#it at least still offers the most diversity in whatever form

[snow-body]

Arcane is so good, i often wish it actually had a story based game, instead of whatever LOL is...

[thatoneafkguy]

First post here: Sharing a short story about one of the villains from my D&D game named The Ocelot! Hope people enjoy it and any feedback is welcomed.

Ling ran. With her daughter Tai held tightly against her chest, she sprinted as fast as her feet could carry the two of them, under twisted vines and over gnarled roots. She had long since forgotten where she was running to, or how long she had been running through the labyrinthine Khu-Rung jungle, or even most of the people she had left behind. And yet she dared not stop; not to rest, not to assess her surroundings, nor to look back for the others who had started running with her. All of this was because of the one thing she couldn’t forget: what - or rather who - she was running from.

The being she ran from was only known as ‘The Ocelot.’ Nobody could agree on what exactly The Ocelot looked like, since nobody had seen it yet and lived to tell their story. It was said that, if you were close enough to see it, it was close enough to kill you. Why it killed was also little more than speculation. The only thing people knew about it was that it had a humanoid form, because only humanoid footprints were left at the scene of its slaughters. It was for this reason that inhabitants of Khu-Rung were strongly encouraged to travel in groups whenever possible. If The Ocelot was sensible or at least logical, a big enough group would convince it to not attack and look for an easier quarry. If it wasn’t, well, at least you weren’t forced to die alone.

Were it not for Tai, perhaps Ling would have stayed to try and protect her fellow travelers. As a lifelong nomad, she was raised to value the people she traveled with, and to stand up to them knowing they would do the same for her. Perhaps standing up to The Ocelot might not have accomplished much, but she would have died feeling less guilty than she currently did.

And yet, Ling still ran. For all the remorse she had over leaving behind the other travelers, she knew deep down that protecting her daughter was her top priority. Tai was old enough to walk, but certainly not old enough to even attempt to run away on her own. To Ling, her child was more precious than anything else in the world, so when The Ocelot appeared she reacted accordingly. Tai’s father Mingze offered to try and create a diversion to buy the two some time, and while Ling didn’t necessarily agree with the plan she was too panicked to really object. She hoped that her comrades would forgive her in the next life, whatever it looked like - she didn’t bother to consider if they would be the first to survive one of these encounters. But before she could stop to request their forgiveness, she needed to get to safety, even if she couldn’t picture in her mind what safety looked like or which way it was. So, Ling ran.

After some considerable length of time, perhaps hours or even a day, Ling felt her legs ever so slightly begin to fail her. She was still keeping as fast a pace as she could manage, but fatigue was catching up with her. She was tripping over roots and stumbling into deep patches of mud. While she knew how to steady herself without too much delay, she was still slowing down, and the noise behind her was enough to tell her that The Ocelot was gaining on her. Crushed foliage, booming stomps, and a cacophony of animals prey and predator alike running away in distress. Somewhat slow, yet consistent and with no signs of slowing down, like a trained hunter waiting for their prey to tire themselves out of putting up a fight. As much as Ling dreaded it, she knew she would have to make a choice soo-

- “Mama? Mama!”

Ling stopped dead in her tracks, almost falling over in the process. That was Tai’s voice! She had been so focused on running, it seemed she’d been tuning out everything else in the process. She could now hear her daughter, crying out for her attention in between frightful sobs. Taking a mere moment to center herself, assess her surroundings, and then focus back on Tai, she darted behind a tree while keeping her daughter held in her arms. Probably not enough to hide from The Ocelot for good, but perhaps enough to buy them some time. In as calm of a voice as she could muster, she whispered, “Mama’s here, my little dragon. Everything is going to be okay-”

- “But what about Papa? Where is he, where is everyone else? Where are we?”

“...” Ling wracked her brain to think of something, anything, to reassure Tai (and maybe even herself) that things would be alright; that holding out hope would be worth it and they would survive in the end. The ever-increasing noise signaling The Ocelot’s approach did not do much to calm her nerves. Still, Ling knew she needed to do something and to do it fast; planning was going to take too much time, she had to do the best she could now. So, moving away from the tree, she carried Tai over to a bed of makeshift leaves, branches and vines. As far as she could see it was the best hiding spot possible for someone Tai’s size.

Gently lowering Tai to the ground while doing her best to suppress the tremble in her voice, Ling said, “Papa had to help some of our other friends. He’ll come back for us soon, but for now I need you to make a promise for Mama. Promise me you’ll be brave and wait here until the noise stops, and then start running as fast as you can. There is a monastery where Mama grew up which should be close; I know that they will take you in and help raise you while we’re away. They’ll help you grow big and strong, once you can find them. In return, I’ll promise that me and Papa will make it back to you; okay?”

“...Okay,” Tai stuttered out, holding back her tears to put on her ‘brave face.’ “But, where are you going?”

“I’m going back for Papa,” Ling answered, giving Tai a kiss on the forehead before turning back the way she came. “And I’m going to protect my little dragon.” 

Walking in the direction of the oncoming cacophony, Ling took the remaining time she had to catch her breath and regain her strength. Once she’d regained some semblance of a second wind, she pulled out a khyber knife from its sheath at her back. She dropped down into a combat stance she remembered from her time in the local monastery, hoping she retained enough of her training to put up a fight at least. The noise ceased, giving Ling a moment of pause before she beheld The Ocelot in their entirety for the first time.

It would seem the theories about The Ocelot were rather accurate, Ling noted as she studied her opponent. The Ocelot was indeed humanoid, with the bulky frame and green skin typical of an orc. Their face was covered with ghastly scars, one in particular running from the cheek across the mouth to leave them in a permanent scowl. They wore a cloak made of various animal furs stitched haphazardly together, under which was a tattered robe which was worn and cut to the point of barely holding itself together. The clothing was covered with blood stains, but it did not seem like any of it was theirs. Over their shoulder, they hefted a massive polearm which Ling suspected was much longer than she was tall.

“So, you’ve finally stopped running. Ready to finally accept your inevitable end?” The Ocelot spoke, in a surprisingly calm tone despite their deep grumble of a voice. Their eyes scanned over Ling, though it was difficult to tell what they were looking for. The blank expression on their face betrayed no emotion.

“It’s not inevitable,” Ling countered, as much to herself as to The Ocelot. She didn’t expect to kill this monster that nobody in Khu-Rung had even survived, but if she was going to face it she would do so with confidence. Flipping her knife into a reverse grip, she added, “This is only the end if I say it is; and right now I say I’ve got some fight left in me.’

The Ocelot let out a primal snarl, their gnarled face then twisting into a wicked grin. Drawing their spear, they responded, “Now that’s the spirit.”

Lunging forward, The Ocelot thrusted their spear forward towards Ling’s head. Ling ducked and stepped to the side as the spear lodged itself in a tree trunk. She moved to stab at The Ocelot’s unarmored midsection, but before she could get in range, they had already pulled the spear out and knocked over a tree in the process. How can something so massive be so fast at the same time? Ling thought to herself with a shock. Scrambling to adapt, she opted for a quick slash at The Ocelot’s leg before ducking back to a neutral range, but not before taking a grazing blow to the side for her troubles.

The Ocelot advanced once more, swinging her spear down from over her head in an attempt to crush Ling below it. Ling barely managed to sidestep the attack, this time landing a quick cut above her assailant’s eyes, hoping that the bleeding would obscure their vision. She considered going for another attack, but now that she knew how fast this monster recovered, she leapt back just in time to evade another devastating swing of the spear.

The snarl the Ocelot had previously let out deepened into a low growl, as they eyed Ling with a cold fury. “You’ve lasted longer than most,” The Ocelot noted, briefly lowering their spear in a somewhat taunting gesture. “And if nothing else, I can admire your tenacity. Tell me, what do you keep fighting for when you know you’re going to die?”

“I have someone to protect back home…” Ling answered, choosing her words carefully to suggest that Tai was further away than she was. With a scowl, she continued, “and I have someone to avenge right here!”

The Ocelot responded with a roaring laugh before returning to their combat position, with a look of wild elation on their face. “Hearing my prey say such things never gets old.”

This time, Ling dared to strike before The Ocelot could make a move. Feinting another slash at their legs, she instead narrowly parried The Ocelot’s counter-attack and directed the spear down into the muddy ground. While she had a split second of an opening, she ran her knife into their abdomen and pushed it in as far as she could. The Ocelot released a pained roar, which gave Ling a moment of hope and confidence before the back end of the spear struck her right in the temple. The blow rang in her head with a resounding echo, blurring her vision and leaving her thoroughly disoriented. Stumbling back, she struggled to regain her bearings and reclaim her weapon, only to realize it remained lodged in The Ocelot’s stomach. Rising to their feet, The Ocelot pulled the blade out from her wound without even a flinch, and began stalking over towards Ling.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” The Ocelot drawled, slowly stepping forwards as Ling clumsily stumbled back to a safe distance. “I genuinely can’t remember the last time someone landed that hard of a hit on me. Certainly wasn’t whoever you wanted to avenge,” punctuated with a grim laugh. “Since you’ve gone through the effort of putting up a real fight, I think I’ll grant you this concession; if you want to say your last words, now’s your chance.”

As her vision still remained blurred, Ling struggled to orient herself in the direction The Ocelot’s voice came from. In lieu of a weapon, she raised her fists and mustered all the venom in her voice she could to spit out, “One day you’ll be where I am now. One day one of your ‘prey’ will bite back a bit too hard, and you’ll be the one left scrambling for your life. And on that day, everything you’ve done to all these innocent people will come back to you tenfold.”

“A bold assumption that anyone in this world is innocent,” The Ocelot mocked. “Still, as far as threats go, I’ve heard far worse.” With that, they charged at Ling with her own knife in their hand, impaling her through the chest and pinning them against a tree. 

While making sure that the blade was well and truly stuck inside of the bark, The Ocelot said to Ling, “I’d love to stay and watch you die, but you’re definitely not the only straggler left from your caravan. So I’ll head back to finish whoever is still there, and if you somehow survive after that I’ll gladly end your suffering.” 

After they turned and walked away, Ling struggled to pull the knife loose, but found she had too little strength left to free herself. Feeling her consciousness fade away, she looked up at the sky as raindrops began to fall on her head. To nobody in particular, or maybe whoever could hear, Ling gasped out, “Tai, my little dragon, the monster is gone. Mama and Papa will have to go too, but that just means you’ll need to be brave for a bit longer. But now, little dragon, I need you to run.”

The last of Ling’s life fleeting away, Ling could see nothing besides the jungle’s foliage, and could feel nothing but the raindrops on her face. She did hear one thing that stood out though, as she took her last breath; the sound of crushed leaves against the ground, getting steadily further and further away from her. And it sounded like running.

@ettawritesnstudies

[glacialswordsman-a]

DISTRACT / HIT (ooc. I told you Kaveh gotta suffer :P )

prompt [DISTRACT] The sender distracts the opponent, drawing their attention away from the receiver's upcoming maneuver. [HIT] The sender intentionally takes a hit from the opponent, creating an opportunity for the receiver to counterattack.

When Kaeya had been warned about the dangers of the desert, he expected the heat to be absolutely sweltering paired with the usual presence of hilichurls. He was prepared for both, wearing light clothing that still covered his skin properly, and he knew that hilichurls would not be a problem—but what he found out was that there was a lot more to it.

The desert is one of the most diverse biomes out there. Non-natives of the desert always seemed to believe that it was an arid wasteland with nothing to it, but no. It was teeming with life, from humanoid, to bestial, to even mechanical. He knew he shouldn’t have underestimated locale, considering he has read up on it quite often, and yet here he was anyway, facing off against a wenut that they encroached the territory of.

At the very least, he was not facing this predator alone. Kaveh, ever so kind, had come along with Kaeya out of his own volition. When the Mondstadtian mentioned wanting to visit the desert in hopes of locating…something, it appeared that the architect was adverse in allowing him to go alone. Thus, here they were now, dancing along the sand clumsily as they attempted to avoid the wenut that was breaching the spots where they stood, trying to impale them.

It was difficult trying to find good footing with how slippery the dunes were, and it was exhausting them rather quickly. The heat of the sun beating down on them certainly didn’t help, and they were both quickly getting worse for wear. Kaeya himself was already sporting some wounds, his clothes torn here and there as blood trailed after him, which seemed to only frenzy the apex predator further. His mind was running miles per second, attempting to figure out just what could be done ASAP before they both become victims of the treacherous fauna of the desert.

However, what he didn’t expect was for Kaveh to create an opening…in the most perilous manner possible.

The architect practically offered himself up towards the sandworm by sprinting closest to it, slicing at its drill with his claymore to gain its attention. The beast shrieked, focusing on the Sumerian as it pulled itself out of the sand. It towered over Kaveh, and Kaeya immediately felt dread in the pit of his stomach. He rushed in to try and pull the architect out of harm’s way, desperate to defend the vulnerable architect. Kaeya may thoroughly enjoy putting his cavalry company through the wringer when it comes to missions, but Kaveh is not a part of his company!

It was clear that Kaveh knew how to stand his own and fight, using his claymore with impeccable precision and flawlessly using Mehrak to his benefit, but he was one mere man! Thus, was he at a disadvantage, as the wenut swept its massive tail towards Kaveh, slamming into his side and hurtling him away with its brute strength.

“Kaveh!” Kaeya cried out, gritting his teeth. Using whatever strength he had left in his legs, no thanks to the sand, he leapt towards the sandworm as his Favonia Aquila imbued and reinforced itself with his cryo, sharpening its point further with deadly rime. Lethal icicles formed around him before shooting out like harpoons, impaling through the wenut’s body every which way, while Kaeya landed atop its head and pierced his sword through the armor that had thoroughly protected it before.

The creature released a blood-curdling screech, attempting to fling the Mondstadtian off its head, but Kaeya remained firm and dug his sword further and further, the sickening sound of cracking and squelching prominent in his ears. He hung on for dear life while the beast thrashed, but eventually, it soon fell limp and crashed down onto the sand, forcing him to let go so he could tuck and roll away safely.

Panting heavily, he squinted towards the massive sandworm and waited to see if it would move again, but all he saw were the twitches of a fresh kill. Only after he knew it was really dead did he search frantically for Kaveh, spotting the blond sprawled a way’s away from the site of their skirmish. Forcing himself back upright, his legs burned as he sprinted over to the architect’s side, his hands hovering over him in concern as he inspected him closer to check for any external wounds. It appeared he was about the same when it came to superficial injuries, but he knew that tail must have hurt him a lot more. He’s afraid of there being internal trauma, thus causing him to hesitate in picking him up or even moving him. He wasn’t about to risk exacerbating any injuries, not unless Kaveh was actually awake and lucid enough to tell him what was wrong.

“Kaveh—Kaveh, are you alright? Can you hear me? Do you know if anything is broken?”

[lost-act]

In terms of hunting down cryptids, I'm all down for it in terms of being able to document them without getting my head eaten off literally. I recommend "Lost Journal of Alejandro Pardo" which is a cryptozoology guidebook to Philippine monsters and mythos. I remember borrowing this book in highschool from the Filipiniana section and maybe spooking myself a bit despite not having my third eye open. (Yes...the drawings were that scary for highschooler me... and the latest TADC episode still manage to scare me despite now being an adult)

Also, despite some minor...landmines to say, Trese is a good series that tackles the mythology side of a country that has been heavily influenced by Catholicism.

(For the sake of those with colorful imaginations like mine, I will put a "Keep Reading" tab so that we don't accidentally get ourselves haunted by our own minds towards the unexplainable. Then again...who am I to stop the curious like how I dove headfirst to borrowing that book?)

Most creatures in the book are those not heard of due to possibly being from other regions.

Some of these monsters piqued my interest like that of this leafy creature that is said to captain a mystical boat, though you have to do some odd technique to be able to see it and its ship. The way you find it is by finding a tree that is surrounded by fireflies. I don't remember the name of the creature but I did wrote it down in a story that I long scrapped.

Another one is a supposed sleep paralysis demon in the form of a (for descriptive purposes only) large obese lady. The book said that they are a nature spirit of sorts that inhabit trees and apparently they appear when their tree was taken down to be made into a bed. Depending on their request, they would ask either that a part of the bed be returned to where their tree was or that the entire bed must be returned to the woods. I also forgot the name of this monster but it did scare me shitless to say the least.

There's also the sigbin, a corpse eating dog. In Trese, they are depicted as shapeshifters. Though in the guidebook, they are depicted as these otherworldly dogs that feast on corpses. Sometimes, they are used to track down corpses that have been casted away.

Of course, there's also the engkantos aka the local version of the English's faeries (or whatever their spelling is). There are multiple mythologies pertaining to the realm of the engkantos, one of which is the famous "City of Biringan", a technologically-advance utopia where engkantos live. Though there are other stories that pertain of people managing to get to the realm of the engkantos and being offered food. Even here, the rule of thumb is to never eat what they offer and find a way to outsmart them. Often times these engkantos would wear colonial outfits, like the baro't saya and barong tagalog, and look like forever youths. Though according to the guidebook, once you fall for their trap, they shed their illusion and reveal their true form which often looks like that of a rotting corpse. Of course, variations vary from one another due to the regional diversity of the country.

There are monsters such as the allan (idk how it's spelled but funnily enough it sounds like a normal person's name) which is a bat human that feasts on humans... and then a snake-lady called an oryol that is said to seduce men. Though I think the latter is maybe due to colonial influence and woven what may be the Western-Christian telling of Lilith to be localized.

And of course...there are those creatures that rape men and women alike. Or, at least, desire to "have" (marry) the human. There are cases where nature spirits like that of the kapre have shown interests in humans. A Sunday evening show I watch, Kapuso Mo: Jessica Soho, sometimes feature segments pertaining to the supernatural. I always look forward to those segments so I can debunk them (and scare) myself.

[Again, I do not have a third eye, but sometimes I can "feel" when something's off. Though the "third eye" does run in the family, just lucky enough that I did not inherit it... But that means I get thrown to take the fall to make things less scarier for everyone. Hhh...that one time when we were given an amulet (tiny ziplock) with a pinch of salt, a clove of garlic, what I assume is a part of a palm plant used for Palm Sunday, and an amulet of the Holy Family did not ease any of us at all! Additionally, I WOULD LIKE TO TALK TO THE INTERIOR DESIGNER THAT DECIDED FILLING UP THE ENTIRE WALL WITH CLOSET DOORS. WHAT KIND OF DESIGN IS THAT?! AT LEAST PLACE A VANITY OR OPEN SHELF CONCEPT. NEXT THING YOU KNOW YOU'VE GOT A BUNCH OF KIDS GETTING SCARED OF GOING UP IN FEAR THAT AN ASWANG OR TIKBALANG OR A GHOST WILL JUMP OUT AT THEM IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. IT DOESN'T EVEN HELP THAT OUR PHONES WERE CONFISCATED SO THERE GOES ANY SENSE OF REASSURANCE! DOESN'T EVEN HELP AGAIN THAT I CAN'T EVEN USE IT TO CHECK THE TIME! I decided on just flipping off whatever forces there are because I was too sleepy of dealing with the paranormal at 5 am in the morning.]

I also find it interesting, to say the least, the possible origins of the tiyanak; a vampiric creature that takes the form of a baby. The well known variation is that they are spawned from babies that 1) were aborted 2) died before being baptized. It's most likely the well known variation is spun from the use of local beliefs by colonizers to get locals to convert to Catholicism and have their babies baptized so that they have a chance to go to heaven. In addition, it also solidifies the belief of "abortion = bad" though that itself is where politics and religion start to intermingle with one another and I'd rather not go down that route. I do believe, however, that the possible original lore of the tiyanak is that it is a changeling creature that decidedly takes form of a baby to prey on unsuspecting kind hearted humans. The only way to get out of it varies as well as one either inverts their shirt to get out, or, on off chance face-to-face 1v1 encounter with the demon, invert your shirt and start making silly faces to get it to laugh (yk...like how babies work).

As much as I would like to hunt down and prove or disprove the existence of these monsters, I'd need a bolo blessed by a priest to calm any nerves I have.

All in all, there are a lot more monsters here and it all goes down to how much people remember. I would also like to say how terrified I am right now after remembering the contents of the book because of how much the illustrations are burned into my brain... All I can hope now is that I do not get haunted in my sleep.

Cryptid hunting cryptidcore is so America and England focused... Where’s my Australian cryptid hunters, my Eastern European ghost hunters, my Asian cryptozoology nerds?!? Where y’all are, I’d be interested to hear about local legends and cryptids that are not from England or America (though I’m still interested in those). Hit me up if you have any lesser-known local myths, legands, and cryptids.

[cyanidas]

Yogs Fanlore Locations and History

(Locations under the cut!)

Craftia

Deity: Kirin, God of the Heart and Time Located: Between Earth and Mars Size: the size of Mars Residents: Villagers Description: Although gravity here is average for living creatures, most matter tends to wind up floating in the skies for various reasons, though experts can't exactly agree on what the causes are. Many resources here form its material in unique grid-like structures that make it very easy to cut into blocks, break apart, and put back together again in creative structures. It's Minecraft. History: Created by Kirin after the Big Bang, this planet is home to the Villager, a race of human descendants who have evolved to acclimate to the planet's cool, even temperatures and stagnant biomes. Upon awakening from their sleep, Kirin found the Villagers in a war-torn state, surrounded by the blood of their fallen, weak from poverty, famine, plague, and scarcity. Seeing what little they could create wind up so desolate and dead, Kirin was brought to tears so strongly they brought waves and oceans of healing water to the planet, ushering in a new era of life - the sick healed, wounds closed, crops renewed, and soon, society restored. Although, as a result, Villagers ended up relying a little too heavily on their god... Humans and other such visitors were unable to make contact with the planet for so long, but began visiting around the 19th century. Since then, trading and colonies have become more and more common, and in today's society it is still rare but a common rarity to see a space travel company offering a one-way trip... since rockets and other space-faring vehicles tend not to survive the trip through the thick, electrified atmosphere. However, Craftia is now home to one of the most diverse cast of different races/species in the solar system!

