herbalist is a scholar of the natural world. You have dedicated a good portion of your life to the study and understanding of plants, their needs, natures and uses, how they can both help and harm other creatures. Some of that time may have been spent in study or experimentation, more of it in woods, hedges and ditches in search of specimens and samples, and perhaps some in aid of others, putting your knowledge to practical use, or simply selling your expertise or gathered materials onwards. Are you a lone scholar, more at home among the trees and plants, with only your notes for company? Or are you perhaps a more gregarious sort, putting your knowledge to good use in your village, town or community? Or something more sinister, supplying darker markets equally in need of your expertise?

Skill Proficiencies: Nature, plus your choice of one of the following: Investigation, Medicine, or Survival

Tool Proficiencies: herbalism kit, poisoner’s kit

Equipment: A set of traveller’s clothes, a herbalism kit, a pair of sturdy leather boots, a journal for your notes, and a belt pouch containing 5gp.

FEATURE: PROFESSIONAL COURTESY

The herbalist’s trade and expertise supply quite a few others. Potion brewers, apothecaries, alchemists, healers and hospitals all greet you warmly, and might be inclined to grant you small discounts on their wares or services, or be willing to supply you with local information should you express an interest, especially if you have knowledge or wares to trade in return.

SUGGESTED CHARACTERISTICS

The study of herbalism draws many types, from pragmatic healers (and poisoners), curious scholars, excitable brewers, and simple lovers of nature in all its myriad structures and forms. All of them, though, will have certain things in common: dedication, precision, and the desire for knowledge. Herbalism is a delicate, precise field, one that requires a lot of time and study, and one that involves a significant amount of searching through wet fields and woods and general exposure to the elements. Herbalists are scholars, but hardy ones, and many will have a distinct practical streak. The purposes to which they turn their knowledge and skills might be varied, but the process of acquiring them breeds a certain degree of similarity regardless.

Personality Traits (d8):

I have a tendency to mutter to myself over my notes and drawings.

I will happily jump off a cliff to reach a rare or interesting plant. Well, ideally I would find a safe way across, but if push came to shove …

I keep a ready supply of a rash-inducing or diuretic plant extract in a vial on my person, in case it should be needed.

I am perfectly willing to lie through my teeth if it gets someone to shut up and take their medicine faster.

I’m an incorrigible gossip and it doesn’t take me long to know the health ailments of everyone in a 10 miles radius.

I don’t like other people touching and potentially disorganising my things.

I’m always willing to wax poetic on the subject of my favourite plants.

I track mud and dirt everywhere, and am usually oblivious to various plant and dirt and chemical stains on my clothing.

Ideal (d6):

Natural Order. Everything has its reason and its rhyme, its cause and effect, its properties and its costs. (Lawful)

Healing. Nature gives us all the tools we need to help it and each other heal and remain strong. (Good)

Experimentation. There are secrets in even the smallest things, and what can we do but try everything we can think of to find them? (Chaotic)

Ruthlessness. The difference between medicine and poison is often simple dosage, and both have their uses. (Evil)

Knowledge. The more we know, the more we can do with this world and all it offers. (Neutral)

Precision. Whatever you’re going to do, take the time and do it right. There’s no cause to be sloppy. (Any)

Bond (d8):

I’ve heard tales of a rare species of plant that can only be found in one location. I desperately wish to find and study it.

I’ve been hired by a palace cook to find new and exotic herbs and spices they can present to their ruler. Preferably in a form that they can then grow for themselves.

A strange new sickness has been afflicting many of the plants in my home, and I need to find the cause and the cure for it.

A local criminal organisation has been pressuring me to supply materials for poisons for them. When I declined, they got … upset.

I’ve heard that a particular city, noble or institute of learning has the most extensive collection of information on the growth and cultivation of herbs in the realm, and I really want to see it.

I made a mistake once in identifying and advising the consumption of an herb. The client was left with lasting health effects. That will never happen again.

I was accused of witchcraft at my previous village and had to flee for my life.

I’m hoping to find a steadier source of income for my skills and knowledge, and I don’t particularly care about the legality (or morality) of that source.

Flaw (d6):

I am significantly more comfortable talking with plants than actual people.

I get extremely annoyed when people are sloppy and imprecise.

I don’t consider the uses other people might have for the knowledge I so readily offer them.

If murder is the quickest solution to a problem, I have some extract of belladonna for that.

I am serenely oblivious of social niceties and all the other silly pretensions of civilisation.

I would absolutely kill someone to protect a plant, without so much as a pause.

[africanotaku92]

Schrodinger's Boy

I missed Phan Phic Phight but now I'm here for Dannymay! Not really going along with the prompts, just wanted to write something for the month.

I dedicate this to @five-rivers because i love their stuff so much!

Please, enjoy!

***

Schrödinger’s Boy

It was dead when she saw it.

Oh so very dead, but walking. Talking. Living.

That really doesn’t make sense, so let’s start from the beginning;

Nelia Ugochi d’Bandinello was not a normal child. Ever since she was young, she could see death. And no, not like the walking skeleton clad in black robes and a scythe most people assume, but real death; the dead, the dying, the undead, all. No one, not even her closest family members knew, and she intended to keep it that way. As long as she kept to her own and didn’t cross the line for the rules, she was safe.

Ever since her family moved to this country, she knew the small, sleepy town was a little dead. The essence was in every nook and cranny, even the air had a thin yet distinctive layer of it. Nothing she couldn’t handle.

That is, until now.

The air’s death suddenly sharpened the moment before it walked in.

At first glance, it looked like a boy. A cute boy in fact. Short compared to her tall. Pale skin in contrast to her deep dark, straight black hair opposed to curly blond. Baby blue opposing forest green. But then, the closer she looked, the more she noticed what was off. Skin was a little too pale to be considered healthy, and became slightly transparent as she saw more. Hair was wispy and floaty, almost defying gravity, almost flowing like it was under water as its head bounced. Eyes a bit more, sunken, a bit more tired. Worst of all, its heartbeat sounded so, so slow.