Earth

Deity: Quetzal, God of Life and Form Located: ...oh, yknow Size: 40,075.017 km (24,901.461 mi) measured around the Equator Residents: Humans Description: What's there to say about the Earth? You live here! ...ok fine... Technology is much more advanced than what we know now - clean energy prevails in larger countries, though don't you worry, capitalism and shady business practices definitely do still exist. Its Humans are mostly science-oriented, but due to their curiosity - a behavior very unique to them - they vary in impression, temperament, personality, and so on... even whole groups and cultures can vary wildly from each other! History: For the most part, its history remains the same... ok, except dinosaurs only existed about twice as opposed to the weird actual real-life history we live with today. Also, the Library of Alexandria never burned, so technology advanced here at an incredible rate, and Libraries are considered absolutely crucial to societies around the globe. God is real and they (mostly) abandoned their planet, living in fear of the violence of some humans, and the effect they themself have on their mortals when in direct contact with them. However, that didn't stop them from observing their humans, sometimes making contact and... falling in love...

Twilight

Deity: Chimera, the God of the Mind and Space Located: Between Earth and Venus Size: ??? Residents: An enormous variety of Fae, and Dragons Description: Twilight is a strange land that seems to stretch on forever. Looking at it from space usually never yields the same results twice. Experts on Earth argue it doesn't actually exist at all, or at the very least isn't actually a planet. Whatever is sent there to observe it winds up with extremely poor recorded evidence, and anyone who views its footage can't seem to agree on its results. Where science falters, however, those who are magically inclined prevail. Some say there's an ancient ritual to open a portal to their world, but of course, not many succeed... at least not on Earth. Also the dinosaurs shared between Earth and Twilight survived here, and evolved into dragons, an ancient and highly sophisticated and powerful race of intelligent creatures. History: When Chimera first awoke, they emerged from the planet's largest mountain - their resting place. The Fae, who are naturally magically inclined, recoiled in horror as they sensed Chimera's overwhelming power. Paranoid, they shunned and revolted against their god, who retreated up the mountain, allowing their people to succumb to war and other tragedies. Until, a lone tree elf rose to the challenge, and traversed the mountain's harsh terrain to talk them down. Since arriving back on Twilight, efforts within the government had been made to incorporate new laws within the fae realm, bringing order to a once-chaotic realm. Still, they've suffered many battles and infighting time and time again, much like Earth - fighting for rights, against racism, for land and resources, against too-powerful rulers, and so on. Much later, Twilight suffered a war with the early-century humans of Craftia, losing one of their most powerful leaders... Aislin, the tree elf. Since her death, the government - the Seelie Court - has witnessed some corruption as of late...

Nether

Deity: Lucifer, the Blood King Located: on Pluto Size: it's Pluto Residents: Demons, Piglins/Pigmen Description: This is Hell. You're in Hell. The walls are flesh and blood, the air is fire, the lakes are lava, and there's massive floating disembodied heads of dead angels wailing for their deaths. Not to mention the various undead living there. The only difference between this and canon Nether, is that there's demons here, too. They inhabit the Fortresses, and their primary goal is serving Luci, who promotes his blood magic as a way to gain power so that he can eventually challenge his creator and do what he feels is right by humans - giving them the justice and care they deserve. But he's kinda lost himself along the way. History: It's a little hard to discuss the Nether's history without going all the way back...so I apologize for the length! Lucifer was once an incredible angel, who always did as told, and didn't see the bigger picture of things. In helping Quetzal with his various tasks, he realized that the creator only wanted to serve their own agenda, and let the humans do whatever they wanted - consequences included. With the idea of a perfect world in his mind, Lucifer refused to help any further, and orchestrated an uprising against Quetzal. The uprising was met with harsh punishment, and they abandoned Lucifer and his band of angels, sending them away in a harsh fury of flames. They crashed on Craftia, and Kirin took pity on them, knowing that Angels couldn't survive outside of the Aether for very long. Working with Chimera, who originally created the angels with Quetzal, the two traveled to Pluto to create an oasis for them. However, without Quetzal - the god of Form - their oasis was imperfect and quickly began collapsing. The angels couldn't survive. Lucifer, thinking quickly, did everything he could to help them live - including sacrifice, using criminals and those who'd committed evil deeds, to avoid bringing the innocent to an unjust end... Blood rituals were the only thing keeping them alive, but soon it became too much for them. The angels - The Virtues - turned into beings of the deadliest sins, and withered into suffering husks of their former selves. Lucifer, as the forefront of his blood research, is the only remaining ruler... having consumed so much blood, he now remains the most powerful being in his realm, demons having been reborn from the ashes of those he'd sacrificed.

Aether

Deity: N/A - the Trio (Kirin, Quetzal, and Chimera) use it as "neutral space" Located: The Sun Size: theoretically infinite Residents: Disembodied souls, and Angels Description: Located within the Sun, this would be considered Limbo, or the Afterlife. It's where people go when they die, where Fae create liminal space / draw their energy from liminal space, where souls are judged and sent to other areas, and where Paradise and Eden are located. It's a very busy place, looks like an empty white void backrooms-y area with different rooms acting as portals to other locations or areas within the Aether, including Paradise. Paradise is where the Angels live, as well, and it looks and acts however the soul viewing it does (except to angels, who see it as whatever the more mortal soul/s see it as). Within Paradise is Eden, a garden of course, and where humanoids were first created. The white-hot exterior of the sun protects the pocket dimensions of the Aether within it, and only allow the Gods and the Angels to pass through it. History: The Aether was created when the Gods (mostly Quetzal) were beginning to get the idea to create humanoids. In the very beginning, it merely looked like a glass room, completely transparent and outside of the Sun. But before the gods fell asleep, under the instruction of "The Voice in The Sky" (or, the Ender Dragon as we now know her), Chimera worked with Quetzal and Kirin in placing the room within the Sun, and there, created Eden... the perfect garden, a sanctuary for them and the souls of their creatures to rest when all was done. When things started to become more hectic and saw more traffic as more and more people were born and would die, Quetzal and Chimera band together to create Angels to help with all the work. These creatures were resistant to the hottest of flames, and thrived in the holy atmosphere of Paradise. Created without Heart, they could think more clearly and perform duties more easily... but for some reason, their biggest flaw - despite their immense power - is that they cannot survive outside of the Aether (without godly assistance) for very long. A few years, at best. And when Angels die, they don't get any chances to respawn or be reborn, no matter what.

Lumina

Deity: None. Located: in another solar system entirely! Size: about a 25% size increase to Earth Residents: Lumians Description: An alien planet, inhabited by the oddly humanoid Lumians. These people exist as the only humanoids in their district, surrounded by hundreds of other sentient beings of races who are anything but! This planet is rich in bioluminesence and largely populated by massive buglike creatures, who are killed for their dense alien bug meat, strong carapaces for architectural purposes, among other body parts used for scientific purposes. There are thick outer jungles, dense foggy swamps, husks of bug dens, and large saltflats and deserts - which is where most Lumian cities are located. Their society is incredibly progressed, technology-wise... but very lacking in creativity, emotional progression, and other social aspects. History: Quetzal had fallen in love with many humans throughout Earth's history, especially in early history, but unfortunately the children they sired with their partners usually turned out...different... they were monstrous, and animal-like. Other humans tended to fear them, and try to kill them, so the god needed somewhere to keep their kids safe and not let Kirin and Chimera know of their mistakes. They had the angels help take their lovers, their children, worthy guards, and plenty of other members of society who were trustworthy enough to keep everyone safe and healthy and happy. Scientists, warriors, poets and artists, architects...they all began a life on this alien planet, and eventually - throughout the generations - became a singular people; Lumians. Thankfully, there's not much to say about their history. They explored their world, conquered untamed lands, and pretty much didn't need to fight over land or resources - there was always plenty to go around. Wars never happened because there was no reason to disagree or escalate things. That doesn't mean that once they rose to intelligence high enough for space faring, that they had the courtesy to view other races in equal lighting. Along the way, they also lost their own history, so they (as well as Earth) have no idea why they're the only humanoids so far away - and incorrectly assumed it's because their ancestors neglected to document ancient space faring technology. Due to the emotional inclinations of humans, Lumians feel they're inferior to themselves, and at worst, can treat them as pests or pets.

The Asteroid Belt

Deity: None Located: between Craftia and Mars Size: a relatively small, packed-together ring of asteroids that range from the size of a house, to the size of a skyscraper Residents: A space station of Earth Humans Description: This asteroid belt is most like how we see in cartoons and scifi - packed together, too dangerous for ships to fly though, and more like a big ring in the solar system. It's very easy to avoid it, and although you CAN cling to the asteroids for dear life, there's really no reason to... so you wouldn't expect a branch of a highly sophisticated Scientific Innovation company from Earth to build a base there, would you? History: Well, they did, and it was to observe the comings-and-goings of Craftia - a planet that's captivated Earth since the dawn of man. Their facility here is Top Secret, and virtually undetectable, blending in perfectly with the asteroids and locking the rotation of the rock they built on so that the facility (somehow!) always faces Craftia. They're benevolent, though, and only wish to experiment with the planet's resources and atmosphere. Sometimes, though... the things they create somehow end up on the surface...

The Flux

Deity: you guessed it! The Flux Mother, aka "Fluxia" (pronounced: Flu-shia, like Fuchsia) Located: In a bubble that travels between Craftia and Twilight, and looks like a comet to Earth Size: About the size of the moon Description: Inside the hellbubble from space is a purple void of inky, gooey, sticky grossness. Fluxia likes to decorate it with things she corrupts from "the overworld", which is really just anywhere that isn't in her bubble or out in space. She is so corrosive and corruptive that despite her confines being held together by Two Gods, she still continues to seep outside of it and infect the two worlds belonging to the gods who created her; Kirin and Chimera. History: Fluxia was created during the Twi-Craft war, when the fighting became so personal and so extreme, that Kirin and Chimera ended up fighting each other directly. The magics from both the Gods, combining Heart and Soul with such rage and aggression, resulted in the poisonous sludge of the Flux Mother's birth. Her horrific nature is what ultimately ended the war, as the opposing sides were forced to come together to bring an end to her. Thankfully, MOST of her was forced into a pocket dimension located in space.

The End

Deity: The Ender Dragon Located: Beyond the known universe, aka,"The Sky" Size: Literally Endless Description: The Dragon, who has always held a fondness for existence, envies the universe for its ability to have physical things within it. She has amassed Endermen from the husked bodies of those who were willing to sacrifice themselves to her, who use her magic to teleport to anywhere they're allowed (...and sometimes where they're not) to take items and matter to the End. The floating void islands there are generated from these stolen goods, but as the years wear on, they corrupt into "purified", empty matter - becoming End Stone and Chorus plants and Purpur. History: The End used to be populated by followers of various races and species - those who heard her voice and were called to her End dimension, where they congregated and built tremendous End cities once they passed her test - defeating her (or more accurately, a creature of her creation, an effigy) in combat. However, over time, for an unknown reason... they "corrupted" into husks of their former selves, and the Dragon stopped ferrying her champions to the End Cities. It seemed as though she was sapping the mortals' life energy... but why? The cities became overgrown and filled with parasites - endermites and shulkers, barnacle-like creatures that thrive on purpur. Soon, the void was empty once again, and the Dragon no longer spoke to anyone in the universe, withdrawing her voice and presence in its entirety.

[sidespart]

The Fall of King Romulus Part 2

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him...

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Pairings: Mostly Platonic LAMP and all the found family feels. Could be read as pre-slash. 

Prologue     Chapter 1  

“Young Sir! Come look at this! A beautiful gift for your sweetheart, no?”

Logan bit back a curse as Roman, once again, slipped form his side and almost skipped towards the merchants stall.

They had finally left the forest earlier that morning. Barley a quarter- mile beyond the tree line the path merged with the great eastern road, already heaving with traders wagons heading to Steveange for the monthly market. Roman had gone to work immediately, finding an exhausted looking couple and charming them into exchanging a ride in the back of their cart for a selection of songs to soothe their gaggle of bored children.

Even Logan, no lover of music, could admit that Romans voices was objectively pleasing. Even the wailing baby settled down under the effects of his lullaby.

The closer they got to the city gates the more densely packed the road became, to the point where their pace might have been improved by walking. But the rest was welcome and the sun was still high in the sky by the time they had finally made it to the city square. They might even have made it to their target in good time, had Patton not insisted that they stay to help the family unload every box and crate from their cart before moving on.

Patton stood nearly seven foot tall, with shoulders to match and the patience of a Raspanzean monk. Moving him when he had decided not to move was difficult at the best of times.  Currently, with a good deed in need of doing and no less than three small children clambering all over him, it was going to be impossible.

Logan looked at Virgil for support.

Virgil was already manhandling the smallest sack of produce down from the cart, under close supervision of a surly looking nine year old.

Logan looked back at Patton. Patton had somehow acquired a fourth child, and was swinging the small boy gently back and forth with one giant arm.

Logan sighed.  

Eventually they agreed that Patton and Virgil would stay to help the family, and then set about finding the four of them somewhere to sleep. Logan and Roman would head down the main street, complete their mission and return with, hopefully, enough coin to let them settle here for at least a weeks rest.

Which Logan would have no problem with. Except that the monthly market seemed far larger than when Logan had visited the city as a young apprentice. The city square was packed with stalls filled with meat, produce, spices and enough live animals to generate a stink so strong even Patton and his twice broken nose winced. The main road meanwhile was filled with more temporary looking stalls offering books, jewellery and potions of every colour alongside the usual clothing and home wear. These continued the whole length of the road from the square to the city temple and even spilled over into the side streets and thoroughfares of the city proper.

All of which apparently meant Roman couldn’t walk for more than two minutes without stopping to gawk at whatever gaudy display was on offer or chat with the seller.

“Roman!” he caught up with the wayward bard at a jewellers stall, where a heavy set man with salt and pepper hair was holding up an extremely impractical looking necklace for him to inspect

“Oh there you are specs” Roman grinned at him, “have you seen Master Galvenets wares? Look how shiny!”

“Is this your sweetheart?” The jeweller – presumably Master Galvenet – grinned at Logan with far too many teeth and reached below the makeshift counter top, “Then may I suggest this one instead – to match his  eyes?”

The necklace he presented was even bigger than the last. With blue glass masquerading as the sapphires surrounded by enough ostentatious filigree to decorate a dukes bed chamber. Logan stared,  momentarily struck dumb by his own disdain.

Roman nudged him, waggling his eyebrows and giving him a lecherous grin “What do you think sweetie? It does match your eyes.”

Logan blanched. Turning quickly to the seller her snapped out “We are NOT together. And also - we’re, extremely poor. And not interested.”

He grabbed Roman’s wrist and proceeded to drag the giggling bard with him back towards the main street. “Can you try to focus?” Logan glared at him, “remember this package is time sensitive.” Superstitiously, Logan patted his pocket, feeling the shape of the vial they had been entrusted to transport to Steveange still safely stored inside.

Roman failed to look chastened. “Logan, it’s a herb. And we we’re asked to deliver it within a week – it’s only been five days! Your forest short cut worked, alright, the worlds not going to end if we stop to appreciate some fine wares on our way.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You consider Master Galvenet’s works, ‘fine wares’?”

Now Roman had the grace to look a little sheepish “They had a charm of their own.”

Logan hmphed. “They were very clearly fake.”

“Oh?” Roman linked their arms together, tugging him back into the steady stream of south bound shoppers, “How could you tell?”

Logan told him.

The ensuring lecture took them the rest of the way down main street, and into the rabbit warren of alleyways that branched out behind the city’s temple.

Even here, there were traders. Many had their wares spread out on blankets on the ground instead of stalls, but they seemed less inclined to call over whilst the two of them walked together deep in discussion and so, mercifully, there was less opportunities for Roman to get distracted.

“A festival?” Roman suggested. Logan shrugged, it was possible, something was certainly occurring to draw such an enormous throng.

Eventually, Logan had to admit that his boyhood memories were not enough to navigate every twist and turn of the city streets and Roman stepped away from him to ask a couple for directions. Logan took the chance to study him, but whatever fit of irrationality had led to him wandering back through half the forest the previous night seemed to have past. Even the scratches on his hands and arms had healed almost completely overnight, helped along by a generous slathering of healing salve from Virgil.

(Logan had, at the time, pointed out that the healer was using up rather a lot of their  dwindling supply for an extremely minor injury. Virgil had hissed at him)

Roman was often contradictory. He would spend a day whining about his need for beauty sleep but then stay up till the early hours to fulfil every song request from whatever crowd they managed to gather. He fussed with his makeup and performance clothing as much as a lady at court, but kept his hair cropped unfashionably short and made no effort to seek out high class patrons who could have kept him in silks and finery. He was talented enough with a lute to spend the social season entertaining upper class lords, and talented enough with a sword to spend the rest of his time as a body guard or becomes some towns local hero. Instead he travelled with them.

“You know, I’m fairly sure there were some gentlemen painting miniatures on the main road, if you want to keep staring at me that is.”

Logan flushed, caught. “Don’t be insufferable.”

“You don’t pay me enough for that” Roman grinned cheekily.

This was an old joke. Virgil had originally found Roman, and hired him as a body guard and escort for a three day trip through a bandit ridden mountain pass. Three weeks and many diversions later, they had emerged on the other side of the mountain. Roman had become as much a part of the group as any of the others and had stayed to travel with them as a friend rather than a hire.

Logan was glad of it. Most of the time.

“Did you get the directions?”

“I did, I had to ask three people before I found someone who recognised the address – the city’s full of tourists!”

 *

 The woman who opened the door looked like the word crone ha been invented especially for her. Her grey hair stuck out from a shoddily tied scarf and her face looked like at any moment it might collapse under the weight of her own frown. She scowled at the pair of them, looking like she already learned everything there was to know about them from one glance and found it all spectacularly unimpressive.

“What do you want?” She snapped.

Logan resisted the urge to smooth down his waistcoat like he was presenting to a lecturer and stepped forward.

“Good afternoon. We have been sent by Madam Valarie to –“

This, if anything, seemed to make the scowl deepen.

“My sister? What does that witch want?”

“To deliver you …this”

With a flourish Logan produced the vial and held it aloft. The thin shaft of light spilling from the doorway made the red herb glow a burning orange in the dim of the alley.

“And you think I’m dramatic.”

“Shush.”

Needlessly dramatic or not, he had the woman’s attention. She reached towards the vial with trembling hands but Logan drew back before she could make contact.

“Your sister paid us half, with the promise of the second half on delivery.” Reaching into a different pocket  he produced an envelope and held it out. “She told us to give you this – it should validate our story.”

The woman muttered something decidedly uncomplimentary under her breath but accepted the envelope. Without speaking further she turned and retreated into the hovel, leaving the door open behind her

The two men exchanged a glance, and then Roman deftly stepped around Logan to walk in first, one hand on his sword.

He needn’t have bothered, the short hallway opened up to small kitchen, where every conceivable surface was covered with books, scrolls and bric-a-brac. Three of the four walks were taken up with shelving where kitchen ingredients and appliances sat shoulder to shoulder with  ornaments, candles and what looked like half a taxidermy ostrich.  

If the old woman had hired muscle ready to take to leap out and take the herb by force, they would have had a hard time finding space to stand.

“My sister claims this was picked under the glow of a full moon.”

Logan nodded, “that is what we were given to understand.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, “For this to be worth the price it needs to be used within ten days of the moon’s glow, my sisters village is two weeks ride away on the eastern road.”

“We came through the forest.” Logan explained, “Also, I sealed the herb in a pre-sterilised sample jar – the lack of air exposure should help it retain its freshness far beyond its normal time frame!”

The was a silence. The woman was now looking at Logan not with suspicion, but with the exasperation of a teacher whose student has just said something rather stupid.

Logan crossed his arms.

“If you look at the specimen carefully you will notice no discoloration or other signs of degradation – this method can be used to prolong the lifespan of most vegetation and-“

She interrupted him by laughing, an awful crows call of a noise, and held up a hand for silence.

“You are obviously quite uneducated.” she told him cheerfully “And you are bothering Mittens.”

“I beg your pardon I- wait what?”

“YOWCH!”

Logan spun round, as much as he could in the cramped space, only to find Roman desperately trying to relinquish a scrambling ball of fur back onto one of the high shelves. The cat had already dug its claws deep enough into the bards wrist to draw blood, and was currently clinging on for dear life as Roman waved his hand around like Patton trying to kill a spider.

“My apologies Master Mittens” Roman told the cat a few moments later, after Logan and the crone had  finally convinced it to release him “I thought you were a hat.”

“Why must you touch things.” Logan hissed and was surprised by a much gentler laugh from their hostess.

“Aw now,  Mittens is not the most dangerous thing you could have touched in my kitchen. Here. Drink.”

Logan blinked as she shoved hot cup into his hands. Its contents was extremely dark and disturbingly viscous. A few drops glopped over the side, singeing his finger. He held it as far from his body as he possibly could.

“And for you?” She held up a second cup towards Roman who smiled politely but shook his head ‘no’

“No thank you, Madam.”

“We’re both fine.” Logan said firmly, putting the cup down on one of the first patches of exposed surface he could find. “If you wouldn’t mind completing our transaction we will take our leave of this…place.”

She looked at him for one long moment and then turned back to Roman.

“Your friend says you passed through the Serpents Forrest”

Logan frowned - “That’s not what the locals called it.”

“Well that’s who lives there.” The crone snapped without turning around, “One of the darker fae. I’m not surprised he” – she jerked her chin back towards Logan – “ got through alright, since the gods look after fools.”

“Excuse me!”

“But how did you manage?”

Roman juts shrugged, eyes sparkling with mirth at Logan’s outraged expression. “We saw no one Madam, but if we had done - I carry iron.”

That rusted hunk of junk Logan thought, but the crone was nodding approvingly

“A clever boy” she patted Roman cheek, “I thought so when I heard your accent – you’re from beyond the mountains.”

Logan frowned. He was not gifted when it came to interpreting expressions, but he thought Romans smile had suddenly become very fixed.

“So are you.” Roman replied softly.

There was a moments quiet whilst the two looked at each other and Logan tried not to roll his eyes out of his own head. All they needed to do was a simple swap of coin for produce and instead Roman had manged to find the only other grown adult in Steveange who still believed in fairies.

Whatever northerner to northerner communication was happening seemed to pass, and the crone reached past Roman to pull a small burlap sack from the shelf. Mittens took the opportunity to skitter across her arm and settle himself on her shoulder.

“Here you are then.” She tipped the sack out on top of an open tome, producing three cloves of garlic and a hefty pile of coins Logan couldn’t help but stare. That was more money than Logan had seen in one place since he had started traveling.

The crone picked out three gold pieces and a fistful of silver and handed them to Logan. He counted quickly and handed her the vial. Transaction complete, Logan headed immediately to the door, but turned back when he realised Roman wasn’t with him

He was still trapped between the crone and the shelving. “Will you come and see me before you leave the city?” she asked “It would be nice to share my tea with someone who would appreciate it.”

Logan thought to the gelatinous mess in the tea cup and gagged but Roman just smiled

“If time allows my lady.” He brought her withered hand to his lips and deposited a courtly kiss before sidestepping her and heading after Logan.

The city alley smelt almost like fresh air after the over mixture of incense, garlic and cat that her permeated the crones kitchen, and Logan breathed it in gratefully before setting off. Roman falling into sept beside him.

Logan glanced at him, uncertain.

He knew Roman was from the Northern Kingdom. He guessed from his speech patterns that he either grew up upper class or was truly committed to his larger than life bard persona. He had mentioned a brother once, off hand, and during an argument compared Logan to a tutor he’d disliked who had made him study maps until he could recount every river on the continent by heart.

That was all he knew.

Logan was curious by nature, a trait which tended to get him in trouble. He would have liked to pepper Roman with a hundred questions about life beyond the mountains, but Patton had told him once he should only ask a question about a sensitive subject if he was prepared to answer one himself.

None of them like to talk about where they came from, but that was fine. They were going forward together.

It was obvious though, that meeting his countryman had shaken Roman. He walked silently, even when they turned into a wider street and found the market still in full swing, shoppers crowding around each stall, he made no comment, only stepped closer to Logan.

If he was Patton, he might have known what to say to sooth whatever emotion was clouding Romans features. If he was Virgil, he might have made a joke or pointed out an interesting stall  to distract him

As it was..

“So do all Northerners believe in fairy stories or is it just you two?”

“What?”

“The dark fae of the forest? She can’t have been serious.”

Roman straighten up, fixing him with a mock glare “Logan! You’re honestly going to keep pretending you don’t believe in magic? You travel with an elf!”

“Half-elf. And there’s nothing mystical about him.”

“He makes potions Logan!”

“He mixes herbs into useful medicines, it’s no different than any human herbalist.”

“He chants when he does it. And his eyes do that thing.” Roman wiggled his fingers in front of his face, apparently to illustrate ‘that thing’.

“Which I’m sure helps him know how long each concoction needs to stew before adding the next ingredient. You cannot decided a race is magical just because they’ve failed to invent clocks.”

“Urgh!” Roman threw up his hands, “Sometimes you sound like you’re from Arkaze’yed.”

Arkaze’yd was on the western coast. The most industrially advanced of the great cities, they had recently converted the city temple into an extension of the university.

Logan preened. “Thank you for the compliment.”

Roman pulled a face. “You are such a - ooh! Jam tarts!”

He darted away again, but this time Logan couldn’t fault him. A boy was hastily unpacking a crate of what looked like fresh jam tarts onto his masters stall and the scent was delicious

They had to wait for three families ahead of them before they could finally have their turn. Roman picked out four of the tarts and chatted happily with the seller whilst Logan carefully counted out the money.

“I had herd the monthly market of Steveange was something to behold but this! Are you going to go all night?”

“Most likely.” The trader told them happily, “The towns packed for the coronation.”

“Coronation?”

“Princess Stephanie is to become queen,” the man gushed, one hand over his heart in what Logan considered to be an alarming display of emotional royalism. “The guests have been arriving all week.”

Logan nodded absently. That explained the hubbub. The rich went traveling and the poor went to see them. A coronation was a good enough excuse for a festival. If you liked that sort of thing.

“They say,” the trader whispered leaning forward, apparently unbothered by Logan’s total lack of interest in royal gossip, “That even the mad Prince is coming - Remus of Notaleveale!”

“Is that so.” said Logan, monotonously “Here’s your coin.” He turned to Roman to claim his pastry and – stared.

All the colour had drained from Romans face. He gaze was fixed on the trader, his eyes so wide he looked quite wild.

“Roman?” Logan asked, as gently as he could. He realised that Romans hands were shaking the second before the bag of pastries fell from his grip.

“Roman- ROMAN hey-“

Other customers were starting to push between them, Logan bent down quickly to rescue the bag form the floor and reached out to grab his friends hand.

But when he looked up, Roman had gone.

Part three

[thekatebridgerton]

The Economics of Bridgerton and why it got renewed so fast

So I’ve been seeing some people complaining about why Bridgerton got renewed so fast when other shows deserved it more, its not that great of a show blaha blah blah. And I thought I’d let you know a little something about the Economics of a TV show and how that translates to what gets renewed and what gets axed. Ready? here we go.

First of all viewer, get this straight, You as an individual don’t matter to the Network in the bigger economic scheme of things. What you do matters. What you consume matters, and ultimately how you spend your time matters, but you and your delicate sensibilities as a person? not so much. Because the only thing that matters to the Network and everyone involved in making that show is PROFIT

Networks obtain profits, from things such as Merchandise, advertisements and in Netflix case, subscriptions to their streaming service. 

The higher the views in a show, the more money those three things above bring. More people watching the show, means more ad revenue, more merch revenue, more subscriptions bought and renewed, more social media exposure, more people buying whatever Netflix has to offer. Which enables Netflix to produce more of that content you like to consume so much. And by produce I mean, invest in things such as sets, costumes, actors, screenwriters etc

You see why a Network who only cares about profit would be particularly eager to have many viewers already accounted for BEFORE a premier right?. But how do you gurantee that people will consume a product before it has even been released?

How does Netflix guarantee that Bridgeton season 1 will be watched by millions before it actually happens? don’t people need to try the product before forming an opinion about it?. It’s not like they can be 100% sure they will get enough viewers to justify the money already spent filming S1. Except that...Bridgerton already came with viewers guaranteed. 

Let me explain Julia Quinn has already built up a fanbase of millions of people who love the Bridgerton books. If all else fails for the Network they still have the safety net of all those millions of people who would tune in and watch Bridgerton S1 if only to support their beloved author, and their beloved series. These viewers were already guaranteed before S1 even started filming., even if Bridgerton had been a failure, the Network (Netflix) would still get enough revenue to cover production costs. 

Ever wonder why reboots are so popular these days? see the above. It’s not exactly because of nostalgia, it’s because of profit. Why invest in something new and original when you could do something that’s been done before and guarantee yourself viewers even before you start filming. A reboot or a retelling can give a bigger safety net to Networks and Studios who simply don’t want to suffer economic loss if a project fails. Of course reboots and retellings are kinda souless right? we can all see right trough their money making schemes. It’s not fun for the viewer and more risky for the Studio or Network.

You know which is the most lucrative option? A BOOK ADAPTATION. Like Bridgerton, and most recently, Shadow and Bone. This product comes with millions of viewers attached, the viewer is willing to be used for their money making scheme, because they want to be surprised, they want to see even a figment of the world they could only read about be put into a screen. And if it’s really good the viewer (consumer) will reward the Network (producer) with the profits they have been chasing so much. It’s quite frankly a brilliant business strategy. 

So if you ever wonder why things like the After series, fifty shades of grey, the kissing booth series and to all the boys series and even Twilight, got greenlighted so fast. Think about where the profit line is? and how many viewers were guaranteed before filming. It’s the same reason production hires big name actors or TikTok stars with cero experience in Hollywood. (The amount of viewers they can guarantee by being in the movie, that matters to the Network and the Studio.)

If people watch Bridgerton, it makes profit, if it makes profit, then resources used in other projects will be allocated to filming Bridgerton, possibly delaying the greenlight for other shows that did not bring in as much revenue during the same quarter. 

Cancelations occur when a show doesn’t make as much revenue in comparison to other things offered by the same network. It doesn’t matter if it was good, well written and beloved. If the show did not make as much profit for the network as other shows competing for their time slot and production resources. It’s going to get axed.

As far as I’m concerned, I know I’m very lucky that Bridgerton is extremely popular and that Netflix doesn’t need to spend much money doing promotional campaigns. Lots of people watch it and want more of it. I’m one of them, my favorite show will be on air for a long while and that makes me happy

Bridgerton can reach a demographic of diverse races, diverse nationalities and diverse ages, ranging from 15 to 60 year-olds. Which multiplies the amount of viewership the show receives by a million, at least compared to other shows targeted at smaller and less diverse demographic groups. 

So tell me dear viewer, how many guaranteed consumers does your favorite Tv show have? are you sure the competition doesn’t have more? I will leave that for you to think about

[spiritus-sonne]

The Plasticity of Otherkin

To clarify, in this writing I’m using “plasticity” to refer to changes that can occur, particularly psychologically, in the experience and/or identity of being otherkin (and related identities). This does not mean that such changes are by conscious choice (though maybe they can be in some cases) nor that they are easy to occur (in which plasticity as a definition can denote “easy to mold” but I’m not using it that way, this is instead something at least more similar to how it is used in neuroscience with the ability of the mind to change). It is generally accepted by otherkin that being such is an involuntary thing and that being otherkin is essentially permanent and life-long from whenever it begins.

It used to be a very common belief and ‘standard’ in the therian and otherkin communities that one must be born as therian/otherkin and any belief to the contrary was treated as invalid, sometimes with people stating that an individual always was therian/’kin from birth but just didn’t know it until later in life. Eventually such insistence calmed down in these communities, seemingly from people who adamantly spoke against that ‘norm’ and offered reasoning as to why it isn’t an invalid belief, myself included amongst those who spoke against it (specifically in my “Becoming a Therian” writing). There also tends to be a lot of people in the otherkin community who believe their own otherkinity is due to spirit-based reasons, and some of those people (though seemingly less so anymore) believe that such is the case for othekin in general. With that, they tend to believe that one’s spirit is anchored to a human body at or near physical birth and thus that the spirit (and therefore their nonhumanity) would be a part of them from birth. Which is a fine view to have but it certainly isn’t the only legitimate one and fortunately many otherkin in the community now accept other views including psychological ones.

When it comes to the debate about whether otherkinity can be voluntary or if it is only involuntary, I feel kind of grey about it, undecided as to which ‘side’ I take because, really, I think my view is somewhere in-between. I do hold that otherkinity/therianthropy are not choices in a simple sense nor that one can easily or quickly become ‘kin/therian or easily lose being such. But that doesn’t mean I view it as strictly “involuntary”. The matter is more complex than a simple black-or-white definition of “otherkin are only such involuntarily”. I totally get why these identities and experiences are viewed as involuntary, but to those who feel they fall in that grey area or to those who want to dive deeper into this concept instead of taking it at face-value--well, that’s why I’m writing this piece. It has just never sat right with me that otherkin-is-involuntary is treated as some factual truth that can’t be questioned.

So to start off, I’ll cover the concept of ‘becoming otherkin/therian’, though much more briefly than my essay I mentioned. It appears most common for someone to essentially have always been ‘kin/therian, from birth, but it does occur sometimes that an individual will develop their nonhuman identity and experiences at some point later in their life, after early childhood. A person’s sense of self and their personality can change quite significantly between their baby or toddler years and their near-teens, teenage years, and into being an adult. I, personally, can’t track back my nonhumanity to before I was 10 to 12 years old--a very critical changing point in my development as an individual and who I have been since then. Actually, I can even date back my monster-heartedness to early childhood but not my otherkinity. So why would I just assume those experiences were there when I can’t so far find the evidence to believe such? Just because some other people want to believe that every otherkin had to be such from birth? That’s not a good enough reason for me. That crucial pivot point of my life at 10 to 12 years old changed me in many ways as an individual, and causing me to develop my otherkinity was a big part of that. I don’t know *why* exactly my otherkinity developed, and when in particular certain ‘kintypes developed enough that I would now consider them ‘kintypes, but it did.

The mind is a plastic thing, with the level of plasticity dependent on various factors, including but not limited to: age or stage of life, social factors and influences, trauma and stress, and learning, among other things. And with that, the Self is also similarly plastic. It’s easy for people to take for granted the Self as being static because most of the time it develops so slowly it’s hard to notice the changes until one looks back at their memories or other people’s memories of them to find contrast to who they are at present and at different points in their life. The Self does have static, or at least mostly static, aspects, and the extent of such varies from individual to individual, but it also has aspects that can and do change on an individual basis. So it calls into question this concept of a “true self” that one’s otherkinity is a part of. I do believe that otherkinity is a deep, integral part of who someone is, that it is part of one’s Self. However, that Self can and does change over the course of one’s life, so why can’t one’s otherkinity necessarily change with it, including to the extent of either developing or losing whole ‘kintypes or their otherkinity entirely? That doesn’t mean that such happens by choice, let alone by some superficial kind of choice.

But what of people choosing to gain or lose a ‘type? Copinglinks and otherlinks are essentially experientially the same as otherkin and fictionkin with the key difference being that ‘links are formed voluntarily--by choice--unlike how otherkin are believed to form. Yet there can be a grey area here, in that some ‘linktypes may develop in such a way as to become completely involuntary, regardless of whether the individual with the ‘type likes it anymore or not. And the question is whether these now-involuntary ‘linktypes could be considered ‘kintypes? Personally, I think they can, but that it’s ultimately up to the individual experiencing such to decide if they feel otherkinity, fictionkinity, therianthropy, coping/otherlinking, or whatever fits their experiences and identity better. It’s not up to other people to decide for them, and that does not make the matter insulting or disrespectful of otherkin and related or types of ‘linking. I believe that it also is possible to voluntarily lose one’s otherkinity, though I figure it is very difficult to do and would likely take an extensive time to complete, along with it quite notably changing core aspects of the individual’s Self, including in ways the individual couldn’t predict. As to whether anyone has done such, I don’t personally know, but I would like to see the communities open and respectful of the concept, at the least.

I’ve known of people before who have lost one or more therio-/’kintypes over time, not that they were actually “just wrong about being those ‘types” but that they felt they legitimately lost them for whatever reasons. And I believe that such can similarly happen to the individual’s full nonhumanity or fictionkinity, even if it may be a rather rare occurrence. And that’s, as a concept, okay. The individual has the place and right to believe they lost that part of who they once were, whether they wanted to or not, whether they even liked that part of them or not, and they shouldn’t be shamed, disrespected, or insisted they are wrong about it because of it. These cases, in my opinion, aren’t ruining these nonhuman and fictionkin parts of alterhumanity, despite how some people may act like they are. It’s especially problematic if these people do exist and for any of them their loss of their nonhumanity or fictionkinity is a bad, emotional part of their life. Or even if they consciously chose to lose such, their reasons behind making that choice could be surrounded in rather negative parts of their life and previous self, so people shouldn’t be making them feel bad about it because others are viewing their experiences as “invalid”.

The point to all this is that otherkinity and related are still highly subjective things and we are learning more about the vast diversity in the experiences and identities of such over time, so our communal knowledge needs to remain open to certain extents and willing to let that knowledge grow when new information emerges. Otherkin is not necessarily a for-life static thing in various ways and we need to be more careful to view it not through a black-or-white lens but through a whole spectrum of possibilities before we decide what exactly is set-in-stone about it. And doing this does not render the definition of otherkin meaningless.

[anika-ann]

In the Spotlight (S.R)

Type: One-shot

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader    Word Count: 5050

Summary: The one where Tony pushes Steve into a photoshoot, rubbing his hands and smirking at such action being almost a practical joke; a great way to make Cap squirm for a good cause.

Well, the joke just might turn out to be on him.

Warnings: mention of child cancer patients and disabled kids, Tony being a bit of an ass, attempt at humour, some language

A/N: The idea is a courtesy from a wonderful person, chase-your-dreams-away who always saw Chris’ FILA 2015 photoshoot as Steve showing he actually can pose. Thank you, sweet! This one’s for you!

(gif not mine)

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“Ah, Cap! Just the guy I wanted to see!”

Tony’s voice reached Steve’s ears just as he entered the kitchen after his morning run and shower, his heart skipping a beat, his whole body instantly on alert; he wanted nothing but to spin on his heels and walk right back to where he came from.

It wasn’t that he dreaded to hear there was a mission; that would be fairly alright even if it meant that the world was once again a terrible place with horrible people who needed to be stopped in it. No, Steve’s fright was caused by something else entirely.

You see, living in the Avengers Tower meant spending extended periods of time in Tony Stark’s company. Spending extended periods of time in Tony’s company meant that one would learn how to recognize certain situations; Steve could easily tell when the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist had pulled an all-nighter in his lab, when he was in a long-term fight with Pepper, when he was annoyed, when he was delighted.

And this right here, the ‘Just the guy I wanted to see!’, that meant nothing good – certainly not for the guy in question. Tony seemed awfully excited, beaming in a manner that told Steve that his friend was about to revel in the discomfort he was about to cause to him.

God help him.

Steve forced himself to continue walking, a tight mile on his lips.

“Morning to you too, Tony. What’s the matter?”

The man behind the legendary Ironman suit blatantly wiggled a finger at Steve, smirking; a clear sign that he already had his coffee, possibly with two shots of espresso.

“Morning. Glad you asked. You’re free in the afternoon, right?—Yeah, I already checked the agenda you keep with Jarvis-“ Make that three shots of espresso. Also, incredibly RUDE. But guess that what one gets when living in a building ran by an artificial intelligence. “-so I set up an appointment like four weeks ago-“

Steve shook his head, raising his hand in attempt to stop the rapid fire of words coming out of Tony’s mouth.

“Tony, hold on a second-“

“What?” the billionaire snapped, frowning. He hated being interrupted.

“First of all, I don’t have to share all my plans with Jarvis-“

“But you do. Sorry to break it to you, but you have no social life to keep under wraps.” Ruder. “…or do you have a hot date today?”

Steve was so embarrassed and so frustrated with the man that he was tempted to say yes just because. To make a point. But from the two men in the room, he was the less petty one, so he told him the truth.

“Well, no-“

“See? No problem here-“

“Yes there is!” Steve protested, crossing his arms on his chest as anger started to build there. “I could have had plans! You need to consult things with me! It’s about principle!”

Tony eyed Steve, unimpressed, his right brow arched. “Really? Principle? We’re gonna go there? I don’t think so. Aren’t you curious what the appointment is about?”

Steve sighed exasperatedly, so not done with the conversation Tony so carelessly dismissed, but he in fact was curious, wanting to be prepared for whatever insanity the man came up with.

Tony planning stuff usually equalled Pepper planning stuff, or both of them together, except Pepper had a habit of asking first before confirming the plans and setting appointments. Also, plans by Pepper usually equalled PR. Steve wasn’t too fond of PR stuff, genuinely hating shaking hands with politicians with smiles as fake as their election slogans.

“What’s the appointment about, Tony?” Steve asked to humour his not-exactly-a-friend-at-the-moment.

Tony smirked once again, a hint of mischief flashing in his dark irises.

“Feeling pretty today, Rogers?”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up, his muscles tensing; that sounded even worse than he had imagined.

“Huh?”

“Cause you’re gonna promote a new sports collection. You better start posing in front of the mirror to get your head in the game,” he mocked lightly, just as Steve predicted, basking in the horror that overtook Steve’s very being along with utter disbelief.

“What? Why?”

Steve did not enjoy being photographed. It usually involved ‘striking a pose’ or whatever the kids called it these days and once again, strained insincere smiles. Yeah, he was more than alright to take a picture with a fan if they were a kid who looked up to him. But other than that? Ugh.

“Come on! Lighten up, Rogers! It’s for charity!” Tony called out, stepping closer to pat Steve’s bicep. “Uh-huh, firm, good.”

Please let me leave, Steve begged the heavens, unsure if Tony was actually fawning over his muscles – serum-induced and supported by hard work, thank you very much – or if he was mocking Steve again.

“But seriously, it’s for charity that deals with enabling the disabled kids to do sports, any kind that’s possible with their impairment really. From some sort of a football to marathons or archery or whatever. It’s for a good thing.”

Steve felt the tension in his shoulders partly subdue, relaxing a bit. For one, that did sound like a good cause and for two, there was a barely noticeable change in Tony’s voice, just a little waver in his tone, giving away that for all the smirking and nudging and shit-talking, the genius cared for people and had a heart. Having a heart - Tony Stark’s most heavily guarded secret.