And now, it was sitting two tables across from her.

She swallowed the milkshake that threatened to spill out of her mouth. She tried to turn back to her food, tried to ignore its presence. But she kept glancing its way, turning back to the most terrifying yet fascinating creature she had ever seen.

And she just. Kept. Staring.

One of its cohorts – the black one with glasses – pointed at her direction, and it suddenly looked over. Their eyes made contact. She gasped and looked away.

‘Such haunting eyes.’ She thought.

“Nelia? What’s wrong?” She looked up to see her brother Irnerio, who had previously been trying to unhinge his jaw to fit an absolutely massive burger, was now looking at her in concern.

“Nothing.” She forced out. She glanced back at them. Her brother’s concerned face was already contorting into a smug grin.

“Oh? Falling in love already?” He chuckled “It’s the pale boy, right?” Her cheeks heated. Definitely not what was happening.

“Shut up.”

“Well, you did say that one of the advantages of moving was ‘Date cute Americans’. Though I must say, I always thought that the goth girl would be more your type. You could both indulge in your weird fascination with death.”

She hit her brother in the ribs.

“Stolto*.” She hissed. “I said shut up.”

Her brother laughed.

***

“Dude, the new girl is totally checking you out.”

Danny swallowed his bite of a burger. “What?”

He, Sam and Tucker had gone to Nasty Burger for lunch that Saturday, and had noticed the two newest additions to the town residence. The girl had been looking at them ever since they walked in.

“She’s probably not into me. Probably looking at Sam. They look foreign, so for all we know, she may be their first goth.”

“An honour I am willing to have with pride.”

“She’s looking over here right now!”

Danny turned to where Tucker was pointing and sure enough, she was looking at them. They made eye contact, and hers widened and she looked away.

“See? Totally into you.” Danny rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, Tuck.” He continued eating his burger. But somehow, he couldn’t shake the stare off of him. As if she was looking past his flesh and staring at the very ghost that made his soul.

He shivered at the thought.

***

Oh God above, it went to her school.

The creepy thing goes to her school.

She wondered how it got into her school. She wondered why, of all things, it had to attend as a student.

Mondays where truly the worst days of the week.

She had learned the creatures name was Danny Fenton, official school weirdo, son of the two most successful ghost hunters (oh the irony), and all-round loser she shouldn’t interact with (according to the Mexican girl that approached her). She didn’t really care though, as much as she was weary, she still wanted to know what it was. And she was determined to find out.

The bell rang, pulling her out of her thoughts. She sighed and pulled her books from her locker. She didn’t want to be late.

***

Hours later, school was long over, and Nelia was busy at work in the kitchen, kneading dough for her second batch of strawberry calzones, the first already in the oven. Her mother stood at in front of the doorway, watching her.

“That’s a lot of dessert calzones for 4 people.”

She finished kneading and started rolling out the dough. “Oh no, ours are part of the last batch. Most of these are offerings.” She turned to her mother. “I’m going to the Cemetery after dinner. To pay some respects.”

Her mother sighed. There was no talking her out of this. Every time they go someplace new, she always paid her respects at a local gravesite. She stopped trying to prevent her a long time ago.

“Well, just be back before midnight. But in the meantime, let me help you close the ones you’ve already filled. We could talk, use some mother daughter bonding time.” She smiled and nodded at her mum, handing her a spare apron. She gladly took it and set to work beside her daughter.

“Have you heard? There’s a story I heard. They say this town has some kind of ghost hero…”

***

It was late in the evening, and she had paid her respects at the last grave when she saw him.

And he was oh so very much Alive.

Silver white hair adorned his head like a glowing crown. Striking, electric green eyes, a black jumpsuit with white boots and gloves. Veins, across his skin, visible with the implication of pure green death flowing in them, the sound of each breath he takes. A pulsating buzz emitting from his chest, almost sounding like a beating heart. These where the features of Amity Park’s local hero and (dead) celebrity, Danny Phantom.

And he had just landed in front of her.

“Um, are you ok? It’s pretty late out.”

She blinked at first, startled to hear him talk, but composed herself enough to speak.

“Ah, yes I’m fine. Just, paying my respects.” She gestured to the grave and the basket of food.

“Oh, really? That’s nice of you! Apart from family, hardly anyone pays respect these days.”

“Yes, it’s something I try to do everywhere I go. Speaking of respect, where’s yours?”

Danny blinked. “My what?”.

“Your grave. I have to pay my respects to you. This is the only cemetery in town, but I didn’t see your grave.”

Danny froze in shock. He hadn’t really thought about it.

“Oh. I kind of, uhm, don’t have one?” Because I’m not really dead.

It was Nelia’s turn to be shocked. And then she was angry. Was this town really so ungrateful that they didn’t have a grave for their hero? That wouldn’t do.

“Where do you want one?”

“What?”

“Where would you want your grave? I’m going to make you one.”

Danny’s eyes widened.

“Your… going to make a grave for me?” “Of course? It’s only common decency, a basic right to the dead. I might not have your body, but if I have a photo to at least mark your image, it would do.”

Danny was stunned by this gesture. No one had offered him a grave before. So, he told her about his ideal spot.

Weeks later, in a secluded spot in the woods, he stands with her above a freshly dug grave, underneath a willow tree, facing directly at the night sky marked with a picture of him in his ghost form. She drops a plate of calzones and lights some lavender incense. She pays her respects and stands back letting him trace over the picture and admire the grave. It’s not the best grave, but it’s also the only one he’s received. He couldn’t help it, as a few tears dripped from his eyes. It was a sweet gift.

He turns to her, clasps his hand in hers. He manages to choke out between tears.

“Thank you.”

She stares back at him. This action, it’s so… human. She senses familiarity, like she could almost imagine him when he was alive……

Oh.

Oh.

The connection between the dead boy and alive ghost hits her like a train, all the similarities adding up. She smiles at him.