Steve sighed, his previously lost appetite returning.

“Alright, Tony. Where, when and what do I need to do?”

The other man patted his bicep again, this time in a truly friendly manner and grinned. “I’ll let Jarvis give you the details. You just try not to screw it up. Seriously, train how to smile in front of a mirror or something. Some poses, whatever. The photographer looks pretty good – not just professionally, if you know what I mean-“

Steve couldn’t help the eyeroll at the remark, one that was followed by Tony’s scandalized insulted gasp as he slowly made his leave, gesturing.

“-so I guess you don’t have to worry… much. Not sure if there will be trunks involved. Or a speedo. So, you know, keep it in your pants and don’t look anywhere I wouldn’t… which isn’t leaving much-“

“Bye, Tony,” Steve called after him, resisting the urge to childishly cover his ears just so he wouldn’t have to listen to the dirty teasing.

“What, it’s a valid concern we don’t want a lawsuit form her--“

“Go before I rattle you out to Pepper,” Steve grunted and at that, the genius grimaced and swiftly disappeared in the doorway.

Steve once again sighed and decided that he might need a bit more carbs in his breakfast than originally planned just so he survived today.

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You weren’t kidding anyone – you were a teeny tiny bit nervous. Your career had been rather colourful, you dipped your fingers in many kinds of photography and you still enjoyed the diversity, the various pictures of beauty – and there was a lot of beauty in the world to be captured – still calling out to you.

You had met famous people before too and you always managed… but Captain America was a whole new level of a challenge. You were feeling equal parts worried and damn lucky for being picked for the job; a job you wouldn’t get a penny for. Shooting a thing like this for charity with a name as great as Steve Rogers, that wasn’t about money – not quick one at least. It was about prestige.  

On the other hand, you would get almost any props you’d think of, within reason, of course – just saying a word was enough. And you had a few, images already painted in your head as you read on Steven Grant Rogers a bit more, got a good look on pictures online, and obviously, saw the collection.

Thinking about it, maybe it was him who should be scared, because excitement was the leading emotion of yours for while now.

You saw him arrive, the chatter about it instantly spreading like fire. And honestly? He did look a bit spooked, so you took the liberty to knock on the room he was provided with, the stylists already in.

“Come in!” sounded from the inside and you took a deep breath, poking your head in – and deciding that entering fully was more polite since you were about to introduce yourself.

“Good afternoon,” you greeted him, only a showing a smidge of nerves on the outside, you hoped.

As you offered your name, the blond man – built like a tank, a very handsome tank, with the sweetest inviting smile and bright eyes – rose from his seat immediately, holding out a hand to shake, introducing himself as well as if it was necessary. It was a nice sentiment, however.

“Please, call me Steve. Something tells me that formalities would only get in the way,” he said with a slight curve to his lips and you felt yourself relax right away. He’d be excellent to work with. Now you really couldn’t wait.

“Then you must call me by my name too. Thank you for suggesting it,” you accepted delightfully, eyeing the pair of stylists you had met before on similar projects; this kind of business was all about knowing the right people. You nodded at them, grinning. “Now, Steve, I have a very important mission for you.”

The captain’s eyebrows jumped at your wording – and at your teasing. You scolded yourself lightly for your choice of words, unwittingly nudging him towards the wrong headspace. You didn’t need a soldier now, quite the opposite.

“Oh?”

“I need you to tell these two lovely people what amount of make-up and what hairstyle you’re comfortable with,” you explained, earning a slightly confused tilt of Steve’s head. “Sure, I have a certain visual in my head, I’m sure they have too.” You exchanged a knowing look with them. “But most of all I need you to feel good.  If you’re pressured into something you hate, we can’t work any magic there.”

Steve nodded in understanding, stiffly, and you had a hunch that he might have been pressured into this whole thing.

“But please don’t leave on us now,” you added quickly and he huffed a short laugh, bittersweet, letting you know that you were correct in your assumption.

“I won’t leave. But thank you for the tip.”

Gosh, he was so polite and had a subtle air of greatness around him (also known as BD energy these days), you could bask in his presence forever – but you had to work.

“All in days’ work. I’ll see you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Your heart skipped an excited beat when a twinkle appeared in his brilliant blue irises and you were done for.

You really hoped your hands wouldn’t shake; you’d hate for the pictures to be blurry.

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Once you were in your own kingdom of wonders, all nerves vanished, only child-like giddiness remaining. However, same couldn’t be said about Steve; he entered the space, fidgeting – not too obviously, but visibly enough – eyes flickering all over the room as if he just arrived to a Wonderland indeed.

If you were being honest, such a hunk of a man appearing so endearingly lost… he was kinda adorable.

You felt the corners of your lips automatically rise at your silly thoughts and at the image of him. Besides adorable, he sure looked hot in the white jacket. Who knew sportwear could look so alluring?

“Looking good here, Steve,” you called out as he approached and upon meeting your eyes, he attempted a smile too – little too apprehensive on the edges for you to believe it was honesty and not sheer professional courtesy. “Clothes feel good?”

You could see his expression melt into pure puzzlement at such question, clearly not having expected it.

“Oh… uhm, yes. Thank you.”

“I meant what I said. I need you to be comfortable, Steve,” you reminded him softly, earning a rather frantic nod.

“I… am.”

You could practically hear the unspoken ‘sort of’. Well, it was a work in progress.

“Little steps. Alright, so… I’m gonna be talking a lot. Cut me off whenever I’ll be getting on your nerves too much, okay? We’ll start with this set-up, with this background, obviously. I need to you to just walk to the centre- good, now turn your head to the left—a bit more… perfect.” Not.

Uh-huh. Probably his first time; you should have figured, though a heads-up would be nice. You should have asked dammit. You chewed on your lower lip, gears in your head spinning wildly as you tried to assess him.

Mm.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

His head snapped back to you in surprise and you couldn’t but chuckle, mock-frowning at him. He realized his mistake and quickly looked away, returning to the pose you had attempted to set him into before – his beautiful profile now dusted with pink.

“The colour?” you encouraged him and started taking photos even if you knew you wouldn’t use them, not with his shoulders so stiff and his expression slightly twisted in confusion still – even if he apparently tried to look natural.

“Uhm, blue.”

His face relaxed a fraction and you smiled to yourself.

“More sky-blue or royal blue or something entirely else?” you continued, not at all surprised when a second later you learned that it was sky-blue.

You thought it might be because of his eyes and you wondered; perhaps his eyes were the only thing that hadn’t changed during the serum transformation. His eyes were last straw to grasp at when his whole body suddenly didn’t feel like his.

Or maybe he was moonlighting as an artist, appreciating all kinds of beauty like you did and knew his stuff.

Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t seen colour so well before his transformation and fell in love with the particular shade upon seeing the sky.

“Mm… ever had the time to appreciate the sight of the ocean? Breath-taking blue on the surface, matching the sky, reflecting the sunrays so sharp that it would make one squint—but you don’t, you can’t. Because damn, it’s so beautiful and you can feel the breeze in your hair, almost flowing between your fingers and you just have to keep your eyes open to commit to memory what it looks like, how it feels, the sand between your toes, the sun warm on your skin…”

You babbled on, your heart fluttering at how damn magnificent Steve looked now, gradually relaxing his posture, his eyes softening, the corners of his mouth subtly raised in a smile, not an artificial one, just a soft curve to his lips as he lost himself in a pleasant memory – or a daydream. You had to remind yourself to press the shutter release; it would be too easy to simply watch the man in front of you coming out of his shell, releasing his light and grace for everyone to see.

“Absolutely wonderful, Steve, thank you. Shall we move on?” you praised him softly and his absurdly long lashes fluttered as if he indeed woke up from a dream. He appeared to be a little lost again, but the smile remained on his lips.

“Of course. Where do you want me, ma’am-- I mean-“

“Oh hush!” you interrupted him rudely with a grin. He was too precious for words, resembling a puppy, all soft and loveable and  yet he was somehow so respectable; you’d have to watch yourself just so you wouldn’t fall in love with him in the short time you were given together. “No ma’am, we’ve been over this. Now…”

You instructed him to walk to the wall of a ‘beach house’, half of the background imitating the very beach you had described; you offered him a different jacket and a cap to hold in his hands, the item serving more than one purpose; one was the campaign, the other was to give him something to do with his hands.

For this picture, you had him looking at you, which made you fidget self-consciously for a change; this time, the story you came up with was to put both of you at ease.

At this point, Steve was an open book to you – or, well, open enough. You had done your reading on him a bit, sure, but now you truly started to see his personality – one of your favourite parts of doing photography coming into play.

“Alright. Posture is great. Now, do you often meet kids?”

Steve wasn’t as surprised at the question anymore, replying calmly, but almost without a thought.

“Yeah. We, uh, we sometimes go to the hospitals to make the patients’ day a bit better? It’s such a small thing to do, I know, for an oncological kid, but they are always delighted. And they are so brave, I feel like a—well, like a sucker compared to them.”

“Weren’t you sickly as a kid?” you questioned lowly and Steve’s gaze dropped as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his expression falling.

“Done your reading, huh?”

“The wonders of 21st century and our educational system. But I’m just bringing it up to make a point. I think that you can see them and that’s why they like you visiting so much. Something tells me that you can truly feel what they feel and they sense it – kids can be ridiculously intuitive. Maybe you share, I don’t know of course, but I think that somehow they just know and they see a fellow warrior who beat all the illnesses too. And they look up to you, because you give them hope. And not just sick kids. I bet you met a few kids claiming you’re their favourite superhero just because you have a frisbee.”

He chuckled at that and nodded, but you could see that what you had said before the funny bit touched him and it had been that part that had the desired effect – to pull him back where you wanted him, relaxed and positive.

“Okay, that’s fair.”

“You’re not everyone’s hero for nothing, Steve, you’ve done some pretty heroic stuff to begin with. But I think it’s what behind the shield that some people find even more inspiring. Be proud of that too.”

The perfect shot was taken and you couldn’t but recall the quote I once saw a man so beautiful I started crying, because yeah, you could weep now. You quickly stood up and took few more pictures, because it was too good of an opportunity to pass up on.

“And look at you, turning into a model so easily when it comes to helping people, again,” you teased him lightly while being nothing but honest.

As at ease as he appeared now, you’d think he was doing this on a regular basis. As if you hadn’t been trying to coax out his true self out for everyone to see in a simple photo just a few minutes ago.

His hands found their way into the pockets of temporarily his jacket, gaze falling to the floor before his eyes locked onto yours, grateful and gentle.

“I’m pretty sure that’s all you. Thank you for being so patient with me. I thought this would remind me of the old days when I-” He hesitated, blue eyes lightly misted with doubt, so you beckoned for him to continue to speak freely. You’d got into some pretty deep stuff yourself just a moment ago after all. “-when I was a lab experiment to show off.”

You nodded in understanding, even if you couldn’t imagine what was it like; then again, in your early days, you had met enough parents who came to your atelier to show off their trophy children, so this wasn’t exactly a foreign concept.  

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sure that however you hated doing it, you were giving people hope back then too. And it’s not right to reduce person to a symbol, but symbols were and are important. As long as there are people who are able to see beyond the simplification, then I think it’s worth it. Then again, I never was anyone’s dancing monkey, so…” you shrugged, internally cringing at being such a blabbermouth, afraid that you came too far, put Steve off and that he would withdraw back to his shell.

But he didn’t. He gifted you a brilliant smile, one reaching his eyes.

“And all this?” you hummed, vaguely gesturing around, hoping he’d catch on. “I’m glad if you like the way I work, but the pictures? That’s not me, Steve, that’s you. And all I hope for is to show people a little bit more of you, throwing away the shield and letting them see that Steve Rogers is just as radiant.”

The intensity of his gaze now was enough to make your heart stop beating, his expression suddenly unreadable and you quickly covered your mouth, an apology already spilling from your lips.

“I’m so sorry if this made you uncomfortable and I turned into one of the fawning fangirls, that wasn’t my intention. You have to stop me when I get too much-“

“You’re didn’t and you don’t,” he smiled kindly and shook his head, appearing genuine. “I just never met anyone like you. And I mean that in the good way, just to be clear.”

You felt your face burn; because of your TMI talk and his compliment.

“T-thank you,” you stuttered out, causing his smile to turn radiant indeed.

He kept watching you, silent, eyes roaming your face, irises blue and intense—when had he got so close? Or did you walk to him? He was positively prettier upon closer inspection, all sharp edges to his jaw, lips calling out with how damn soft they would be, not to even mention his hair, and oh, was that a drop of green in his eyes? Oh wow, you could drown in that single drop, surrounded by the most enticing shade of blue and--- you closed your eyes and cleared your throat, trying your best to ignore the tingle in your fingertips and in your gut, pleasant warmth in your core-

“We, uhm, we should probably go back to work,” you whispered, licking your lips as you once again glanced at his and you swiftly spun on your heels, desperately trying to remember what shots you wanted to take next and if it was time for him to change already- oh god, you couldn’t possibly handle the thought of him losing clothes…

His expression dimmed a fraction, an epitome of slipping back into politeness. “Of course. Tell me how you need me… ma’am,” he teased, subtle quirk to his lips and you felt your cheeks burn hotter— but your breathing got easier as he was letting you know that you were still alright.

You had a half-mind to call him a soldier in the same manner, but you didn’t want him to slip into that persona.

“Oh, you have no idea what you signed up for, Steven.”

He chuckled, but followed you as you walked to the next scenery.

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“What the hell, Rogers?!”

Tony’s voice reached Steve’s ears just as he entered the kitchen after his morning run and shower, his heart skipping a beat, his whole body instantly on alert; he wanted nothing but to spin on his heels and walk right back to where he came from.

Why?

You see, living in the Avengers Tower meant spending extended periods of time in Tony Stark’s company. Spending extended periods of time in Tony’s company meant that one would learn how to recognize certain situations; Steve could easily tell when the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist had pulled an all-nighter in his lab, when he was in a long-term fight with Pepper, when he was annoyed, when he was delighted.

And this right here, the ‘What the hell, Rogers?’, that meant nothing good – certainly not for the guy in question. Tony seemed awfully exasperated and perplexed at some of Steve’s past actions probably, and that usually meant a lot of uncomfortable questions coming his way.

God help him.

Yet, he sighed and walked in, preferring to face his fate right away and go about his day as soon as possible.

“What did I do?”

“Jarvis, if you could, please,” Tony requested with a solemn expression, one of his thin holographic devices lighting up on the counter and instantly projecting several floating images as Steve walked closer.

Steve’s lips parted in surprise, shocked ‘oh’ escaping them as his heart was sent into frenzy.

Twenty images in total, photos of a blond man of Steve’s own body-built, clad in sportswear posing in every single one of them. His face was familiar too and yet somehow foreign; surely these couldn’t be real. There was no way Steve looked so confident and almost proud in some pictures, but mainly, appearing so comfortable in his skin.

Steve’s mind raced as he tried to associate the model with his own person and yet—he couldn’t but feel rather satisfied. Because this was most definitely him. And the photos were… well, not bad at all. Simultaneously, while his chest puffed with pride he desperately attempted not to let go into his head, he remembered precisely how these photos came to existence and who should totally take the credit here.

“That’s all you gonna say?! Oh?” Tony demanded, gesturing around the holograms as if these were corpus delicti of a serious offence and Steve was once again reminded of what Tony Stark was not; a patient man.

Steve felt a smile creep onto his lips as he shrugged.

“Oh, he says. You’re asking me what did you do?! THIS! If I knew you were a damn runaway model, I would have expected less fun than I did when imaging seeing you squirm! Look at this! These are way too good!”

Steve couldn’t disagree, mildly amused at Tony’s antics. In fact, he really was ridiculously content with the results of something he had dreaded and couldn’t have even hoped to turn out like this.

“…is that a bad thing?” he couldn’t but mock, earning an exasperated huff… and a smirk.

“Well… not, I guess. My little black heart is just… disappointed.”

Ah, yes. The heavily guarded secret – Tony Stark did have a heart and contrary to popular opinion, it was not little or black.

“No, it’s not.”

“Hush!” Tony shushed him, a twinkle appearing in his eye, amusement mixing with satisfaction. “But seriously. What the hell? Since when do you… pose? Like this? Like… wow.”

“Careful there, Stark, you’ll make him blush,” Natasha hummed as she entered the communal kitchen, checking out the flowing pictures with interest and a curve to her lips. “These are pretty great. You did well, Rogers.”

And all of sudden, Steve couldn’t handle the praise anymore; it had been fun with Tony, but now when Natasha joined in, swiftly followed by a wolf-whistle from Sam at her heels…  it felt wrong to brag about this, it wasn’t fair – he wasn’t the one who deserved to be given the majority of the merit.

“It’s… it wasn’t me, really…“ he admitted sheepishly.

And it wasn’t. It was all you.

Looking at the photos, he could tell what you were talking about when you pressed the shutter release for every single one of them. Painting the vivid image of the ocean just with your words. Calling him a hero in a way no one ever had. Pleading him to be proud of what he had accomplished. Making him feel those things, causing him to gradually gain confidence, feeling good in his own skin even when being at the centre of attention, encouraging him to suggest a pose on his own. Hell, Steve might go as far as to say that he had been having fun.

But it was all you.

“Looks a lot like you, man,” Sam chuckled and Steve would have shot him an annoyed glare hadn’t he been so embarrassed and self-conscious to admit who was to blame for the pictures turning out so great.

Because… yeah, Steve wasn’t vain or tried not to be, but these were pretty swell. You were a magician, you had to be. And he had fallen straight into the trap of your charms.

“Har har… the photographer was amazing. She made me feel-” He didn’t even know how to describe it without making himself look like a complete fool… for you. “-great. She was really supportive the whole time, sometimes even making me forget she was taking shots.”

“Alert!” Tony cried out all of sudden, nearly causing Steve to jump out of his skin. “I sense romance! How’s Cap heart, Jarvis? Has the security been breached? Should we run some scans-”

“Shut up, Tony,” Steve huffed in irritation, attempting to hide how precisely the billionaire hit the nail on its head.

“Awww, now he is blushing,” Natasha teased and Steve felt the heat in his cheeks burn.

“Well, luckily for him, there was a business card along with the printed photos that arrived this morning.”

Steve’s head immediately snapped Tony’s direction, curious and excited. You left a business card? That was—it probably didn’t mean anything along the lines he wished, but still!

The billionaire held out the simple creamy-coloured item between two fingers, but quickly snatched it away when Steve reached for it. Steve shot him a murderous glare. Dammit man-child!

“Full story or you’re not getting any, pun intended.”

“Oh, go to hell, Stark-”

“Come on, Stark. We all know he has some work ethics unlike you. Let him start a thing before you interrogate him. Plus, if he’s got a phone number from a hot girl for the free work he did, good for him. Give him the card,” Natasha supported the poor blond and Tony rolled his eyes before shooting the Widow a look of betrayal. Sam just chuckled at their antics. Steve snatched the card before they could change their mind, while Natasha smiled behind her cup. “We expect a full report later though.”

She exchanged a high-five with Sam under the bar, but Steve was too busy examining the card and having his heart beating incredibly fast to feel exasperated at his childish friends.

As he flipped the card in his fingers, he felt a wide smile spread his lips at their own accord.

If you ever need another photoshoot or anything at all, don’t hesitate to call. xxx

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷*✧⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

S.R. masterlist

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷*✧⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Thank you for reading :-*

Link to the inspiration post will be in reblog!

What can I say to my defence? I just really like making Steve happy, okay?

And yeah, the 2016 FILA is perfect too, but this fic is a result of a suggestion of a friend and babyface CE is more Steve, what can I say…

[germanysimplified]

Top listed traditional food in Germany

Each country has something special to offer when it comes to food. Asian countries are known for their spicy and dynamic dishes while European countries are beloved for their desserts. Although German food is not particularly well-regarded worldwide, it still has a special place in the culinary world. What it lacks in refinement it more than makes up for in flavor and heartiness. Traditional food in Germany is a diverse blend of rich history and appetizing flavor. We have curated an overview of some traditional German dishes you are likely to encounter. Many regional specialties are very popular original dishes from Germany.

Eintopf

Eintopf is a simple stew that translates to “one-pot”. As the name suggests, it is prepared in a single dish. It generally consists of a combination of broth, vegetables, potatoes, and meat or sausages.

Eintopf has a somewhat unfortunate history. The dish was popularised by the Nazi party in their “Eintopfsonntag” campaign. That encouraged Germans to eschew the traditional Sunday roast dinner in favor of a thriftier one-pot meal and set the savings aside for charity. Despite this unsavory association, the Eintopf remains a popular traditional dish in Germany.

Erbsensuppe (pea soup)

Erbsensuppe – or pea soup – is a thick, hearty soup made from split peas, potatoes, ham hock, and Frankfurter sausages. It is usually eaten steaming hot with a thick slice of bread and butter.

An especially popular dish in Germany in the winter months. It is often sold by street vendors, particularly at Karneval celebrations in Cologne, Mainz, and Düsseldorf. Scooping up a hot spoonful of this savory dish whilst shivering in sub-zero temperatures, it’ll be the most delicious thing you’ve ever tasted.

Bratwurst

Any conversation about traditional German food is incomplete without the mention of sausages! The history of the Bratwurst in Germany stretches back to 1313 when the council in Nuremberg stipulated that only pork loin meat was to be used in sausage-making. Although there are now as many as 40 different varieties of German Bratwurst, the recipe has barely changed in 700 years.

Bratwurst is typically served by street vendors in a white bread roll with ketchup or mustard. They may also be served in restaurants, often with potato salad and Sauerkraut.

Leberkäse

Although it translates as “liver cheese”, Leberkäse is a mixture of finely-ground pork, beef, or liver (and sometimes all three). Vaguely reminiscent of meatloaf, it is typically pressed into a bread tin and then baked to form a crunchy brown crust.

Leberkäse is an interesting traditional food in Germany. By law, it has to contain at least 4 percent liver (5 percent in Stuttgart). However, an exception is made for Bavaria, where Leberkäse that doesn’t contain liver can be produced. In many parts of Germany, it is traditionally eaten in a bread roll as a snack.

Rouladen

They may sound French, but Rouladen is very much a classic traditional German dish. They are rolls of thinly-sliced beef stuffed with pork, onions, and pickles. Once assembled, the rolls are browned in a pan and then braised in red wine and broth.

Although at one-time Rouladen was considered part of an everyday meal, nowadays they are usually only eaten on special occasions. Perhaps because they are quite a hassle to make! They are usually served with either potato dumplings or mashed potato and plenty of gravy.

Schnitzel

Germany’s favorite and most famous dish is not German. It’s not even Austrian! Its convoluted history can be traced from Vienna to Milan, where locals learned it from Spanish soldiers, who got it from the Arabs, who brought it from the Byzantine empire.

Whatever its origins, the fact of the matter is that almost everyone likes Schnitzel: a tender, boneless piece of meat (most often pork), breaded, fried, and served with a wedge of lemon. Wiener Schnitzel is made with veal while Jägerschnitzel (hunter’s’ schnitzel) comes with a mushroom sauce.

Flammkuchen

Germany’s answer to French Tartiflette, Flammkuchen (“flame cake”) is a cross between a pizza and a flatbread: a thin, crispy base topped with creme fraiche, bacon, and onions. Considered as one of the most favorite traditional dishes, it’s so good that the Alsace and Saarland regions often debate over who invented it.

Although some eateries in Germany may experiment with different toppings and vegetarian versions, there isn’t any need to reinvent the wheel when Flammkuchen’s original iteration is sheer perfection. Shared between friends, it’s the perfect snack to accompany a cold glass of German white wine.

Brezeln (pretzels)

Forget those little pretzels you get in snack packets from the supermarket – these are the real thing. Brezeln are chewy, bagel-like bread, shaped into a loop and covered with salt. Although accounts regarding the origin of pretzels vary enormously, they tend to agree that they were invented by European monks and that the characteristic knot shape has some sort of religious significance.

Brezeln have been part of German baking traditions for centuries, to the extent that the pretzel is used as the emblem for bakers in southern Germany. The shape and exact recipe of pretzels vary considerably across Germany; savory ones are typically eaten as a snack or, in Munich and the rest of Bavaria, as a complement to the main meal.

Pumpernickel

Germans are passionate bread lovers. Around 300 kinds of bread and 1,200 different kinds of pastries and rolls are produced. all this is done in about 17,000 bakeries and another 10,000 in-shop bakeries in Germany. Among these, Pumpernickel is considered a favorite. A dense rye bread made with a sourdough starter. Its name reputedly refers to the fact that it is hard to digest: pumpern in old Westphalian means “to break wind”

While most varieties of black bread (Schwarzbrot) are baked, Pumpernickel is steamed at a low temperature for anywhere up to 24 hours. Resulting in the bread’s characteristic dark color. Pumpernickel can typically be eaten at most meals – with cold meats and cheeses for breakfast, as an accompaniment to a hot lunchtime meal, or as part of a light dinner.

Conclusion

Traditional food in Germany is a culinary delight that is sure to be a treat to your taste buds. Whatever the dish, make sure to try their impressively wide range of beer.

[honourablejester]

An origin story for a Fathomless Warlock

And/or a potential encounter with a society (not quite a cult) of kraken priests, depending. With the lighthouse keeper background I came up with, because I can come up with pretty much endless stories about lighthouses and the weirdos who live in them.

The Kraken Brides of Ketan Point Lighthouse

Ketan Point Lighthouse is an ancient tower of green stone on a desolate, battered stretch of coastline. A narrow, stony road winds through the woods and up the cliffs from the nearest village, some fifteen miles inland. Ketan Point is only ever resupplied by land. Only the bravest and most foolhardy venture out onto the waters beyond the Point. Fishing boats and small vessels are rarely seen, and even the mightier shipping of the great trade routes give Ketan Point a wide, wide berth.

The reason for this lies three miles offshore beyond the Point, where the turbulent currents of Ketan Point become the ravenous, swirling waters of the Karybdis Maelstrom, a vast, monstrous whirlpool that seizes anything that sails into it and plunges it down into black, abyssal depths.

On its own, the maelstrom would be more than enough to deter shipping, but it isn’t alone. Something lives in its black, crushing depths, an ancient, titanic deterrent all its own.

Karybdis himself, for whom the maelstrom is named. The Kraken of Ketan Point.

And it was for Karybdis that a lighthouse was built over a stretch of water all but empty of ships. The light warns no one away. Other, smaller lighthouses further up the coast perform that role, warning ships that they need to head further out to sea well before the maelstrom or the kraken become a potential danger. Ketan Point, a bare few miles away, was built for a different purpose.

The green stone tower, with its great beacon at its summit, houses the Kraken’s Bride.

Karybdis is beyond ancient, a fearsome creature of legend. Once upon a time, it’s said, generations of elves ago, he was a fiercer, tempestuous, much more wrathful force. Not content with the maelstrom, he roamed for leagues upon leagues, the length and breadth of the coast, shattering ships to flinders, and visiting vengeance upon the great sea ports for even the slightest of insults. The stories of him were many. Some said he had been wounded once, in some titanic battle of gods, and that the wound had driven him mad, made him little but wrath given flesh. Others said simply that he was a raw force of evil, lashing out at all around him.

But there was more to the great kraken than that. Mad he may have been, but not stupid, nor simple either. No one knows the reason for the bargain he one day proposed, out of the blue. Whether it was survival instinct, to stave off war before some god or state found a champion fit to wound him again, or … something else. Some desire of his own, more important than destruction. Loneliness, perhaps. Maybe, at the base of it, just simple loneliness.

Whatever it was, the kraken came one day to each of the great ports that he had threatened and vented his wrath upon, and reached out his thunderous thoughts in the language of gods to all who would listen and attempt to understand. A bargain, he offered. A stay of his hand. Well, tentacle. A cease of his violence against their ports and their ships, if they would give into to his keeping something of their own in return. A companion, to keep him company in his thoughts. A sacrifice, who would spend their lives with him.

A lighthouse was built, a beacon tower to lift them towards his presence, a green bastion on the cliffs above his maelstrom. So began the Kraken Brides of Ketan Point.

It is a softer duty now, at least somewhat. Time and companionship have … if not quite softened, at least cooled the great kraken over time. He does not demand a life in its entirety now. Or, perhaps, he merely appreciates a little diversity in his companions. A little worldliness, a little depth of experience and thought. Male or female, it doesn’t matter to him, nor race nor creed. Only strength of mind, and the ability to hold his interest. He asks not a lifetime, so that they might have something outside of himself to share with him, when the time comes. To be a Kraken Bride, the Lighthouse Keeper of Ketan Point, is perhaps no longer such an onerous and monstrous position.

Ten years. Karybdis asks ten years of any prospective Keeper. To give ten years of their life to his company, to share his thoughts as he lies dreaming beneath the maelstrom, to speak with him, play him music, tell him stories. Debate with him, engage with him. Remind him of the value of the world. Meet him, in the flesh, and stand fearless or at least unbowed before his form when he rises above the lighthouse tower every new moon, in the light of the beacon beam, to greet his Keepers in person.

Ten years, as his companion. And then ten more, to seek out a replacement for him.

The Keepers are a lineage, now, chosen by alternating predecessors. While one Keeper serves their time, their predecessor will seek out and choose their successor. It takes a certain sort of personality to hold up to Karybdis. Someone curious, practical. Not to prone to fear where none is warranted. Robust in personality, and willing to argue with monsters. Someone with stories to tell. The Keepers know what to look for, and trust no one else to choose wisely enough. Too many in the world beyond the tower have forgotten what Karybdis once was, and might take their task too lightly.

While they walk the world, seeking out successors on his behalf, they carry his power within them. Karybdis looks after his Brides, for their twenty years, and sometimes even after. There are some who have been Brides for him several times, Keepers of long-lived races who have returned to him for twenty years in every hundred, or two hundred, when they have something new to share with him. He reaches out his power to all of them.

And they reach out to each other, too. Kraken Brides of Karybdis rarely forget where they have come from. Who chose them, and who they chose, and who they went to for aid while seeking them. One Keeper of Ketan Point will always know another, and almost always aid them.

It takes a certain sort of personality, after all, to hold up to a kraken for years on end, in the cause of keeping a world safe from his wrath, and he himself safe from his emptiness.

Because it must not be forgotten. Time and companionship may have softened and cooled him, but Karybdis is still a kraken. An ancient, wounded, maddened remnant of all the long-ago wars of gods. His wrath may be deterred, staved off by his bargain, but it is not gone. Woe betide any who would break their bargain with him, and any who would poison or sabotage the mission of his Keepers. Should a Bride betray him, abandon their ten years before they are up, refuse to choose a successor, or choose a successor only to poison or wound him, then all others who survive must have no choice but to hunt them down, and stand willing to replace them the moment they know the betrayal. The moment Karybdis believes that his bargain is no longer being upheld is the moment he returns to the wrathful monstrosity he once was, and all who live upon his coastline reap the reward of it. His Brides, the Keepers of Ketan Point, must have this ever and always in their minds.

On their shoulders rests the safety of every city that touches the sea.

(Notes: Yes, Karybdis is a reference to Charybdis of ‘between Scylla and Charybdis’ fame, and ‘Ketan’ Point is a reference to Cetus. Because I watched Clash of the Titans young, and yes I know krakens aren’t Greek, but in a D&D context they definitely work with the reference. Also, I really like Fathomless Warlocks. And kraken cults. And lighthouses. So, you know? Have a broadly good-aligned society-slash-cult of fathomless warlocks with a ancient, lonely, extraordinarily cranky kraken patron?)

[katsukikitten]

Warnings College AU sexual and adult themes. Yall know the drill okay

Chapter 2

Bugzapper⚡💔: i have a proposition to make. 

Jiro flashes Mina her phone as she sips iced coffee in the blessed air conditioning of the cafe.

"That's never a good sign." She comments, moon bright eyes glued to the phone as she thinks. 

"What's not a good sign?" Uraraka asks from across the table, the two girls fill her in. 

"Oh." She racks her brain on what that could be, "Okay well I'm dying to know, now." 

🎵Music to my soul 🎶 : What do you want airhead? 

Jiro's text sent a surge of excitement through Kaminari. It was exactly what he needed after three hours of begging and bribing Bakugou to allow the sorority in or at least invite them. His fingers fly across the screen setting up a date and time for a "meeting over lunch" to discuss the proposition in further detail.  

Meanwhile across campus, you huff, eyes narrowed as a rare emotion is pulled from your fingertips in the form of deadly ice. Pulling the moisture from the air to freeze it or pulling any water towards you to keep your flank safe as your opponent rushes you at breakneck speeds. 

You hated this fucking guy, cocky, brash, so God damn arrogant in the way he held himself, in the way he spoke. It made you nauseous just thinking of him.Had you known he was the male star of this university you wouldn't have transferred, yet you still needed to transfer didn't you? Anything to get out from under the shadow of a certain Todoroki. 

No one cared to admit or to notice, that your quirk was different from Shoto's. You could manipulate water towards you to freeze, and manipulate whatever was already frozen. Your ice was denser and more durable than his and dare you say it colder than his too. Yet no one gave a shit, his was ice AND fire. You were just a one trick pony and a trick they already saw. Your opponent's taunting doesn't help matters much.

"I've already seen this before Ice Brat. Did ya forget where I fucking went to high school?" His hand heats the ice as he activates his quirk before three deafening blasts ring out. 

As you allow him to break down the ice you act on pure rage, securing some revenge from the first time he signed your hair. Pointed icicles lie in wait and once the wall is fully down you give him a nasty smirk before sending the straight his way. 

You're supposed to melt your weapons before they hit your opponent, neither of you are supposed to go all out per the professor's and college's strict rules in the athletics department but Bakugou always does. Somehow his big stupid mouth spews something that eggs you on. As if someone were shoving bamboo skewers beneath your skin, under your nails, sending you into an unheard of rage. 

Normally you were as your quirk, icy, unbothered by the world but Bakugou, God you could wring his neck. Freeze his hot blood as you watch him turn into slush beneath your feet. 

He expects you to abide by the rules, to splash him with glacier water but he realizes it too late. That you won't he let's off a quick blast, shattering two of the four deadly points. One grazes his cheek as he just barely dodges while the other lodges itself into his arm. 

You have half a mind to twist it. You pull at his blood bringing it into your arsenal. Blood red needles and bullets surround Bakugou. 

"I don't think you've seen this before.." You say darkly ready to release your hold and shred him into, give him a taste of his own medicine. Maybe he would see how bitter and nauseating he was. He smirks, opening his mouth to retort but you send your ice his way aiming for non vital spots although the ice creeps closer to your heart begging it to hit something vital. The inside of your ice palace begins to reek of burning sugar and spice, he plans to let out an explosion to bring this whole place down from the inside out. 

Just as he is about to detonate and just as the blood and ice are about to pierce skin the professor bursts into the gym.  

"I step out for five minutes and this is what happens?!"

The ice and blood return to liquid splashing across Bakugou as his skin pops. The professor takes in the damage from your ice and his explosions, still better controlled than most of his other students quirks. 

"I gotta stop pairing these two together." He murmurs to himself before dismissing class. With a flick of your wrist the ice fortress melts, returning to the reservoir below the gym floor, ignoring the molten glare that is sent your way.

"You're such a bitch." Bakugou growls as you pass, flinging blood from his fingers as he wipes at his face. You offer him a fake pitying smile before heading into the women's locker room. 

"Fucking asshole." You hiss, forcing the sight of his garnet gaze out of your mind. Instead turning your attention to your buzzing phone in your locker. It's a few missed calls and some texts in the girl's group chat. Briefly you wonder if you ever should have joined that stupid sorority, it was small, non toxic, and would look good should you need to transfer again. 

Not only did you somehow get elected the president but you also became friends with the three other ladies despite your best efforts not too. 

Mins: Prez we might have a way to save the sorority...lunch after you're done with training? 

IceQueen ❄: Hope it's good, the Dean already put the house up for sale. Let me get ready and I'll be there shortly. 

Mina presents her phone to the crowd around her, Kirishima, Denki, Sero, Jiro and Uraraka do a small celebration. Denki more so than anyone else, he knows the combined car washes will be more than enough to fix up the house, he also recently learned that you had the power of negotiation on your side. Having just listened to Mina retell the story of how you got free food for a month from a bar for yourself and your friends. And not from some sleaze who wanted to sleep with you either, no it was from the owner himself. 

Denki is hopeful and so are the ladies indicating that this may be his best idea yet. 

You arrive at the small bistro early, spying your party on the front patio. The three men had seen you in person before, they knew you were easy on the eyes but up close you were breathtaking. Manicured nails but nothing gaudy, normally nude or soft shades, light makeup, mascara at most as far as they could tell and your outfit was well put together. You were what the world called plus size but everyone else called thiccc. Your confidence oozing in your light blouse tucked into your black skinny jeans, uncaring that you had a pouch. 

You needed that extra fat to keep from freezing by your own quirk. The only thing you needed society to worry about was your intelligence and your power. 

Both were SSR ranked so what did you fucking care that your body was ranked lower. They were stupid in thinking you'd skimp power in the name of vanity. 

You recognize everyone at the table and internalize the dread you're feeling. Scheming is afoot and you're the last to arrive. You can tell by their half finished drinks and picked over appetizer, still you sit and act unaware. Denki goes to hold out his hand first for a formal introduction causing a sly cat smile to settle over your glossy lips. 

"No need, I'm aware of who the three of you are. Sero we share our lingual class, Denki, our chemistry class, and Kirishima we share two classes, world studies and villain hero theory. Truly a pleasure." You tell then your name before ordering something to drink from the lingering waitress. Sitting stick straight with your shoulders backs has the men mirroring you. 

"Well ladies I take it the plan to save the sorority involves these fine gentlemen." You ask coolly and they nod. After a moment of silence Mina and Denki go to speak. Awkwardly encouraging the other to speak until Minai clears her throat. 

"As you know they are a newly formed frat with Sero as their president. They moved into their house about a month ago and they say it is quite large. So they have invited us to move in." 

"How do you propose we ask the college to have a co-ed house? What does this fraternity home even look like?" They knew you would be quick to ask questions Mina answers the first while Denki provides the answer to the second. 

"Union and Diversity. Forming close relationships now to carry over into our hero careers." 

"The house needs some work but looks a lot better than what it did." Denki shows you before and after pictures as you gesture for his phone. He passes you his electric yellow case with nervous hope tingling beneath his skin. You swipe through the photos. 

"You boys did a great job on the outside. Inside needs a lot of work. Hardwoods will be easy to fix, they are original but don't seen to be damaged, a good scrub will spruce them up. Wait, are those?" You zoom in on the photo of the living room, "Are those foldable camping chairs and a VHS tv?" 

They gulp loudly as they nod, your purse your lips in disapproval. 

"I can fix that." You pass Denki back his phone, assuming that all the roommates will be present, "I see the main focus was the kitchen but some of the appliances seem to be on their last legs. I can fix that as well." 

"Soooo….So it's a yes?" Jiro asks, feeling relief for the first time in months since they received the letter of eviction. 

"Gotta get the college to agree first." You think on it a moment, "But I'm sure we can arrange that. Uraraka can you draft an email to the Dean requesting an official meeting regarding our sorority? Be sure to explain in detail our situation, how we are being forced to disband by their account and the solution we have. Make sure it's an afternoon meeting too. The dean hates to miss golf with our rival university's dean." 

With the plan set in motion all of you return to your evening classes. Jiro nudges Denki in the ribs, listening to his heart race from their closeness. 

"When are we going to tell her about Bakugou?" She throws her almost lover a look that he seems to wither beneath. His jaw tics before he retorts. 

"I think we should wait to see if this even works first." 

After a week the important meeting arrives and as you thought the Dean is already exhibiting signs of impatience. He is more than ready to wrap this up and you already know his answer is going to be no. Already trying to get it out before the four of you can even have a seat. 

Still you weren't the Ice Queen on campus for nothing. You saunter into the room, mineola folder filled with your copies of counterpoints pressed firmly to your chest, you can already see he doesn't have the copies you sent him. You place the folder down and open it, leafing through the pages as you speak. 

"This request is going to be approved and here are the reasons why. An example of sexism could be made that a new fraternity was approved housing, new housing, after a decades old sorority was deemed "too small" both parties are similar in count. Second funding and donations are easily influenced with letters to alumni and especially by attendees to this university. My transfer from YAU has brought in revenue of roughly 2.6 million dollars, increasing your diversity for women when this is normally a male dominated school. I am aware that my transfer had even encouraged other students from YAU to transfer here. Which I'm sure is one of your favorite bragging points to tell Dean Fraunk during your weekly golf trips isn't it? So it would truly be a shame if these points would come to light in the investigation of my return to YUA just months before the university sports festival. I do look amazing in Ice Blue you know. Matches my quirk a lot better than Maroon." You put the ball in his court, he is visibly upset, eyes flying to the facts that you've presented. All important, viable facts. You were right MMU was known to be a male dominated school and the media would have a field day if they uncovered a mistake he happened to look over. Not to mention you were his main bragging point, Dean Yuzi always talked about how he had stolen you, the female star of rising heroes, from YUA.  The silence in the room is amplified by the ticking of the clock, seconds accumulating into minutes as it counts down his T time with his old college buddy and rival. He gulps nervously, knowing what he has to do in order to keep both his bragging rights and a law suit under wraps. He looks up to you as you wear your stone cold face, making him think of a loan shark who hasn't been getting their payments on time. He is fearful for your future boss.  

"I believe I have no choice but to approve." 

"Correct." You respond, "Now we have a bit more to discuss. I noticed that classrooms 456 and 215 are being remodeled. Those gently used flat screens will be given to our house since it is technically college property. Common space 3 and 1 are being renovated in dorms A and B. We will accept the leather arm chairs as they are in good shape but we demand a new couch. I know it is in the budget as I help plan the budget. I also believe it is time for an allowance for our hybrid house." The Dean shrinks away from your tenacity, nodding as that is all he can do.  

"Well this is a generous offer and should cover most of the basic necessities such as a new fridge and mattress. The aesthetic we will be raising funds for. Kindly spread the word, we don't want to take up more of your time and be late with your 'meeting' with Dean Fraunk." You place a flyer on his desk as you turn on your heel. The rest of the sorority, mouth agape following suit. Yuzi looks down at the flyer, head hung in a mixture of disbelief and shame as he reads over the neon paper advertising a co-ed car wash. 

He just hopes you and Bakugou are worth the trouble. 

[mythicamagic]

In the Company of Wolves: Inukog oneshot

Summary: Every place feels like a temporary home for a Hanyou. Kouga offers Inuyasha a welcome respite within his wolf pack. Inukog oneshot

Written for @gaykagome​, who has been a lovely, encouraging commenter and fandom friend ^^ thank you for your support bud.

Rated T

7,000 words (you can also read this on ao3 via the same username)

In the Company of Wolves

Leaping through sprawling trees, thick white hair flew out behind a red figure. Inuyasha landed on a sturdy branch, legs bent, muscles coiling and springing free as he leapt forth again. He smirked, a fang hooking over his bottom lip.