“It’s your grave. You should bring your friends to see it.”

His eyes widen in panic, wondering how she found out. She shakes her head.

“I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

He relaxes and nods, let’s go of her hands and they stare back at his very own grave. Sam and Tucker are going to flip when they see it.

That night, she’s back in her room, wide awake, thinking of everything that happened. His hands were cold, but not like death cold. Like he had stuck his hands in the freezer. His tears were so real.

This boy, who was dead yet alive. Walking perfectly on the line between life and death, tittering to neither side.

Schrödinger’s boy indeed.

[introvertedr3ality]

“What a jerk” Millie thought playfully to herself as she walked across campus. He could be a nice guy after all, but it’s best she doesn’t get too close- or maybe she was just afraid to. Being raised in a family of hunters isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Not for a 17 year old, anyway. By the time you’ve made friends and settled into one school, it’s time to relocate. All the moving around made her a social outcast amongst the regular people - as if it weren’t bad enough she already belonged to a lower rank of a whole different society. Her parents heard about Briarwood from a friend. “A place where you’d really fit in.” They’d say. Maybe. Maybe not. At least she’d have some stability this time. Still, that wouldn’t keep her from worrying about her family.

“Hey!” An unfamiliar voice snatched Millie from her thoughts. She hadn’t realized she’d been accompanied by another girl, much like her in figure. Small, petite. She had electric blue eyes as deep as the ocean and jet black hair with a silver skunk stripe, pulled back into a sleek ponytail. “Millie, right?” The girl smiled as the two came to a stop at the end of the line at the entrance of Anubis Hall.

“How do you-“ Millie began, immediately interrupted by Skyla.

“I know things.” Skyla says , placing her thumbs through the loops of her backpack. After a moment, she burst into laughter. “God, I love doing that to people. But you’re literally at Briarwood, you must know I’m a psychic.”

“That was my second guess.” Millie looked away awkwardly, trying to erase the the first mind that Skyla was some sort of stalker. Hunters are prey too. “So, how does that work? You just had a vision you’d meet me right here or did you see it in your crystal ball?”

“No, silly.” Skyla chuckled, “it doesn’t work like that and I don’t have a crystal ball.”

“She doesn’t get sarcasm.” a voice muttered from Skyla’s slightly open backpack.

“Dude, are you carrying a tiny person?” Millie stared at the bag in disbelief.

“Oh shut up, Bruno.” Skyla said, taking the bag off and placing it on the ground.

As she opened it a bit wider, a black cat with a similar silver skunk stripe across its right eye, nimbly hopped out.

“You have a talking cat? What? Are you Sabrina the Teenage Witch?” Millie lets out a small laugh as she bends down to pet the creature.

“Hey, do not pet me! I’m not some kind of emotional support animal. I’m human! H U - M A N! And don’t joke about witches, alright? They’re the reason I’m in this fur coat.” The cat swatted at Millie’s hand.

“This is my brother, Bruno. His ex girlfriend is a witch so you do the math.” Skyla said, watching her brother lick his paws. “You know how hard it is for supers and our kind to get along. This one here had to go and piss a witch off and no one will help us change him back.”

“But aren’t you two like… supers? I mean, being psychic and all.” Millie looked between the two of them.

“Sort of. I see things and he masters telekinesis, but we also communicate with the dead and see ghosts from time to time. This campus is full of them.” Skyla adds in, “No super wants to be seen with the Laurier Freaks.” She jokes.

“Speak for yourself. I have lots of friends that are supers.” Bruno says, standing on all four. “C’mon weirdos, the line’s moving.”

“He barely has friends at all, let alone supers.” Skyla cupped her had around her mouth, whispering to Millie before walking ahead of her. “Back in the bag, Bruno. They’re not giving anything to a cat!”

Millie chuckled, watching the two ahead of her. Maybe she’d come to like Briarwood after all with them around. Maybe she’d see the guy from earlier and make for a proper introduction.

———

A Few Hours Later

———

Millie had finally finished unpacking and decorating her room. It almost felt like home. Just as she’d fallen back on her bed, her door flung open. She rolled over to see Skyla, this time wearing makeup and a dress that matched her eyes and fit her like a doll.

“Okay, we are definitely gonna have to talk about boundaries. I could have been naked.” Mille said, sitting upright, “ what’s the special occasion?”

“Please. You’ve got nothing I haven’t seen before and Bruno’s napping in my room.” Skyla said, entering the room and shutting the door behind her. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

“Dressed for?” Millie raised a brow.

“The party. You are going, aren’t you? Yes, so come on, get up.” Skyla walked over to Millie’s closet, looking through her wardrobe. “I like your style chick. Doesn’t matter what you put on, just not your travel clothes. Chop, chop! We’ve got half an hour!”

“Do I have to?” Millie groaned. It was as if she and Skyla had been friends forever.

“Uh, yeah. It’s the welcome party which basically means it’s for us. Plus, I saw you there so that means I must’ve convinced you to get your booty up and get dressed. It’s gonna be fun!”

Here We Go Again

Looking around, he couldn't find even the slightest reason why he belonged there for the third year. The doors were easily three times his height, darkly stained and thicker than any doors he'd ever seen. The walls of the building were made with a dark brick, windows placed evenly all around. Elixr could see a mass of people through each window and even the doors that were propped open, welcoming the new students for the new school year.

"Another year, another group, another reason to get out of here." Elixr rolled his eyes and turned to his older brother with a grin. "You wanna join me?"

"Elixandr, get your ass in there and get your class schedule. Why can't you ever just be normal?" Chuckling and shaking his head, Jaxon shoved Elixr towards the doors and walked off.

"I can't stand your ass, Jax!" Elixr started walking backwards towards the doors, staring at his brother and flipping him off with a grin. "You better not flake tonight!"

"Excuse you, I'm trying to walk here." A firm shove from behind him causes Elixandr to freeze and turn around, coming face to face with an annoyed glare on a 'too pretty' face. "Do you mind?"

Elixandr just stares at the girl, his usual smirk sitting on his face as he tries to figure out who he's looking at. "I do mind, actually. Who are you? Oh, and my bad miss. I didn't see you there." He shrugs and takes a step back to get a better look at her.

[ilikeyoubetterthisway]

Bring Karura BACK!!

Hellooooo.

Here I will just quickly (not really), explain a bit of my theories about the manga regarding Ryuuji and Karura, along with the rest of the Immortals, and what I'm expecting/hoping to happen for the rest of the war arc and other tidbits I found laying around.

Enjoy!!

First of all I want Ryuuji to be able to summon Karura, they literally have Tatsuma and Gozo discussing about the possibility of summoning him back from the vessel of forced possesion (aka. Todou).

Like, they wouldn't just hint at this possibility and then not doing it in the future, and even more now that they are in the middle of a war against very strong forces.

They are talking about summoning him back, but there's no need since Ryuuji still has his contract on going.

We have been drilled into our heads of the outstanding regenerative powers of Karura by Todou not shutting his mouth about it during the Kyoto Arc, so I would guess he (Karura), would be able to easily come back from dying and being used as a lab rat for the elixir that helped to perfect Satan's cloned body.

This could also be followed by his similar demon kind used for the same experiment, the Ouroboros and Hydra, since they are also creatures/demons of regenerative abilities that represent death and rebirth, destruction and creation. (And we also know that the more powerful the demon, the faster it can regenerate, like how it took Lucifer a few hours to return from being destroyed during the Blue Night, it could also apply to the Immortals but would take a bit longer).

According to the legends:

Phoenix: (Karura) A fire bird that arises from the ashes of his own predecesors. Death and rebirth. A cyclical life.

Hydra: (Hachirotaro) A water and wind snake/dragon that regenerates its head by double every time one gets cut down. Death and rebirth. A ciclical life.

Ouroboros: An (earth??) serpent reptile that eats its own tail, continually eating itself and being reborn from itself. Death and rebirth. A ciclical life.

Anyways, I want Ryuuji to summon Karura back because he never frickin broke the aeon wave flame contract with him and he was also the last one to have an actual, valid contract, since Tatsuma clearly passed it down to Ryuuji (1), (2), and he explicitly said after, that his contract with Karura was broken (3).

While with Ryuuji, he simply fainted from exhaustion during the Impure King battle, but it was never declared that their contract broke or was annuled in some way.

Like, just how it happened during the Kyoto Arc, Karura divided himself into two beings, one with Todou and the other one with Ryuuji, and thus the elixir experiment being succesful means that Todou and the other chosen ones died along with the immortal demons. A part of Karura died but the other part still lives inside Ryuuji.

That means that the forced possesion with Todou and all the other guys was broken and they can go to being independent but Karura would go back to Ryuuji since their contract was never broken.

And he would go back to him on full power too, because if you remember when he split up, Tatsuma had already broken/lost the generational contract with the head priest of Myo Da but still had his personal one between himself (Tatsuma Suguro) and Karura (the aeon wave flame contract). What Ryuuji "inherited" was the smaller and younger (time wise) contract of Tatsuma and Karura, thus that's why Karura was so smol and cute and nesting on top of Ryuuji's head agh the cutie bean.

Meanwhile, what Todou devored and then proceeded to force bodily possession on himself, was the larger, oldest self of Karura that was in the contract (now broken), between the head priest of Myo Da and Karura.

Karura told Tatsuma that their generational contract was broken because Mamushi, Rin, Todou and many people learned about it but Tatsuma told him that the personal one was still standing. Karura was just like "fine" but his body stayed the same, it didn't diminish in size or anything, until Todou devoured the available part of Karura (the generational contract).

I do believe that a generational contract has more power than a one life time contract but at this point it just depends on the different amounts of contracts the demon has, how many "bodies" it posesses; and if it only has one valid contract then, despite the lack of generational length of it, the full power of the demon would still go to the one active contract, which in this case would be Ryuuji's.

2. Also, we know that Karura asks in return secrets, he feeds on lies and suspicions, of making things secret.

Almost or if not all of Myo Da's secrets were revealed during the Kyoto Arc, so Ryuuji can't really feed him with that, but, he just became Lightning's apprentice which entails him to all the secrets about Section 13, the Okumura brothers, Yuri, Shiro, Mephisto, Satan, the demon kings, the Asylum, the Illuminati, the entire Order of the True Cross, etc, etc.

All that information spans at least over 16 years of secrets and lies, since the birth of the Asylum and the True Cross. Ryuuji really got hit with all that on the face in less than, what? 1 week?? four days??, that is more than enough to keep Karura satisfied for the following weeks or even months in regards to secrets.

Besides, I want to point out how when they were starting their investigation and Lightning went to question Mephisto about it on his bathtub, Mephisto was kinda going to play hard to get, but we got a few panels of him glancing towards Ryuuji and then immediately agreeing to talk. (Imean, isn't this weird? Why would he decide to spill one of his biggest secrets right after seeing the boy in the demon contract with an immortal that feeds specifically on secrets, hmmm... I wonder wHy...).

(gah, I remember reading this chapter when it came out and finding it weird that Ryuuji was focused on here and was practically the reason for Mephisto to start talking, sigh... li'l ol' me already knew there was some shady stuff happening but was too young and too early to realize it, damn. dis is some gud stuff).

(Also, poor Ryuuji, the amount of distress and torment he endured during this entire time must have been exhausting, thankfully Lightning and Izumo, along with his entire family and friends, helped him to calm down, gosh he needs a hug).

And just to finish it up with a nice touch. After telling them where to find Section 13, Mephisto says this:

._.