"Nice try, but you ain't got a hope in hell."

The deer fleeing for its life beneath the branches had skittered to the left, racing through dense undergrowth. Perhaps it hoped to lose him, or maybe it was running scared. Either way, this would be over quick.

Stepping from branch to branch, long fingers flexed, claws catching on sunlight. Pushing off from a tree trunk, Inuyasha sprang down with every intent of landing atop his prey.

He fell within range, closing in- only for his foot to collide with a mass of thick black fur.

Inuyasha's eyes flew wide, crashing into the beast and hitting the floor in a tumble of limbs. The deer merrily pranced away out of sight.

Snarling and lifting his head, Inuyasha cradled his throbbing skull. "Damn it, what the-!"

A large bear-sized wolf staggered to its feet, rumbling a noise of complaint. Two cobalt blue eyes glared at him.

Inuyasha stopped, "Kouga?" he rose a bushy brow.

There was no mistaking that smell. He'd never seen the mangy wolf's true form before though. In all honesty, it was kind of surreal. Hell, the guy even looked a bit more dignified.

Kouga tilted his head, standing. As he shook himself, yellow, static powder fell from his fur like gold dust, swirling into a whirlwind of youki. In a matter of moments, Kouga's humanoid form stepped out, hands on his hips.

"Why'd you get in my way?! You lost me my meal!"

White triangular ears flicked and pressed back against his skull. Fuck taking that. Inuyasha stood, hands balled into fists.

"Your meal?! I've been tracking that deer for at least an hour! You weren't even in the picture, I didn't smell ya chasing it once!"

Kouga tilted his chin up, flashing a cheeky grin. "Tch, that's what happens when you track from downwind, Dog Breath," he muttered, ignoring the pissed off Hanyou and looking around. "How come you're out here huntin' anyway? Isn't Kagome with you? She always carries some goodies to chew on. Tastier than venison too."

Inuyasha glanced away moodily, crossing his arms. "Shaddap. Like it's any of your business."

Kouga hummed, scratching his jaw. Odd. There was no bite in his tone. Sniffing a little, Kouga picked up the faint scent of sadness clinging to the robe of the fire rat.

Inuyasha's face heated. He quickly bared his teeth, "quit with that! She's just busy, alright? Besides, I can still hunt for myself. Ain't you a little far from your territory to be hunting out here?"

Kouga blinked, mildly concerned despite their history together. "Uhh… where do you think you are, Dog Breath?"

Frowning, Inuyasha glanced around. Clearly no answers were forthcoming from the forest, so leaping up, he climbed a tree, digging claws into rough bark to hoist himself up. Minding the tallest branches aside, Inuyasha gaped as he surfaced from the sea of greenery. Sprawling, picturesque mountains met his startled gaze.

How far did I chase that deer?

And why'd it have to lead him to Kouga's turf, of all places?

Dropping down to solid ground again, Inuyasha avoided eye contact. "I just got caught up in running, that's all," he answered the silent question hanging in the air.

Kouga tilted his head slightly, "… right."

A rumbling sound rang out between them. Inuyasha grit his teeth, ignoring the impatient gurgling of his stomach and swiftly turning. "Whatever. See ya," he started walking.

"Hey-" Kouga called, causing him to nearly trip in surprise and frown over one shoulder.

The wolf winced, looking awkward and weirded out to even be asking. "We got leftovers. If you want some," the offer was casual. "Don't want you keeling over on the way back, Kagome would kill me."

Inuyasha stared. Maybe he'd hit his head or something because for some reason, the offer sounded like a tempting one.

"Keh," he grunted, pivoting on one heel and trudging towards Kouga's territory instead. "Better be good," he complained with no energy behind it.

"Its free food! Be more grateful to your host," the wolf snarked, jogging to keep pace with him.

---

Mutters echoed throughout the cave, causing white ears to twitch and swivel atop his head. Inuyasha ignored the curious wolves, digging into tough boar meat. Uncooked. Miroku and Kagome would've called it ghastly. His lips twitched at the thought, soon wiped away. Something squeezed his chest instead.

"Hey, blabber-mouths! Keep it down!" Kouga's booming voice caught his dazed attention.

Ginta and Hakkaku quickly shut up, apologising. The rest of the wolf pack fell quiet, though their eyes blazed with questions.

Inuyasha rose a brow and glanced at the Wolf Prince. Did he think the gossiping bothered him or something? Weird guy. He should know a Hanyou would be used to it.

Kouga's tail flicked as he strode through regular wolves, minding some beasts aside. He then threw himself down beside Inuyasha on some soft furs, stealing a rib. Not having the energy or inclination to snap at him for it, Inuyasha merely flashed his teeth, grunting and continuing to eat.

"So what brings you to us, Inuyasha?" Hakkaku asked bluntly. Ginta gasped and fretted, clearly having wanted to ask more delicately.

Inuyasha drew into himself slightly, noticing a hush fall over the atmosphere within the damp cave.

"Was just in the neighbourhood is all. If ya wanna blame someone for dragging me here, look no further than your precious leader," he snorted, sidestepping the question.

Kouga elbowed him and chuckled in a deep, rich baritone. Triangular ears flicked upon hearing it. "Aw c'mon! You practically tripped over yourself getting here you were so eager," glimmering blue eyes swung to his pack, giving a shit-eating grin. "He's just too proud to say 'thank you for the meal' because he lost his prey and is still being a sore loser about it~"

Inuyasha blinked, noticing his verbal diversion and change in topic. Kouga was... helping him?

Sure enough, the wolf demon gazed at him, brows raised in challenge, trying to encourage a rebuttal.

Relief touched Inuyasha's face for a moment, before snorting loudly and thrusting his nose up in the air, turning away. "Me? You're the one who got in my way, Mangy Wolf."

"Dog Breath!"

"Flea Bag!"

The wolves glanced back and forth between them, noticing the lack of malice in their nicknames. Their scents were calm, giving them away. A touch of humour and enjoyment radiated from them as they bickered.

"Alright, prove it-" Kouga suddenly threw out. "Hunt with us tomorrow. Then we'll see who's better at it," he jabbed a thumb at his chest. "Obviously, it'll be us wolves! I've provided for my pack as leader for tons of years and I'm faster than you."

Rolling golden eyes, Inuyasha picked up a stone, hollowed out cup of water, taking a sip. "Keh, wouldn't be the first time people have underestimated me. Won't be the last," easing slightly closer to get in Kouga's face, he bared sharp fangs in a feral grin. "I'll beat you just like I've beaten everyone else who figured a half-breed couldn't measure up to a full demon."

Kouga stared, a funny look crossing his face- both palms shooting up to wave slightly. "Huh? Nah, you've got me wrong," he grunted, straightening his spine. "I was just trash talkin' you as competition, not because you're a Hanyou. I honestly wasn't thinkin' of that," his voice trailed into a musing tone.

A stab of surprise and disorientation swung through Inuyasha. There was no time to recover, however, as the demon kept talking. "Though now that you mention it, you're probably used to hunting alone, right? We'd call you a Lone Wolf if you were one of our kind. My pack will win through sheer teamwork."

Inuyasha huffed. So clearly it was more like 1 vs 30 rather than a fair fight. Coward.

Ah well. Looking down at the bones he'd picked clean, he gave a rough shrug of his shoulders. Not like he had anything else to do. He could stick around a little longer.

"You're on."

----

Many hours after the sun had gone down, taking its vibrant colourful sky with it, the moon had opened up her blanket of stars. Inuyasha sat at the mouth of the wolf pack's cave, hands thrust inside his sleeves. Tetsusaiga rested against one shoulder.

The wolves had finished singing their melodies to their mother, the moon, so they'd settled down.

Golden eyes slid towards their sleeping forms. They'd packed themselves tight against one another to retain some heat. Only a few had broken off in pairs to cuddle by themselves. Ginta and Hakkaku were well and truly wrapped around one another, swathed in furs.

They all looked comfortable. Trusting, together. A family unit.

Inuyasha stared. The most annoying part about it was that he could never pinpoint exactly what he was feeling, looking at groups like this. It made him uncomfortable, a reminder that they had something he didn't. Maybe he had, for a time, but his friends had all split off to live their own lives. Shippo was growing up. Miroku and Sango had their own family now.

Kagome…

He wasn't needed anymore. Their quest had been over for a long time. He should be over it by now.

Staring at the pack was like looking into a store window in Kagome's time. Unseen glass forever separated him from what they possessed.

Kouga lifted his head from where he lay, noting a chill in the air. Inuyasha met his gaze, quickly turning to face the other way and pretending to look at sprawling scenery. A snort sounded out in the cave before sharp, static youki fanned into the breeze.

Transformed, Kouga stepped around his pack and lay down towards the entrance, blocking out the night's chilly breeze with his thick fur and large form.

Inuyasha glanced behind him with mild surprise.

Kouga was maybe, actually, kind of…

... a good leader.

---

It started at midday.

The pack immediately flooded the forest, racing through it like droves of rats. Inuyasha shared a look with Kouga, before smirking and starting to leap from tree to tree.

Hunting with wolves nearby started to look next to impossible, considering how eagerly they dove and ran through the undergrowth, loud and clumsy. However, the second they caught wind of a herd, they split off into different, smaller groups. Inuyasha watched them from his vantage point above.

Scouts ran on ahead. Kouga kept towards the back of his pack, signalling orders with mere grunts, growls or gestures of his hand. Inuyasha followed the scouts, dropping down to run alongside them. They were slightly younger demons, teenage boys and girls, lithe and built for running. They stared at him but gave tentative grins.

Inuyasha blinked and offered a slight smirk, soon powering on ahead and leaving them behind.

Sniffing out a herd of deer that the wolves intended to close in on, Inuyasha kept to his vantage point in the trees. He rounded one side of a large clearing, heart thundering.

It had been a long time since he'd hunted seriously. It took him back to old times. Kagome had spoiled him with ramen, and complacency softened his body. But now rusty instincts were awakening, shaking the dust away. His fangs ached. Demon senses kicked in, blood pumping. He could hear and smell everything, down to the blades of grass, fusty scent of deer and pungent odour of wolves.

As predicted, Kouga's scouts halted at the opposite side of the treeline. Lower-ranking wolves and wolf demons alike burst through into the meadow then, causing the herd to take off running.

Right towards Inuyasha.

Dumbasses. Didn't they figure they were leading them right to him?

Grinning, Inuyasha's clawed nails elongated slightly. Waiting as a few deer ran beneath his position- he suddenly lept. Free-falling and spreading both arms wide, he tackled a stag around the neck, yanking it down with him using his weight.

Grabbing it by the antlers the second he recovered, Inuyasha gave a quick jerk, snapping its neck cleanly.

Panting and grinning, he raised triumphant eyes-

Only to see Kouga bent over a felled deer not too far away. His mouth was bloodied. His prey lay dead on one side. It was obvious from the number of adults mid-way through their meal that they'd taken it down much quicker than Inuyasha. They'd had the same idea, flushing out prey and leaping upon them from the opposite direction. Somehow they'd evaded even his detection.

Younger wolves looped around, waiting pensively for their turn.

Kouga licked his lips, maintaining eye contact. Dark hair hung loose from its typical ponytail, claws stained crimson. Inuyasha's heart skittered. His breath halted.

The demon drew bloodied lips back over his fangs when a lower wolf sniffed too close to his food- a loud, powerful snarl thrumming through the clearing.

An answering rumble built in Inuyasha's throat, unbidden. Blazing, twisting heat hooked low in his stomach, cock twitching.

Golden eyes snapped wide, realising just what the fuck he was reacting to.

Kouga's feral expression softened back to normal, shooting him a surprised grin and happily digging into his meal, none the wiser.

Shaken, Inuyasha grimly started tucking into his own, busying himself with eating. He then offered some scraps to some salivating teens, ignoring the amused demons watching. He wasn't above dining with pups. Especially if it meant never confronting what had just happened.

---

"So you and Kagome broke up, huh?"

Inuyasha jolted, wondering how obvious he'd been about it. Frowning at Kouga, who seemed content to laze within the den after the hunt, he gave a long exhale. "Have been for a few months now."

"Gotcha."

"We're still friends though, so don't even think about sniffing after her again."

"I ain't about to, Dog Breath," Kouga flashed him a wolfish grin, slowly sobering, "you wanna talk about it? Only it seems to be eatin' at ya."

Running a hand through his hair and giving a dusty sigh, Inuyasha stared blankly at the forest down below. With no other wolves around, he felt somewhat better about talking so plainly.

"Nothin' much to talk about, she's with someone else now. Seems happy."

Kouga made a noise of affirmation, showing he was listening while picking at his teeth with a pinky.

"I've got a crappy track record with relationships."

"You've got a crappy track record with women, yeah."

Inuyasha whipped his head back to stare at Kouga, wondering what he meant by that. If he meant what Inuyasha thought he meant.

Kouga remained in a reclining position, meeting his gaze easily. The late afternoon sun touched his skin, giving it a warm glow, hooded eyes seeming to darken. "You ever think about trying to be with someone else, rather than pining after the same soul over and over?"

Inuyasha's lips thinned, cheeks heating.

"I dunno. I was with Kikyo and then after being sealed to the tree- I woke up and met Kagome like no time had passed," he grunted. This would usually be the part where he clamped up. He didn't like talking about something so vulnerable. Self-preservation had taught him not to divulge too much, even to friends like Kagome. Kouga could easily mock him. However…

Looking over, no sinister motivation seemed to compel the wolf. He was genuinely interested. Inuyasha's insides screamed at him as he reluctantly continued. "It was like… it made sense to be with her, but I barely had a chance to process losing Kikyo. Things just kinda happened," he shook his head slightly. "Startin' fresh? Sounds like a fairy tale."

Kouga chuckled deeply, causing Inuyasha's ears to twitch again. His stomach did a nervous flip, but there was no cruelty in that rich tone. "Kinda set in your ways, huh? You're like a human in that respect."

"Keh, well what about you? Been with anyone recently?" Inuyasha asked flatly. He wasn't fishing or anything.

Kouga stretched languidly, yawning and exposing sharp-pointed canines. Blunt claws flexed wide, before curling into his palms again. "Nothing permanent. My last 'relationship' was with a guy for a couple of weeks. Just casual stuff. Heh, bet that's unthinkable to you, right?"

Inuyasha bristled, cheeks reddening. He tossed his head and huffed in answer.

"Oi, I don't mean anything by it. I think it's great you're such a loyal pup and have soul-consuming relationships instead of flings. Still, it sounds kind of exhausting to me," the wolf shrugged.

"I thought 'wolves mated for life', you sure tried that line on Kagome."

"We do," Kouga muttered, looking at him, "but only after we find someone special. We got an expression, us wolves. It basically translates to 'my heart and liver.' You gotta find someone that really fits your needs, who you pursue like they're a missing organ inside you. Till we find our chosen one, we're free to pursue who we want."

Inuyasha snorted, "and Kagome was that person to you?" he drawled sarcastically.

Kouga shrugged, not catching it. His earnest, blunt disposition was somewhat refreshing, if Inuyasha were being honest. "I figured so. But after three years of thinking about it, I kinda dove headfirst into loving her without really knowing her. I pursued her so hard that I forgot to think about why I was even running."

Unbidden, a smile came to the Hanyou's mouth, a fang hooking over his lip. He chuckled, eyes warming. Something heavy lifted from his shoulders. "We're both dumbasses," he said, golden eyes dancing. It felt kind of good to not be alone in that. To know they both should've done better.

Kouga blinked, gaze roving over his face. Slowly, he gave an answering, amiable smile. "You get a snaggle-tooth when you grin," he pointed out teasingly. "It's cute."

"Don't think you can flirt with me just because we bonded for a second, wolf," Inuyasha rolled his eyes and forcefully snuffed out his grin.

"No I'm gonna," Kouga chuckled, tail thumping beside him.

Something dissuaded the Hanyou from hotly shutting this down. His heart sat a little lighter in his chest, shoulders relaxed. If the dumbass wanted to keep saying stupid shit, who was he to stop him?

----

After that day, Inuyasha resolved to stay- at least until he caught a kill quicker than the wolves during a hunt.

Kouga became somewhat more shameless and flirty. It started out subtle. Well, subtle for Kouga.

One time, Inuyasha had leisurely taken a sip of his drink, setting it down and not noticing the wolf sit beside him. Kouga then proceeded to pick it up.

He crooked his wrist as he lifted the cup so that his lips landed squarely over the same place Inuyasha's had just occupied. He'd performed the manoeuvre so quickly that Inuyasha wasn't sure at first of what he'd seen. But as Kouga drank, he glanced at him, and Inuyasha knew then that the move had been intentional.

There were other small, maddening things. Kouga's tail brushing against his hip in passing. How he always brought over a slab of meat from a fresh kill to Inuyasha first during evening meals. How he offered over and over to take a 'friendly' dip in the waterfall together.

Inuyasha rolled his eyes at the attention. It never strayed too far into 'Miroku' territory, but it also wasn't something to take it seriously. The other wolves by now had caught on and sometimes teased their leader. Kouga laughed it off yet continued undaunted. When he next offered Inuyasha a pot, the Hanyou blinked.

"Are those stingers?" he grunted.

Sure enough, bee stings dotted bronze skin. The idiot hadn't removed the stingers from his hand.

The wolf chuckled, gesturing to the covered pot. "Ya mentioned that honey goes well with meat, so I got some for you."

Staring and feeling weird again, Inuyasha heaved a sigh and grabbed Kouga by the wrist, tugging him to kneel beside him. "Hold still, idiot. Do your feet run away with your brain or somethin'? You have to take these out," he bent over his hand, clawed fingers grasping a stinger.

"I was just eager to get it back to y- OW!"

Huffing, the Hanyou continued in his task, ignoring the whimpering demon. Despite his gruffness however, he leaned Kouga's arm over his knee, one hand gripping the back of the wolf's to keep it steady. He could feel Kouga's sharp inhale close to his cheek.

Finally removing the last of the stingers, Inuyasha's dog demon side betrayed him. As natural as breathing; he'd bent his head and swiped a careful tongue over a red sore to soothe the wound unthinkingly. Human embarrassment kicked in then, and he dropped Kouga's wrist like a rock, lurching back and standing.

"There! Tend to your own damn hand now!"

A ripple of laughter washed over the pack as Inuyasha stormed away, leaving Kouga to stare at the spot of saliva on his hand like it were a dewy jewel.

---

When next hunting, Inuyasha set off on his own under cloudy skies. He didn't keep track of the mass of wolves flooding the forest. Closing his eyes and removing the robe of the fire-rat to leave him in his white underlayer, he sank into a crouch. Burying Tetsusaiga somewhere safe at the base of a tree, he exhaled. The hanyou then began the process of shedding.

Shedding didn't entail fur. Rather, for him, it meant shaking off the layers of bullshit that weighed on his mind. He even stopped thinking about himself as a person. His mind turned blank, running through the forest like an animal.

He hadn't hunted via pure instinct in so long. He forgot how to speak with a human tongue, letting out grunts and growls. Saliva pooled in his mouth. Unknowingly, golden eyes tinged red. Faint markings cut across his cheeks. Fangs and claws elongated, youki pounding through his system with every thunder of his heartbeat.

A hare darted out from the bushes- and Inuyasha lunged.

He was barely aware of Kouga looping closer until he jogged out from the trees. "Hey, mutt- no luck for us today. Think that last hunt scared the herd too far awa-"

The creature hunched over spun around, a mangled kill hanging limp from his mouth. It hit the ground with a sickening thud as long white hair bristled, puffing up. A deep, rumbling snarl deafened Kouga's ears.

Inuyasha gazed at him, unblinking, panting with ragged breaths.

Kouga stopped and stared. Unbidden, the wilder, fiercer side of his nature reared its head. Teeth and claws gleamed, interest piqued.

However, something was wrong.

Inuyasha gasped and grunted, bending low and whimpering with pain. His body began fighting with itself, his demon blood coursing too strong for his hanyou form to withstand.

Kouga didn't really know anything about hanyou kind. However, he knew enough about the situation to realise a particular sword was missing from Inuyasha's hip. Turning tail and hurrying away, it was a simple matter of tracking Inuyasha's scent all the way to the base of a tree.

The fog cleared from crimson eyes, and Inuyasha blinked, panting. He flexed his shaking hand around a muddied Tetsusaiga, the partial transformation leaving him worn and ragged.

Kouga was squatting next to him. Concern probably wasn't the right word for it, but he gazed at him seriously for a moment before standing.

"Don't do stupid stuff just to win bets, Mutt Face."

Coughing, Inuyasha slowly adjusted back into his old senses, gripping his sword so tight his knuckles bled white. "Yeah... fine, whatever... Mangey Wolf."

----

The 'incident' as Kouga called it was not an isolated one in terms of throwing him for a damn loop. After bathing at the waterfall in a nice, refreshing midday dip, Kouga noticed an absence immediately.

"Where's Inuyasha?"

Ginta looked up from polishing some armour.

"I'm not sure. He started getting fidgety and sniffed around- then he looked at the sky and took off without a word to anyone. I think he looked a bit pale."

Kouga frowned. In a few hours, it would get dark. Tracking him would be more difficult.

Wasting no time, Kouga lept from their den, sailing down the side of the rocky mountain face. His black hair and wolf tail flew up to flutter in the breeze. "Be back later!" he called, ignoring Ginta's confusion.

Bursting into a mini tornado of power, Kouga started running, lifting his nose to scent the air. Locating Inuyasha's unique smell, he sprinted into the gloom of the trees. It seemed the Hanyou hadn't wanted to be found. His scent zig-zagged everywhere, even travelling upriver, perhaps intending to lose anyone tracking him.