"Raising suspicion" ah? Dear Mephy? Because you know that someone has the immortal demon chicken that feeds on lies, suspicions and secrets?? HM??? You wanna keep him well fed ah?? I wonder for wHat specific event that may happen in the future he would come in handy... (cough the war cough if you didn't realize it already cough)

Now, I'm not sure if a few people knowing the truth would affect the amount of nice food that Karura gets, like how Uwabami and Jaozo kinda knew about some of the stuff Tatsuma was hiding, so maybe the food effect would only last up until Ryuuji, Izumo, Osceola, Lucy and Lightning saw the whole laboratory thing with Drac and showed Angel.

And also, if Karura feeds on secrets, it could also be secrets not even known to the user, like before all the Lightning stuff, in between the Kyoto Arc and the Section 13 arc, (as well as throughout the entire manga), Ryuuji was developing, harboring and realizing his feelings towards Izumo, I'm sure Karura could feed off of that too, for more simple they could be, they caused a great deal of confusion and conflict during the Illuminatic Arc right until he confessed them to Izumo, but even after that, only Izumo knows about them, is just one person, so the secret is still a secret, nobody else knows (officially), he still doesn't know if his feelings are corresponded and still feels and seems conflicted whenever Izumo gives or receives some kind of attention from another guy (Rin, Shima), all that inner turmoil, doubts and suspicions would keep Karura well fed inside Ryuuji.

3. Also, why in the universe would Kato sensei give us this big hint in the official art of the 10th anniversary with Ryuuji holding his Buddhist priest beads with red fire coming out of it for literally no reason unless is foreshadowing for something that later could be important and relevant??

(Also, look at dem ships beautifully standing one beside the other, the boy's arms holding them inside their own body frames, sighhh cuties <333)

Also, I love the fact that the three boys from the gang (sorry Koneko, you are our strategist man), have the three different flames from Gehenna and Assiah:

Ryuuji: Red Flame, Assiah's physical fire, that destroys the physical aspect of the things, the vessel of possesion or external temptaint. (Ryuuji thinks and feels too much, you know, non-tangible things, so he would have the red flames in order to balance himself out).

Shima: Black Flame, Gehenna's spiritual fire, that destroys the demon possessing the vessel while leaving the vessel intact. (Shima is all about physical desires and dreams so he needs the spiritual flame in order to balance himself out).

Rin: Blue Flame, Assiah and Gehenna's fire in one, being able to burn both the physical and non physical being. (And Rin being both human and demon has the special blue flames that are both spiritual and physical flames that also help balance himself out).

4. And continuing with the talk about the three immortal demons.

They are fire (phoenix), water (hydra) and earth (uroboros) [most likely].

We know that Ryuuji has a contract with Karura and has used him before, his powers include regenerative abilities and shields.

Yukio has some affinity in summoning water type demons (the naiads, and he just needs more confidence bc he's already able to summon eight of those things like plEase), as well as he had an almost contract with Hachirotaro himself so that could mean something you know?, his powers include hypnotic abilities, and regenerative abilities with his blood. Shura could come here and help him manage the new powers since she used them for so long and had a contract with Hachirotaro.

And I guess the earth demon, ouroboros, could only be for Shiemi..? since she's related to the earth as well, but I'm not that sure, I still need to find someone that can make that contract and find the actual demon in the manga jaja.

Maybe, they will unite, along with Mephisto's special weapon, to lower Satan's body defences, and then everyone will strike together like the good shonen manga that this is, because if Satan is defeated by the dumb Devil *star* Banisher thing that Mephisto created and the manga ends right then and there ima just gO.

Also, that thing of Satan dying thanks to Angel's Holy Light Descension is pure bs since I'm pretty sure Satan will regenerate by next chapter (what was the entire point of the immortal's regenerative powers, if not for this kind of situation?), or he will proceed to try and posess Rin because he was going to be his og vessel, anyways, this war cannot be that short, I want to see everyone participating and I hope Lucy is okey :c.

I'm not saying I want nakama power to win the big war, I want a good demonstration and participation of every member of the gang with all their new skills, abilities and powers in the final battle to see their development and growth. Gah please.

Also, please, Ryuuji, just summon Karura and kick someone's a$$ alreadyyyy ahhhhh. And I want to see my goddess Izumo perform the Metamashizume no Harai ritual again and kick some a$$ as well. Those special capes must come in handy if they keep the stamina inside the body of the individual, is different if the person was already worn out, injured and tired (like Yukio), but it could be different with someone who was pretty ok for the most part (like Ryuuji, Izumo, Koneko, etc).

Anyways, thank you so much for reading all the way here! This is all a theory and some analysis I came up with, sorry for the many paragraphs and if it's confusing as well for the weird english.

I hope you look forward for the next chapter as much as I do! :D

See ya next time~~!!

[oneoftheprettynerds]

Worth The Eternity: Dark! Bucky x Reader (Vampire AU + Mob AU + Soulmate AU)

This is for @cherienymphe’s 5K Twilight Renaissance Writing Challenge. Congratulations, keep slaying! I wrote this instead of studying, so pray for my paper please lmao.

A/N: This tired girl tried. 

WARNINGS: something between dubcon and noncon present. Triggering, darkish themes.

Summary of sorts: Ever seen Hotel Transylvania 1/2/3? In this AU, mythical creatures exist and have soulmates and you feel a zing if you are blessed enough to encounter them.

"Boss, we narrowed it down to these core three suspects.” A husky voice, slightly muffled by the sack on your head, entered your ears and you had a hard time being calm.

You had been picked up from your office, specifically the basement of Oscorp Industries while entering your sleek silver car. A pinch in your neck and everything comically blurred. Next thing you know, you are waking up with your entire body sore, your muscles and joints screaming and begging for freedom from tight restraints. Your vision is black, as if you are staring into an abyss and your vision is filled with white and red dancing spots forming patterns, maybe from the hours of inactivity.

Muffled noises of protest and scraping of metal against the concrete floor entered your ears and you realized you are not the only one here held captive. You racked your mind for possible explanations but couldn’t come up with one.

You lived a very simple life, even as the vice president of Oscorp industries. No messing around, no rivalries with other employees, no butting heads with the seniors on the Director’s board. Was this a ploy against the company? Or a domination statement against the weaker species, the humans?