Kouga smirked. As if that would work on a full demon.

By the time dusk settled in, however, Kouga felt antsy. Still no sign of the mutt, and it was getting dark. Even his scent had become strange and diluted.

Stopping beneath the canopy of trees and frowning, Kouga shifted his attention to the waning light above. The moon was out, but faint.

Kouga's eyes widened slightly. A new moon.

Hearing a sigh and the crunch of weight shifting on dried leaves, Kouga turned, nose twitching.

A willow tree sat relatively still and serene, located near some stretch of water. Weeping, draping branches were parted by Kouga's rough palms. He peered into the shadows behind the sweeping curtain, finding a familiar face.

Inuyasha stood, eyes incredibly dark. Midnight locks of hair split down broad shoulders. He stood weary and watchful, gripping a useless Tetsusaiga.

"What are you doing here?" Inuyasha muttered.

Kouga gave a look, as though it should be obvious, stepping into his private space beneath the darkening tree. "I came here to find ya, obviously."

Dark eyes widened slightly at his blunt honesty. Sighing anew, Inuyasha rubbed at his forehead. "Dumbass. I'm guessing you forgot what night I transform despite seeing it yourself before?"

"Kinda," the wolf demon shrugged, resting both hands on his hips and walking around the tree, glancing at the fresh kill of a rabbit. "Glad ya fed yourself at least. C'mon, let's go back before we lose any more light. Unless of course you wanna stumble around in the dark, forcing me to hold your hand?" he teased.

Inuyasha gazed back soberly, causing the mirth to leave Kouga's eyes. Both fell quiet.

As a human, Inuyasha lost many things. Animal ears, a keen sense of smell, golden irises that gleamed like a treasure trove. He also lost a certain harshness. The thick wall of defence usually built up around his heart had crumbled.

Like this, Inuyasha looked much softer. In more ways than one.

"I don't want to go back looking like this," Inuyasha muttered. "And neither do you."

"What're you yappin' about?"

Bushy brows pulled down, and he backed up slightly. "Listen, you've had your fun little charity experience including a Hanyou in your shit, but I know how full demon society works. I'm not stupid. You're all fine with me hanging around as some little project to measure yourselves against, but when it comes down to it, you don't want to confront this part."

Kouga's heavy brows pulled down, a sneer marring his lips. "Ah, I get it. Ya think my pack will mock you because it's your human night? You're a fucking idiot," he sighed. "I was in love with Kagome. Ya think anyone's gonna say shit? Admit it, you just feel vulnerable because you got baby skin and no fangs."

Inuyasha's expression flickered; an open book. His hands balled into fists, stubbornness setting his mouth into a thin, grim line.

Kouga gave an exaggerated sigh, grabbing his arm, "quit bein' stubborn-"

Yanking himself free, Inuyasha gave a poor imitation of a snarl, exposing blunt teeth. "Get lost!"

Growling, Kouga blurred in the air- appearing behind him and grabbing the failing human around the waist- lifting so that his kicking feet left the ground. "We're going back, it's cold out! Your baby skinned, barely furred ass will catch a cold, and I ain't dealing with that!" he started walking.

With a yowl of outrage, Inuyasha swung his elbow back into Kouga's face. With a grunt, he was released, only for the two to snarl and grapple once again. Heels dug into mud- foreheads smacked, palms clasped and muscles strained on Inuyasha's end to match the power of a demon, failing. Kouga licked at his bleeding nose, before giving a hard shove. Landing on forest ground and losing themselves in senseless scrapping, sharp teeth closed around a curved ear.

Inuyasha yelped, dark eyes flying wide. Did he just?-

He had! Kouga had reprimanded him like a damn pack member.

Sensation burst within his chest, boiling over, consuming. He didn't know how to react to it. Therefore, Inuyasha didn't stop to think about his actions. When drowning in feeling, his mind turned blank, and he acted on impulse.

Curling coarse fingers in dark hair and latching tight- he yanked Kouga down by the back of the neck- mouths colliding.

Teeth knocked. Lips strained against hard pressure. Inuyasha's grip tugged Kouga's hair tight against his scalp. It was painful. It was uncomfortable. It was brilliant.

The wolf demon reeled, inhaling hard through his nostrils. His senses flooded with Inuyasha's human scent.

There was a reason Kagome's slap had cemented her into Kouga's head as a potential mate. He wasn't used to being opposed. Everyone listened to him, and he talked freely. But a push back, a stubborn, fierce 'no!' made his world tilt on its axis. It was exactly what he needed. Someone to raise their voice and get his attention. An opposing view to clash with his own. That was what leaders primarily looked for in partners, not meek obedient types.

And Kouga couldn't say he personally disliked it either.

Releasing him, Inuyasha panted. His face suddenly paled, realisation dawning. "Shit," he muttered, drawing back and falling silent.

Kouga opened his mouth, then closed it. There were no words he could scramble together in his currently fried brain. What he did know- was that the weather still felt chilly, and Inuyasha needed a place to sleep. He kind of felt the desire to prod for more, but judging by Inuyasha's closed off, guarded look, that wouldn't be happening anytime soon.

They picked themselves up, standing. Inuyasha wiped some mud from his ashen cheek.

"You won't come back to the pack tonight, right?" Kouga asked.

Mild relief seemed to touch his features as he nodded glumly.

"Gotcha, well, don't kick up a fuss. I'll take ya somewhere else for the night," the wolf demon stepped away, youki swirling around his form, tumbling faster into a fierce gust. Inuyasha watched as a 10ft tall dark-furred wolf eventually lept out of the whirlwind. Kouga then knelt down as best he could, jerking his head to indicate Inuyasha climb on.

"You've got to be kiddin' me?" he grumbled. It didn't take much prompting for him to give in, burned out from nerves and high tension. The new moon always messed everything up.

Grasping onto thick, feathery fur, Inuyasha climbed onto his back, sitting behind Kouga's shoulder blades. The wolf demon flashed him a toothy smile, pushing off starting to run.

Gaping and swaying from the momentum, Inuyasha ducked down and gripped his hackles. Kouga talked a lot of shit, but he got one thing right; he was fucking fast.

Muscles coiled and shifted, prowling through dense undergrowth with quick footfalls. Kouga panted softly, paws thundering over chilled forest floor, scattering leaves.

Inuyasha ducked to avoid a few low-hanging branches, feeling the wolf's sturdiness and warm form beneath him. Despite being in human form with his dulled, dim senses, the silence of the forest combined with Kouga's rhythmic noises made him feel strangely wild yet lulled. He was a creature again, not a man nor demon. It comforted him.

Kouga's breath fanned out in visible puffs of curling smoke by the time they reached an abandoned cave beneath a slightly upturned tree- it's hanging, frozen roots slightly obscuring the entrance. Snowdrops littered the ground- crunching under Inuyasha's feet as he dismounted and quietly entered.

More snowdrops awaited him inside the mouth of the cave, and he sank down exhaustedly into the flowers, cheek cushioned by soft petals.

Kouga huffed, staring down at Inuyasha's near motionless body. Shifting, he settled beside him, acting as a shield against the elements.

Inuyasha's feet were turning blue. Knowing he'd probably be insecure about holding onto him in inhuman form, the wolf shifted closer, bumping against his side.

Making a tired noise, a dark brown eye cracked open. With a sigh- Inuyasha's coarse hands met Kouga's fur, settling closer into the mass of warmth. "This means nothing," came his muffled voice.

Resting his head upon enormous paws, Kouga ignored this, tail thumping slightly behind him.

"Thanks for... coming to get me."

At that, Kouga stiffened with surprise, lifting his head to look at him.

Inuyasha's breaths evened out, and in the quiet hush that followed, it was difficult not to notice how his dark hair seemed to mesh and meld so naturally into the wolf demon's own black fur.

In the morning it would be harder still not to stare at sprawling wisps of long white hair blending into the snowdrops.

Kouga's blue eyes blinked, nose twitching. It was then he realised he was probably in danger of something much larger than either of them could've expected.

----

Predictably, Inuyasha acted as though nothing had happened.

He stuck around the wolves for a few days longer, before finally approaching Kouga, arms thrust inside trailing sleeves.

"So… gonna be headin' out soon."

Kouga continued sharpening his knife. He then stood, rolling one shoulder and keeping his tone casual.

"For good?"

"Yeah," Inuyasha muttered, face guarded. "No point in sticking around here any longer than I need to. Keh, I ain't in the habit of getting in people's way."

Kouga heaved a sigh, putting the knife away and folding his arms, walking from the cave and out into bright sunlight. Rounding one side of the mountain and following a rocky trail, his tail swished with agitation. "You ain't in the way, Dog Breath. I made that pretty clear. You wanna talk about the kiss or not?"

Inuyasha made a noise behind him. He then scrambled for something to say, "we don't gotta talk about it! Weird shit happens when I turn human! Stuff I wouldn't usually do-"

Kouga cut him off with a dramatically loud groan, turning on his heel to face him. Inuyasha jumped, feet skidding to bring him to a stop- rocking forward with momentum and ending up nose to nose with the wolf.

Cobalt blue eyes remained flat, "dunno how Kagome put up with your damn wishy-washy ass. I ain't about to listen to that crap when my nose can sniff out lies unlike her. Since you're so bad at this, I guess I'll be the mature one; and that's how ya know you're being an idiot, stupid mutt."

Inuyasha blinked, opening his mouth with an irate expression.

"I want ya to stay," Kouga said bluntly. "The kiss didn't bother me. In fact, I kinda liked it and I'm open to doing more of that stuff, weird as it sounds saying it out loud. I was into it," he shrugged broad shoulders. "But if you're too busy getting yourself worked up about feeling like an outsider, that's up to you. As pack leader, I'm telling you you've got a place here, dumbass. You can quit being a lone wolf if you want to. My group won't mind."

Inuyasha stared at him, completely stunned. He put a little distance between them, ears pressing flat.

His expression rapidly changed with a multitude of conflicting thoughts. He opened and closed his mouth, eyes flickering to the scenery, to the rocks, to their bare feet. Heavy brows drew down.

Kouga sighed and scratched his pointed ear, figuring he'd be stubborn about it. Not like he could force him to stay. But still… an odd sense of disappointment weighed in his chest. He'd had fun. He'd had a lot of fun with him around.

"I don't do casual," came Inuyasha's reluctant reply.

Kouga's brows rose. Oh. That's what he'd been having reservations about?

"Fuck- I'm bad at this," the hanyou gazed stubbornly at the horizon, cheeks heating. Hands curled into fists at his side.

Blinking, Kouga let out a rasping chuckle, shoulders shaking. It immediately won him Inuyasha's attention. "You really are," he agreed, tone turning into a teasing one. "I didn't know you were that into me."

Growling and bristling, Inuyasha seemed to assume he was laughing at him, so Kouga held up a hand. He then used it to grab hold of the robe of the fire rat, bridging the distance between them.

Inuyasha's breath rushed out of his nose, exhaling sharply. He froze, becoming completely still. Kouga's mouth remained against his in a firm kiss, before shifting into a yielding one, eventually drawing away.

Kouga grinned, "if you wanna get stuck with me, then I'm totally capable of being serious too."

Inuyasha slowly relaxed. He snorted, lips quirking as golden eyes warmed. "Dumbass," he mumbled, tugging him back in again. This time Kouga's ensuing chuckle came out muffled against his lips.

"Heh, you really do have dog breath."

"Do I gotta keep shutting you up?"

Kouga lifted a shoulder, flashing him a wolfish grin, tail thwacking his thigh. "If that's the method you're going with to do it, I guess so."

Inuyasha's gaze flattened, feeling large hands slide around him to rest on his shoulder blades. Oddly comforting. The warmth of a wolf was a strange, foreign thing, but one he could get used to. Kouga had a strong scent. He could feel it saturating his clothes. The robe of the fire-rat would reek for weeks.

And that was okay too.

Their noses bumped, and they huffed with amusement, teeth nipping. They'd be clumsy for a while, but sticking around suddenly didn't sound so heavy. Inuyasha resolved to stay for a few more weeks.

And then maybe he'd linger for a little while after that too.

---

The wolves always howled in their true forms, conveying their love, heartbreak, hunger, stories and other things into their haunting songs. They were beautiful, powerful, twisting, waxing poetic about nothing and everything.

Inuyasha stepped out onto the summit of their mountain that they gathered upon. When he threw back his head and howled suddenly, it startled the others out of their songs.

His voice strained, held back by untrained vocal cords. It wasn't wild enough and held no finesse, too tempered by humanity. Imperfect.

Kouga beamed upon hearing it. He then transformed, black silky fur receding.

Throwing his head back, he let out a loud howl, hair dancing in the breeze. Inuyasha finished and looked at him breathlessly, heart drumming loudly. His throat hurt, cheeks stinging from the cold bite in the air. It felt fucking fantastic.

The rest of the wolf pack demons followed suit, transforming into their mockery of human appearances. Their inhuman forms joined in, baying with hoarse, powerful voices.

If someone had happened upon the pack that night, they'd have found the wolves packed in close, huddling for warmth in their cave. And at the very centre of the pack would be one hanyou, nestled amongst their slumbering, monstrous forms, nose buried into windswept fur, heart in sync with theirs.

---

It would be a few weeks later when Inuyasha would return to Kaede's village. It had been two months since he'd left.

Kouga jogged around him on the trail, sniffing the air and chattering animatedly. He loved travelling. Inuyasha grunted a few replies but was content to listen to him. It kept his mind off inevitably seeing a certain someone again.

That person seemed to spot them almost immediately as they approached the village.

Kagome came rushing over, causing Kouga to grin and call a greeting- his words going completely ignored as the miko drew back her hand.

Inuyasha blinked at the ensuing slap. His cheek stung like hell.

Salt peppered the air then, causing guilt to sink heavy into his gut.

"H-how dare you!" Kagome's watery eyes blazed. "You disappear for months- without a word to anyone?!- and then just swan back here like nothing happened? I searched for you! Do you have any idea how WORRIED I was? You jerk! You're such an absolute JERK!"

Inuyasha slowly stepped closer and brought her into a hug just as she burst into tears.

Kagome thumped her fists weakly against his chest, shuddering and prattling nonsense.

"I just… needed to get away," Inuyasha muttered, ears pressed back tight to his skull. "Didn't feel right being here."

Letting out a rush of hot air, Kagome drew back slightly to look at him. "N-nothing had to change. I told you that," she hiccuped. "Just because I'm in a relationship with someone else- it doesn't affect us. We're still friends. Your place is here. Miroku, Sango and Shippo were worried too."

"They were?"

They'd seemed so busy with their own lives before. Too busy to hang out with him- or maybe he'd been alone in thinking that? Had he put distance between them unknowingly because they'd all changed but he'd stayed the same?

"Idiot," Kagome and Kouga sighed together.

Noticing their wolf companion, Kagome wiped her tears and turned to Kouga. She gave him a much gentler reception, hugging him tight with gratitude.

"So he was with you the whole time? Thank you for looking out for him, Kouga."

"Heh, no worries. It's actually been pretty fun."

Kagome pulled back and rose a brow, glancing between them. "Really? You two haven't been fighting?"

"Sometimes," Inuyasha scratched his nose, combing some claws through his hair. "That hasn't been so bad either, though."

Completely lost, Kagome tilted her head. She then located a hickey on Inuyasha's neck, the skin bruised and red. She reddened herself, meeting Inuyasha's awkward gaze.

"Oh," she put the pieces together slowly. "So… are you just visiting?" she asked quietly.

Inuyasha nodded slowly. "Yeah. I got…" he took a breath, words faltering. He then continued, voice full of conviction. "I got a place to return to now. The wolves ain't a bad bunch to stay with now that my nose has adjusted to their damn smell."

"Hey-" Kouga scoffed.

"I'll keep coming back here though," he continued. "I'm just-"

"It's okay," Kagome soothed. "That makes me really happy to hear. Sometimes new things are good. Different, but good."

It was the same thing she'd said when trying to talk to him about her new relationship. Inuyasha nodded slightly, rendered mute by the heaviness of her words. Change was inevitable. It had freaked him out enough to run from the only real family he'd ever known.

Sadness flitted through her gaze before acceptance gentled matured features. Ageing had changed her too. That was partly why they'd broken up as quickly as they had. They were too different now than how they'd been at 15, swept up in a whirlwind teen romance. There was a sadness in never being able to return to their glory days, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing to move on.

Kagome scrubbed at her eyes and smiled for him. She always smiled when he needed it most. Grabbing both of their coarse hands, she tugged. "C'mon, everyone will be wanting to catch up. There's also some ramen I saved with your name on it."

Inuyasha's slack fingers twitched in her hold. He then adjusted them, squeezing her hand. Something brazen, fragile and guarded in his heart soothed and healed. His shoulders relaxed. Finally, he felt a sense of peace sweep over him that he hadn't experienced for some time; ever since they'd been flung out of orbit from their romance and back into friendship.

Meeting Kouga's amiable, enthusiastic gaze, Inuyasha bit back a snort. Golden eyes danced, lips twitching- before tilting up. A fang hooked over his bottom lip, snaggle-tooth peering out.

---

End

[blackrosesociety-vampyres]

WHAT WE ARE ABOUT – An Introductory Overview

You may have found us and equally found yourself at a loss to understand what exactly Black Rose Society is, what we are about, and where you might stand within all this. The purpose of the following texts is to give you a brief introductory overview of the central topics and avenues of exploration Black Rose Society focuses on. This way, we aim to provide you with a good idea of what you can expect to find in our community.

WHAT WE ARE

Black Rose Society is – first and foremost – a community of Vampyres, dedicated to Vampyre Identity and Vampyre Culture.

Black Rose Society is a place for serious exploration. We do not claim to possess all the answers, and we certainly do not speak for all vampire-identified people everywhere. Rather, we do our best to provide our membership with a conducive atmosphere to explore an extensive range of topics from within the perspective of Vampyre Identity and Vampyre Culture. We discuss how various groups of vampire-identified people arrive at expressing their varied experiences through self-identification with the vampire as a distinct category of person or archetype. We discuss how various groups of vampire-identified people have originated and shaped an authentic alternative subculture in the form of modern Vampyre Culture. We discuss the relationship between Vampyre Identity and Vampyre Culture – how one inspires the other, and how we in turn may be inspired as Vampyres.

Black Rose Society is also a social place of meeting. We provide our membership with a safe haven to gather, to mingle, to exchange news and information, to enjoy hospitality, to befriend, to learn on a basis of personal knowing. In this, Black Rose Society is explicitly open to all interested parties who might be sympathetic to us, both Vampyres and Black Swans, whether they seek closer affiliation with our sponsor in House Sauromatos or not, and indeed, whether they are familiar with the customs of Vampyre Society or still seek to learn more.

Lastly, we are about the celebration of being different, and we welcome all to have a good time in our spaces, as long as it is within the boundaries of our rules, guidelines and policies.

WHAT WE ARE NOT

Black Rose Society is decidedly not…

A roleplaying community Black Rose Society is a community of ‘Real Living Vampires’. This is not a game for us. While role players are indeed welcome to join Black Rose Society, we generally do not allow actual roleplaying in our regular community spaces. A dating community Approaching our community or any of our members with the sole intention of seeking a sexual or romantic relationship of any kind is firmly discouraged. Making another member feel unsafe or uncomfortable due to unwanted sexual advances or unwanted sexual comments may be considered harassment, and we will remove any offender from our community as soon as we become aware of any inappropriate behaviour. A provider of professional medical or legal advice Any information offered through Black Rose Society is considered to be for informational or educational purposes only, and is not intended as a substitute for, nor does it replace, professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Similarly, any information offered through Black Rose Society should not be in any way construed as professional legal advice on any subject matter. Should you decide to act or refrain from acting on the basis of any information offered through Black Rose Society, you do so at your own risk.

WHETHER WE ARE THE RIGHT COMMUNITY FOR YOU

Our community may not be the right fit for you, or it may indeed be the place you gladly call a haven.

You may have found the right place if you are at least one of the following:

– A Vampyre, someone who self-identifies as a Vampyre, or as Vampyric, or in any way identifies with the vampire as a category of person or archetype. – A Black Swan, someone who is a trusted friend to Vampyres and fully participates in the community, but does not or is not ready to identify as a Vampyre or Vampyric. – A Seeker, someone seriously questioning whether they are Vampyric, or whether they want to participate in Vampyre Culture in general. – Someone involved in consensual human blood-drinking between risk-aware adults, either as an active participant, blood drinker or blood donor, or as a close friend or family member of one, wishing to be supportive of them. – Someone engaging in advanced energy work, or Energy Vampirism, within the boundaries of Vampyre Identity and Vampyre Culture. – Someone pursuing Vampirism from the perspective of the Occult, open and sympathetic to Vampyre Identity and Vampyre Culture. – Someone with a genuine and enduring interest in all things ‘Vampire’, open and sympathetic to Vampyre Identity and Vampyre Culture.

We especially want to welcome you if you are at least one of the above and also:

– Someone passionate about furthering Vampyre Identity and Vampyre Culture, and ready to make meaningful contributions. – Someone intrigued by the aesthetic and mystique of Vampyre Culture, who wishes to actively explore its lifestyle aspects. – Someone with good questions.

You may want to look elsewhere if you are one of the following:

– A journalist or media worker seeking interviews. – Lacking the necessary maturity to deal with our topics. – Solely interested in hooking up. – Just curious for no particular reason. – Seeking to become a vampire in the hopes of gaining supernatural powers, lasting youth, increased lifespan, or things similarly fantastic. – Unwilling or unable to respect Vampyre Identity and Vampyre Culture, for whatever reason. – Unwilling or unable to comply with Black Rose Society’s rules, guidelines and policies, for whatever reason. – Scared of reading.