Lucky enough for you, you realized you would soon find out as the sound of a shutter opening and metal clanking noisily filled your ears.

“Took you long enough, Scott. Fill me in.” Another brooding voice reprimanded jokingly and a million goosebumps traveled the path of your skin as you involuntarily shuddered.

“Yes Boss. We tracked the missing sum to the account of this man on the left. He has fourteen other accounts under different names and nationalities, pretty hard to trace but not impossible luckily. This proved he is shady so he’s most definitely involved.”

“This ginger on the right, he made the suspicious call with weird words so we believe he pretty much passed the verdict, calling the shots with the codewords. He has had several surgeries, his face is fucking silicon at this point but his DNA showed us his true identity, Mr. Rumlow here is the Consigliere of The Midnight Moon.”

You sat and listened, piecing together whatever you understood. The pack/mob name more than rung a bell, it scared you shitless. You were quick to catch on, realising that you were caught in an inter species scruffle.

“This shit just got interesting folks. Alright, where does Miss Sexy Legs fit in all this?”

The pencil skirt you wore wasn’t the most modest piece of clothing to exist and the spaghetti straps blouse was a bad choice considering the sheer coldness in this warehouse, the temperature only seemed to go down with the entry of your kidnappers but it’s not like you knew this was going to happen.

You could only assume with your legs on display that you were the one being sexualised and talked about.

“We are not sure about her though, that’s why I said suspects. We have proof the call was made from her phone but the videos show her lending it to a creepy stranger at a café. It might be really good acting but it’s highly unlikely. We brought her in because in the transfer of the stolen cash, her account was an intermediary but it’s a good chance that she was tricked when her phone was borrowed by Mr. Rumlow. Also, she’s a human, you see?”

If it was you being talked about, you felt a jot of relief, just a smudge because at least they were aware you weren’t involved in whatever game they were playing. That didn’t necessarily ensure your freedom, but hey, you were willing to take anything at that point.

“That’s the sweet fucking scent I keep on smelling!” The leader exclaimed as if he made a great discovery, a cure for a pandemic or cancer you’d think. His gruff voice almost had a light, cheery undertone to it, too unlike of a man who was wronged and cheated and was close to murdering someone no doubt. These mobsters are always maniacs like The Joker.

“It sucks that you brought her here. She might not be guilty, but now she knows too much. She’d make a good blood bag though. Maybe I’ll just have a taste, who knows?” The ‘boss’ made a disturbing slurping noise and your heart stopped at his words, a tear almost escaping your eye.

Discussion about drinking blood? You were most definitely in The Vamps territory, your assumption about the inter-species conflict true. You had no doubt you were the weakest in this creepy space, the frailest here, most probably the only human.

“Show me the bastards’ faces.” Like the flip of a switch, the joking man swapped his personality and all but growled. You heard the ripping of cloth and a man gagging, his shrieks muffled. Another flurry of movements and another man retching on the fabric could be heard.

“Well, hello Mr. Rumlow. I must say, brown suited you better.” A horde of chuckles made you widen your eyes, even though only black still filled your vision, as you realised there were at least a dozen twisted, sick men in the room. The fact that they were silent as fuck till now only showed you how disciplined and regimented these soldiers were.

“This one has a pretty face, boss.” You felt the sack ripped off you, and your eyes closed with the sudden flooding of the lights. Your eyes sealed due to hours of inactivity and you kept them shut, afraid to face your tormenter.

A cold hand cupped your cheek and straightened your face that was trying to hide itself in your silky locks by curling in your own neck, the cool metal of rings and insanely icy fingers chilling you literally.

“Open your eyes sweetheart.” A voice called out behind you and you gathered enough courage to face your impending doom, the air as silent as the calm before a storm.

Your orbs opened and gazed into piercing sapphire blue eyes and everything behind this chiseled face blurred. You could swear a ring of pink and red passed over his eyes and you shuddered again, getting overwhelmed due to the eye contact yourself. This wasn’t the usual anxiety you felt while meeting new people, it was somehow both a pull and a push. An inviting comforting pull and a terrifying, ‘stay cautious' push.

You, a self-sufficient woman, who had been independent for as long as you could remember, suddenly felt half; incomplete in a way that you couldn’t fathom. You felt an attraction, a tug towards the man in front of you, and the absurdity of the thoughts and emotions that popped in your brain made you heave on the gag.

Your intellect couldn’t find a reason, your view on love and romance until now completely conflicted. You believed soulmates to be separate pieces of art that complemented each other when together; then what was this broken jigsaw puzzle sentiment you were having now?

Your wide eyes somehow managed to break free of his stare, panicking and looking around to observe, which wasn’t comforting in the least as men with guns and gadgets filled your vision. You were relatively unharmed in comparison to the beaten lads beside you, one with a bruised face and the other with a bloody one.

The handsome man, the Boss’s stare didn’t leave you through the entirety of your searching around, you were sure they saw you as a scared little rabbit, waiting out its inevitable death.

“Lost in her eyes, Boss?” The sideman cracked what he believed to be the funniest joke in existence, earning laughs of the horde of the soldiers around.

 Your eyes went to the Boss’s face, surprisingly when his left your face to glare a nasty stare on his trusted man. His muscular form raised the forelimb, his hand signaling to stop, that effectively quietened the room to a pin drop silence.

With gentle fingers, the man took off your gag and yours lips quivered, throat too dry to make a noise though. You greedily gulped the air through your mouth for whatever reason, maybe just to move your jaw after hours of inactivity.

Maintaining eye contact was challenging, arduous to say the least. It seemed as if he could read you, find everything about you there is to find by studying the flecks in your orbs. His delicate hands, loosened the ties and you were now more so confused, along with the trepidation.

Just what the fuck was going on?

Bucky had almost lost hope, centuries on this planet and no one to love and cherish, no personal confidante, no soulmate. But good things take time, right? And in his opinion, best things take an eternity. He knows this now.

Expect the unexpected was the truest phrase, idiom whatever it was, in this moment. He had spent countless nights wondering about his soulmate, was she pretty? Ugly? Was she even a she or not? Dumb or witty? He made a lot of scenarios of how they’d meet, the kids, reigning together. He entertained the idea of her being from a different species, a nymph, an orc, maybe a werewolf?

And now that he found her, it was a revelation, a surprise honestly. After all optimism got evaporated, after traveling the dark tunnel for centuries literally, there she was, his beacon of light. Finding her was a wonder, and her being a human was astonishing, a possibility he somehow failed to consider, but he was over the moon cause there she was, right in front of him now. A beautiful, stunning lady in flesh and blood, human flesh and blood, with the prettiest eyes he had ever seen. His zing.

He always liked humans, apart from the similar appearances the vampires shared with them, they were always docile and accommodating. In the last few millenniums, after the mythical creatures showed themselves to the world, the humans understood their place and tier pretty early.

They were smart to surrender and be peaceful as all the species came to light, clever to know that even with less numbers they could be overpowered and bloodshed was detrimental to all involved.

He knew he would convert you soon though, your lifespan far too short for his liking, and obviously, now that he found you, you were to rule together. For Centuries.

His happiness was over taken by the realisation that you were not in the most hospitable settings, you were tied and strapped, being preyed on by his men. He made quick work of the restraints, allowing you to breathe by loosening them first. Your scared, trembling form plucked his unbeating heart’s strings, but strangely enough, his brain found amusement and he felt smug. Seeing you tied up and trembling was definitely a turn on for him, noted.

After commanding his foolish men to stop giggling, he leaned closer to you, your aura comforting and intoxicating as he smelled your hair. A divine scent, an addictive one for sure. The goosebumps on your skin confirmed the reciprocation of his connection.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you.” His husky voice, calming but imposing resonated in your ears, his hand tapping your cheek on the other side. Even though the private statement was whispered for you, the deafening silence made every person witness it.

He leaned back, his hands behind his back as he grinned, tone again light like earlier and commanded, “Get her out of here and cleaned up, tell Nat and Wanda, they’ll know what I mean. Then we’ll deal with these guys here, after the lady leaves of course. No scratch on her from this point forward or you’ll lose a limb. Proceed.”  

All three of you, the hostages were going to get ‘taken care of’ but in different ways.

It had been over twenty hours for sure, you were abducted in the early hours of the morning and now the moon was out again, like one endless night. You remember being escorted to a sleek black car; your limbs ached but you managed to keep up. You tried to keep up with the car’s turns, trying to memorize the streets but your head was pounding and eyes were blurry.

You remembered being led to a suite in an expensive hotel like ones where your conferences were held, being taken to room and given towels to clean up. You didn’t change the dress when given another, the attire being a summer dress even shorter.  A woman came a while later named Wanda who checked the forming light contusions and scuffed skin with hands so delicate, as if you were precious cargo. You were, you just didn’t know.

You didn’t eat anything they provided and after hours of conspiring and overthinking, you heard sturdy footsteps. Since your arrival, only women bothered with you, probably the ones the leader sent. But these were heavier, harder.

The door opened and you glanced up to find the leader who demanded your locking up in this fancy place, his eyes travelling on your form sat up on bed, as you mindfully pulled your skirt down. You were anxious the entire day, dreading your future but nothing was like the restlessness that ran through you in this person’s presence.

Maybe it was the fact he was a vampire, or the leader of a Mob or maybe both, but whatever it was he intimidated you, alarmed you, even though you’ve had only two encounters including the present one. You were smart to be scared, he looked at you like, like you were something to eat, your mind told you.

“Hey.” His raspy voice caught you off guard, not having heard a single syllable out of the women the entire day, your questions being ignored the entire time.

You stared at him warily. Your mind having a myriad of emotions and thoughts. You didn’t want to trigger him, besides the place being armed well, he was a vampire, a beefy one at that and you would be stupid to try anything. Shouting and making a scene was no good either, your best option being the lamest one: to talk it out. You refused to become a willing blood bag.

You let out a long sigh, surprising him somehow, “Look, I have money, resources in the business sphere, information, what do you want? I know I got caught in this by accident, but I’m willing to do a lot of things to get out. Name it and I’ll do my best.” You said with your ‘business deal’ voice, the wise, guiding leader voice from your office.

For some reason though, the man found it hilarious. He slapped his hand on his chest, his boisterous laugh echoing. It wasn’t that good a joke if he believed it to be one. Men, ever so condescending.

“Humans, ever so gluttonous. I don’t want your money, precious.” His term of endearment didn’t fall short to your ears, but you had larger things in play here than a sweet nothing.  

“I have other things to offer, name it.” Within your moral sphere, of course.

“You still don’t get it, do you? And you humans boast you have everything figured about us.”

He neared you and you leaned to the inner area of the bed, refusing to get cornered to the wall if things escalate and wanting to have the option of running away, probably in vain though. With each step he took, a new shudder ran through you because of the closing distance between your bodies, it getting triggered in unexplainable ways.

You didn’t need to say words to prompt him to explain, your scrunched eyebrows already doing that mission. “You should feel it too, you know? The goosebumps, the bewilderment in your insides, you’re intoxicated by my very presence too, aren’t you?”

The more he neared, your breaths quickened visibly, his words becoming truer. Your skin heating, mind losing a bit of consciousness. His presence didn’t affect you to this extent in the warehouse, but now? You were putty, almost incapable to think. You tried to roll over to the other side but your plan failed because he caged you with his bulky hands on your shoulder, body diagonal across yours. With how slow and out of it you were, he didn’t even need his heightened speed to trap you.

“Oh, it’s kicking in, isn’t it? The realization, the surge of love and lust? To be held and cherished and be full of me?” He smirked at your trembling form, your chest heaving and weak arms trying to push him off.

“I’ve read humans feel flushed, hot, so let’s get you out of these scraps, yes?” He slid off the thin straps while you mumbled a very unconvincing ‘stop’. Both actions were pretty pointless because he wouldn’t stop, you both knew that and also, he ended up taking the top off over your torso the normal way.

Your hands barely managed to land themselves on his wrist to pull them off, but the foolish limbs ravished in the feel of his cold skin instead. It was like a high you had never experienced and your body wanted more. It was already addicted to the feel of this stranger whose name you didn’t even know.

He unzipped the skirt, your pathetic body no longer even fighting him as he rambled on. “Among us vampires, well not much to tell but we’re all freezing cold when we find our ‘zing’. Like every normal day. Except for the inability to think and the need for their mate’s blood, of course.”

He came back up to kiss you, his body now in line with yours as one hand held your cheek and the other groped your breast. You had an out of body experience, feeling disgusted for reciprocating the kiss but also wanting more of that, more of him.

He trailed down your neck to your collarbone and you gasped for air, your thoughts incoherent. He kissed between the valley of your breasts, removing the bra sometime in between as you heaved. He wanted nothing more than to rest in those swells for an eternity.

As soon as cold air hit your nipples, one was being sucked while other was being pinched. The nameless stranger alternated between licking like a kitten and sucking like a baby on the breasts. Your rational part felt gross but the dominating side was the one experiencing delight.

He kissed down the sternum, to your bellybutton and then hovered above the thin, flimsy underwear. His hands slid down your sides, down the curve of your waist and hooked themselves at the cloth’s side, pulling them down in a swift motion.

Your legs quaked, trying to close themselves but one muscular arm on your thigh was able to hold them off, throw one away from the other. He leaned down and you were pathetically still under his muscles, your lower limbs either not daring to move or not wanting to.

You wrapped your hands around your torso to hide a bit of yourself, but did that really matter in the larger picture of the events unfolding right now?

You closed your eyes, tears already escaping since minutes ago as you tried to accept the reality of what was happening. A cold sensation on your little button caught you off guard; an infinitesimal fraction of time later, an inhale reached your ears.

You looked down, opening your eyes to find the man smelling you, his Grecian nose poking through your folds and taking in sniffs of your intimate part.

“Please sto-”      

“The scent at its source, so fucking divine. I want a taste.” With that, your sentence got interrupted by his words and then by his action as his tongue licked away. It sucked on the bead, delving in the cavity there pretty fucking deep and he slurped away like he pretended to do when you were blindfolded.

Your back arched like a gymnast, hands that were folded across your chest clawing at your own skin, leaving marks behind. His hands were hooked around your thighs and they threw your legs on his shoulder some point in between. When he thrusted three fingers at once, an audible wheeze left your lips, your noiseless gasps now hoarse ‘Aah’s and you could feel him smirk.

There a also a lot of teeth involved with his razor sharp canines that appeared out of nowhere during this and when he thrusted his fingers particularly hard with his teeth nibbling on your sensitive bud, you shamelessly let go of the inside flow.

It felt humiliating and mortifying, your body glowing with the aftereffects of descending into bliss while your mind wanted to cry. Your soul was surprisingly content with what unfolded, at peace. You hated the diversity of emotions you felt, revolted to find even a bit of positive sentiment at your assaulter’s actions.

While your inner monologue happened, the man got up and out of his clothes painfully quick. You tried to sit your up, feebly trying to escape but ineffectively so. Your eyes couldn’t meet the handsome stranger’s nor did you want to see him naked and removed him form your eyeline, making you get caught off guard when his hands wrapped around your ankles and pulled you down, finishing the small distance you managed to crawl up.

His hands left their place as he kissed his way back up your flushed skin, from the swell of your ankle to the swell of your stomach. He licked away the drops of blood around the crescent scratches left by your nails under the intense ecstasy he forced upon you. Then he continued his journey from the swells of your chest to the swell of your cheek, taking you in a fiery, needy yet affectionate kiss.

Your surroundings blurred a second into the kiss, mouth and skin hungry for his touch alike. A thrust had you painfully gasp as you were stretched unlike ever before, impaled to a depth unlike ever before. He kissed away your tears that continued to spill on command of your ashamed mind and leaned back to look into your eyes, a pretty pink passing over them for a fleeting second.

His blue orbs bore into yours and you almost believed he loved you by the intensity of his gaze. At this moment in time, nothing but you two mattered, connected and finally together. How you got here didn’t matter, how unwilling you were didn’t matter. This felt right, felt necessary and was worthy of everything you went through. The rational part seemed to die the instant you two physically connected and somehow, everything and nothing made sense.

But you felt complete.

Your lips captured his of their own accord, and you both smiled into the caress of your lips while he began thrusting, one hand on your waist, the other supporting his weight. Out of breath, he leaned back, still thrusting though, and gazed at you. “Scott back there, he called you pretty, that’s practically an insult. The way you look right now, you’re much more than beautiful. You’re ethereal, my Zing, the loveliest in existence.”

His genuine words tugged at your heart. For some reason you believed him, had confidence in his feelings. Your foreheads connected as he quickened, his hand caressing your skin, the cool against your warm skin soothing. It didn’t take long for you to let go again this time; your previous resolution already dissolved. He neared your ears and whispered, “I want you to scream my name. It’s Bucky.” You nodded absentmindedly, chasing the high.

One particular thrust paired with his canines piercing your skin made you cry out “Bucky!” and you felt him smirking in your neck, lapping the blood. You wilted in bliss and your eyes closed, warmth filling you minutes after. Your eyes were dazed and you felt ‘Bucky’ shift, removing his towering frame from you, a goofy smile on the chiseled face.

With mind free of the aforementioned disapproving thoughts, you checked out his handsome face. It was like you saw him in an entirely different light now.

He gave you a quick peck, his hands cradling your face and he spoke with the utmost sincerity. “You are worth the wait, precious. No measure of time with you will be long enough. But we’ll start with forever to compensate. I’m never letting you go.”