If you are unsure, you are most welcome to talk to our members on our Discord Community Server and have your questions answered in our #support channel or have a friendly chat in our #lobby, both of which are open to non-members.

BLACK ROSE SOCIETY ON VAMPYRE IDENTITY – There are no vampires in the Vampire Community

We begin with the Vampire Mythos. Vampyre Identity and Vampyre Culture are inevitably tied to the Vampire Mythos. We, Vampyres, are a people of the Vampire Mythos, in that our self-identification and our cultural self-expression as Vampyres will in some capacity reference the figure of the vampire from popular culture.

A vampire in the most common understanding of the word appears as a creature which drains the life (often in the form of blood) of humans to sate their own needs, enrich or prolong their own existence.

Vampyres do not believe that they are literal vampires as they appear in popular fiction or folklore. While some Vampyres might believe there to be some hidden truth to vampire stories, namely historical ‘Living Vampires’ who have passed into myth, Vampyres generally do not make any fantastic claims of possessing qualities commonly associated with the vampires of popular fiction or folklore. Vampyres are perfectly able to distinguish fact from fiction.

Indeed, the reality of Vampyres as a modern cultural phenomenon is a fact that is beyond any doubt. Since at least the latter half of the last century there are people like us – people who name themselves Vampyres for a wide variety of reasons.

What is commonly known as the ‘Vampire Community’ is in fact not a unified community but a collection of networks, groups and individuals who are associated with each other by virtue of their shared self-identification with the vampire as a category of person or as an archetype.

For our own purposes, we define Vampyres as individuals who are part of the Vampyre Subculture, or Vampyre Culture, and who identify as ‘Real Living Vampires’ specifically.

Note that we are observing the anachronistic spelling with a ‘y’ when referring to our kind, emphasizing and affirming our belonging to Vampyre Culture, with the benefit of helping to distinguish our kind from the vampires of fiction and folklore, spelt with an ‘i’ in the conventional way. (While not all vampire-identified people participate in Vampyre Culture, many are familiar with or adopt certain cultural ideas, customs, symbols and terminologies of Vampyre Culture.)

THEORIES ON VAMPYRE IDENTITY

Both outside of as well as within the ‘Vampire Community’ one will likely encounter arguments that Vampyrism may be a health condition or disorder, a sexual fetish, an escape fantasy, or a religious belief. We believe that Vampyrism understood as the phenomenon of modern ‘Real Living Vampires’ is severely misrepresented by completely reducing the whole diversity of Vampyre Identity to any one of the aforementioned explanations or rationalizations.

Despite unfortunately sounding like one, Vampyrism – as we understand it – is NOT a medical condition or psychological syndrome in the sense that Vampyrism cannot be sufficiently represented by completely reducing it as such, although attempts have been made to link certain facets of Vampyrism to various physical or psychological conditions, suggesting that there may be an empirical condition underlying some cases of Vampyrism.

Likewise, Vampyrism – as we understand it – is NOT a sexual fetish in the sense that Vampyrism cannot be sufficiently represented by completely reducing it as such, although there can be sensual, erotic aspects to Vampyrism, and individuals may experience excitement or receive gratification from or during certain Vampyric acts or complement their practice of Vampyrism with participation in fetish, kink or BDSM activities.

Further, Vampyrism – as we understand it – is NOT an escape fantasy, in the sense that Vampyrism cannot be sufficiently represented by completely reducing it as such, although Vampyrism has been proposed to be a reaction to trauma, abuse or feelings of isolation, and some individuals who regard themselves as outsiders or outcasts might be attracted to Vampyre groups, which in some cases can take on the role of surrogate pseudo-families.

Lastly, Vampyrism – as we understand it – is NOT a cult, religion, religious belief or religious practice in the sense that Vampyrism cannot be sufficiently represented by completely reducing it as such, although Vampyrism can have religious or spiritual facets, which can be studied in the context of alternative spirituality or new religious movements.

In Black Rose Society we prefer to regard the phenomenon of modern ‘Real Living Vampires’, or Vampyrism, to be primarily a matter of identity – personal, social and cultural. Approaching Vampyrism this way – as a social phenomenon and culture – allows us to appreciate a wider range of complexity and diversity of perspectives found within the different strata and subsects of Vampyric communities without confining us to a too narrow definition of the nature of Vampyrism, or – more precisely – of Vampyre Identity.

What makes one a Vampyre is – to the best of our understanding – ultimately tied to the very individual reasoning leading one to name oneself a Vampyre, to adopt the Vampyre Identity, and to participate in Vampyre Culture. Put more simply, a Vampyre is potentially anyone who chooses to name oneself a Vampyre for one reason or another. The individual reasons for why a person might identify as, or express themselves as a Vampyre, or as being Vampyric, are many and varied.

VARIETIES OF VAMPYRE IDENTITY

In Black Rose Society, you will encounter very different and sometimes seemingly conflicting perspectives being discussed – why one Vampyre might drink human blood, why one Vampyre might feed on human life-forces or subtle energies, why one Vampyre might do both or neither, ranging the more traditionalist to the more modernist, from the more materialist to the more spiritualist – as well as be offered some insights into the cultural development of the presented ideas and perspectives.

Black Rose Society is a community dedicated to the whole complexity and diversity of Vampyre Identity, and Vampyre Culture. In principle, Black Rose Society does not discriminate against and welcomes any individual expression of Vampyre Identity, so long as it does not conflict with Black Rose Society’s rules, guidelines and policies.

‘Real Vampires’

Some Vampyres practice consensual human blood-drinking between adults. Also known as ‘Sanguine Vampires’ or ‘Sanguinarians’, they often, but not always, claim to have an affinity or need to feed on human blood and that this practice is of some benefit to their physical, emotional or spiritual well-being, or that they experience some other form of relief due to this practice. Please note: In Vampye Culture the practice of consensual human blood-drinking often, but not always, happens within the bounds of a committed intimate relationship, but always strictly consensually between risk-aware adults. Black Rose Society explicitly distances itself from any acts of blood-drinking or bloodletting that involve and/or in any way abuse unconsenting persons, minors or animals.

Some Vampyres who are better known as ‘Psychic Vampires’, ‘Energy Vampires’, ‘Psi Vampires’, or ‘Pranic Vampires’ believe they have an affinity or need to feed on subtle life-forces which they believe they are able to draw or gather from another person or a group of persons by means of their innate nature or learned abilities. Similarly, they claim that this practice is of some benefit to their physical, emotional or spiritual well-being, or that they experience some other form of relief due to this practice.

‘Sanguine Vampires’ along with ‘Psychic Vampires’ are often categorized as ‘Real Vampires’.

‘Living Vampires’

Other Vampyres embody the archetype of the vampire by expressing it through facets such as Lifestyle, Aesthetics, Philosophy or the Occult, often, but not always, complementing the practices previously mentioned.

These individuals are known by many different terms and distinctions, but are sometimes categorized as ‘Living Vampires’.

‘Real Living Vampires’ or Vampyres

Be advised that any such categories are not necessarily mutually exclusive. Vampyres who – by virtue of their individual identity – may find themselves in both categories, and would be considered ‘Real Vampires’ as well as ‘Living Vampires’, we call ‘Real Living Vampires’, or just Vampyres.

Black Rose Society Vampyres are Sanguines and ‘Real Living Vampires’ in the majority – but we welcome all vampire-identified people and all those who may be sympathetic to Vampyre Identity and Vampyre Culture, provided they comply with our rules, guidelines and policies.

BLACK ROSE SOCIETY ON VAMPYRE CULTURE – What it means to be a Vampyre

Vampyre Culture, also called the Vampyre Lifestyle or the Vampyre Subculture, is an alternative subculture, meaning it exists as an alternative to – and apart from, yet within – larger society. Vampyre Culture in its current modern form originated with and is influenced by other alternative subcultures, alternative lifestyles or alternative spiritualities, and is often more closely associated with the Gothic Subculture, as well as with elements of BDSM, Paganism or Satanism respectively.

Although not all vampire-identified groups and not all vampire-identified individuals necessarily consider themselves part of Vampyre Culture, many groups of Vampyres or individual Vampyres follow their own authentic expression of Vampyre Culture. Vampyre Culture is often that which connects the various communities of vampire-identified people.

Vampyre Culture has its own complex heritage, with its own traditions and authentic lines of transmission. Prior to the advent of the internet, communities of Vampyres and groups of the Vampyric Heritage were – compared to today’s standards – relatively isolated from each other. This resulted in several more or less distinct traditions of vampire-identified people arriving to exist side by side in the current modern ‘Vampire Community’ with the turn of the century, each possessing an authentic history, each having an equally legitimate claim to what it means to be a ‘Vampire’, sometimes complementing each other, sometimes contradicting each other. Today there are multitudes of different Vampyre Houses, Covens and Clan-Families preserving, refining and transmitting their own piece of the Vampyric Heritage. Black Rose Society itself was founded as a Protectorate-Partner and functions as an Outer Court for House Sauromatos, a traditional Vampyric Household based in Germany.

MAKINGS OF VAMPYRE CULTURE

In Black Rose Society we are dedicated to the study and the discussion of Vampyre Culture from within the perspective of active participation in Vampyre Culture. We see Vampyre Culture expressed in our own ideas of social organization, in customs, in codes of behaviour, in etiquette, in philosophy, in spirituality, in our symbols, language and terminologies, as well as – to a limited degree – in our aesthetics, style, fashion, music, art, etc.

What makes up Vampyre Culture, and what Vampyre Culture means for us as Vampyres are among the most important questions Black Rose Society is exploring. According to our patron and sponsor in House Sauromatos there are certain traditions, fundamental ideas and concepts that one might consider to be essential to Vampyre Culture – its character, its values as well as its aesthetics and mystique: Feeding, Naming, Speaking the Language, Wearing Black, Secrecy, Education and Family

Feeding

For most outsiders and indeed for many Vampyres their interest in Vampyre Society begins and ends with Feeding. Although our words for and our ideas surrounding the practice of Vampyric Feeding may certainly differ, Vampyres as a category of person are nearly universally defined by the fact that we engage in certain Vampyric acts, or Vampyric behaviour, generally understood as a Vampyric person actively feeding on another person’s life-forces, often in the form of blood. The varied practices of consensual human blood-drinking between risk-aware adults, or the arts of feeding on life by certain subtle means are the most commonly expressed forms of practised Vampyrism. This is what we call Feeding. Our ideas of what it is Vampyres feed on, how and when Vampyres feed, why Vampyres feed, if there is a need for Vampyres to feed, of which nature this need might be and what it means for us as Vampyres will differ from place to place, group to group, individual to individual. Regardless of the variety of ideas present and expressed in Vampyre Culture, the concept and practice of Vampyric Feeding is central to Vampyre Culture anywhere. This is part of Vampyre Culture.

Naming

Names have power. At the beginning of one’s journey, one often chooses a dedicated name to be used for any coming interactions within Vampyre Society. Taking on a new name – a Vampyre name – can be considered an individual rite of passage in Vampyre Culture. It signifies a dedication or desire to be known and recognized by that name as a part of Vampyre Society. A Vampyre’s chosen name is often highly meaningful and should reflect one’s personal identity and journey as a Vampyre. Therefore, care should be taken when choosing a name for oneself. Under certain circumstances, a Vampyre may accept a name chosen by one’s mentor or a person of similar standing. It is commonly permissible to change one’s chosen name when one has outgrown it. For some, taking on a new name can mean the freedom of leaving the past behind to begin anew, discovering or re-inventing yourself, to seek out new experiences, to forge new bonds, to choose a new family. Indeed, when joining a traditional group of Vampyres, one might, in addition, take on the name of the House, Clan, Coven or Family in question, or a name honouring one’s mentor, signifying individual belonging and lineage. Among traditional groups, one’s naming is often accompanied by certain rites and ceremonies. While naming customs may differ from place to place, a Vampyre’s chosen name is generally an important expression of one’s Identity as a Vampyre. This is part of Vampyre Culture.

Speaking the Language

Belonging to Vampyre Culture is distinctly marked by the correct usage of specialized terminologies. While a complete Vampyric language never reached widespread use in Vampyre Culture, its specialized terminologies are similar to an argot, or cant, a type of secret language which can be employed to protect a group’s spoken or written communication from outsiders, establishing a subculture existing separate but within a larger society. To learn this secret language present in Vampyre Culture one would commonly access and study word lists, or learn directly from other Vampyres within an established group. This is part of Vampyre Culture.

Wearing Black

Subtle and elegant, black is the preferred colour of Vampyres according to tradition and suitable for any social occasion or function of Vampyre Society. To complement a classic black attire, silver jewellery is often preferred by Vampyres, as is the wearing of certain signets and symbols associated with Vampyre Culture. Traditional groups are known to recommend stricter dress codes depending on various factors – yet, the colour black enjoys almost universal acceptance in Vampyre Culture anywhere. This is part of Vampyre Culture.

Secrecy

Secrecy and confidentiality are paramount for Vampyres. From the earliest beginnings of what would become Vampyre Culture, our communities have relied on secrecy and mutual discretion. It comes with the territory, the deviant nature of our interests and activities, which are largely – and perhaps rightfully – considered to be taboo in larger society. Originating in traditional codes of silence, the importance of secrecy is near-universally recognized in Vampyre Culture, and it often is among the first lessons to someone introduced to Vampyre Society. Vampyres must ever take care not to disclose any information that could be in any way construed to threaten other Vampyres, their families, their friends, or themselves. The same applies to our trusted Black Swans, who know of us and keep our secrets. Do not seek the attention of the mundane. Especially avoid the sensationalist media like the plague. Do not misrepresent yourself as speaking for all Vampyres, or for any Vampyre groups you are not sanctioned to represent. When possible, entrust any outside public relations to those with more experience. Protect each other’s personal information. Keep your Vampyre life and mundane life separate. Do not reveal a person’s mundane name or any other aspects of a person’s mundane identity to anyone without explicit permission. Indeed, it is good etiquette not to inquire about a person’s mundane identity at all within Vampyre Society. Always keep the secrets entrusted to you personally. This is part of Vampyre Culture.

Education

With knowledge comes responsibility. In Vampyre Culture knowledge is traditionally passed on personally – from person to person, from mentor to protégé – forming traceable lines of transmission. Being of the Vampyric Heritage, it is a Vampyre’s duty and responsibility to share one’s knowledge with others and impart them with the necessary skills to feed responsibly, to instruct them in the language and traditions of Vampyre Culture, and to prepare them to serve as leaders and guides for the next generation of Vampyres, passing on the legacy so that it may endure. In a traditional mentor-protégé relationship, a mentor is called to protect, to guide and to correct any missteps of their protégé – always leading by example. For the duration of a traditional mentorship period, a mentor is – to a limited degree – responsible for the behaviour of their protégé. A good mentor will provide access as well as personal insight by introducing their protégé to relevant texts and resources, teaching them protocol and proper conduct, and inviting them to attend gatherings and social functions with them. A good protégé will demonstrate an eagerness to learn by asking questions and show respect by being attentive and valuing their mentor’s time. By tradition, it is the mentor’s responsibility to assess whether their protégé has acquired the necessary level of experience, self-control and knowledge to stand on their own and be formally recognized as a member of Vampyre Society. The successful end of a mentorship period will often be marked by certain rites and celebrations, depending on ruling customs. Vampyre Culture’s distinctly personal approach to the transmission of knowledge often stems from an appreciation of the living Vampyric Heritage and the desire to keep the flame alive by passing it on from one person to another, one generation to the one following. Our Tradition is not the worship of ashes, but the preservation of fire. This is part of Vampyre Culture.

Family

Blood is thicker than water. Vampyres traditionally organize themselves into clannish, close-knit groups of like-minded, kindred spirits. Traditional Houses, Clans, Covens, or Families of Vampyres often emphasize their familial nature as part of their self-image. Indeed, traditional groups of Vampyres can at times resemble surrogate families, providing safety, stability and support – a life among your own kind, where other support systems might have failed you. Someone’s Vampyre Family is a true family of choice, often just as important to the individual as someone’s original family – if not more so. For these reasons, belonging and loyalty to one’s Vampyre Clan-Family or Vampyre House are valued highly in Vampyre Culture. Vampyre Houses, or other equivalent traditional groups, form the backbone of Vampyre Culture, and are typically, but not necessarily, headed by one or several influential matriarchal or patriarchal figures, with a close inner circle of Family members and retainers, attracting an outer circle of prospective members and hang-arounds as well as various supporters and sympathizers. While a certain level of stratification is traditionally upheld, it mainly fulfils a need for stability and security, which is ceremonially reproduced by hierarchy and ritual. In reality, there is often a striking difference between the formal stratified structure and the informal familial nature of this type of group – even in the most traditional of Vampyre Houses. Apart from providing their members with a family-like network of support, mutual loyalty and trust, Vampyre Houses, or other equivalent traditional groups, serve Vampyre Society in various other ways. Depending on the group or organization in question, Vampyre Houses, or other equivalent traditional groups, may be actively involved in the preservation and furthering of knowledge, in structured education and teaching, as well as in organizing events and social functions for their local communities. While the vast majority of individual Vampyres does not belong to a group following a more traditional model, their ideas and values of Family are deeply embedded in Vampyre Culture in general. Without the bonds of Family, we are nothing: Loyalty to each other, to Vampyre Society, to Clan and House – honouring the Ancestors, in Life and Death. All this is part of Vampyre Culture.

IDEAL OF VAMPYRE CULTURE

In Black Rose Society we customary refer to the utopian ideal of a community envisioned by Vampyre Culture as Vampyre Society.

Vampyre Society is perhaps, above all, a community of shared values. Vampyres often believe themselves to be in some way different from other people within larger society. Many Vampyres have experienced or continue to experience alienation due to their unique experiences. Vampyre Society is a place where all are valued and embraced for who they are, and where to be different is celebrated and cherished. Vampyre Society is a place where all are largely free from judgement imposed by larger society, heeding only Vampyre-specific codes of behaviour, more appropriate to their way of living. Vampyre Society is a place of belonging, which – fostered by the personal relationships found in real community, strengthened through facing shared adversity together, and heightened by the very mystique of the vampire archetype – may engender genuine feelings of pride and awaken true solidarity with other members of Vampyre Society.

To make Vampyre Society a lived reality, whenever or wherever possible, at social gatherings, or in any interaction with other Vampyres and Black Swans – this is the meaning of Vampyre Culture.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

please tell me your headcannons about the silly old traditions and funny hats and gowns worn at the Assassins Guild graduation ceremonies (bonus points: Vetinari occasionally attends as a distinguished alumnus; differences for those not taking the black) Downey has to make a speech

I love this ask, thank you so much. <3 

--

Downey has added feathers to the hats because it’s Downey and he believes all hats need a nice feather. 

Vetinari: . . .I refuse. 

Downey: It’s a single, white feather. Very stylish. 

Vetinari: You can’t make these hats stylish. It’s impossible. 

Downey: That will not stop me from trying. 

-- 

First it must be said, I place most of my Discworld fashion firmly in the “anywhere from 1350-1650″ camp. Which means there’s lots of diversity but it’s all still very late medieval/early modern. This is a just-me thing though, as the books are all over the place with the fashion. There seemed to be a sense, in the early Watch books, that fashion went backwards (i.e. the more recent, to our mind, the clothes the more old fashioned they are on discworld) but that was quickly abandoned partway through the series and then it became a hodgepodge. 

I still like the early modern feel and so am keeping to it. You can pry Downey’s stupid fucking doublet with its black pearl buttons and his slouchy hat with the Florentine “I’m very gay” feather from my cold, dead hands. 

--

This got long so it’s under the cut. 

Fashion first, because this is Downey and the Assassins we’re talking about after all. 

So I imagine the hats that the professors/teaching staff wear are the slouchy ones like these. This is modeled off of hats that were in fashion when the guild first instituted formal graduation ceremonies which are relatively recent (for a given value of “recent” i.e. only circa 150/200 years ago). 

The students graduating with the Black get the slouchy hats too. The ones who didn’t take the black get the more familiar flat board graduation cap. (Students 100% balance things on top of the flat board cap. This may or may not be desired by the cap-wearer.)

The formal, ceremonial gowns, indeed the entire outfit, for the teachers are hilariously ornate because of course they are. It’s the Assassin’s Guild. 

All ceremonial gowns would be different iterations of the houppelande. 

Beneath the gown there is the Assassin’s black of the doublet with a long-ish skirt beneath the belt (knee length? perhaps floor - but then it starts hitting gown territory). The doublet is form fitting at the top, belted off with the skirt below. Naturally, there are very nice buttons. The linen undershirt is white and can be seen at the collar and wrists. Leggings/tights/hose/whatever you want to call them, also black and worn with dress shoes, not their usual working day boots. All men present wear this, including Vetinari. 

(Downey: No grey-blacks allowed on stage unless it’s representing your specialty and I know you didn’t specialize in astronomy and quantum mathmatics. 

Vetinari: 

Vetinari: But it’s My Colour. 

Downey: Put the doublet on.) 

Women on staff are also all in black, but it’s a dress over a kirtle which is over their undershirt which can be seen at the cuffs. The dress et al is also form fitting on the top with tightly buttoned (or laced) sleeves, then there’s the belt and full skirts after. Dresses are always worn with a high neckline. They too have formal dress shoes, though you can’t see them. 

The ceremonial gowns are black with coloured lining and trim. I’m thinking the sleeves are large and pinned back to show the lining which represents the general field you’re a specialist in. So, green for biology; red for literature/linguistics; white for deportment/dancing; blue for history; yellow for mathematics or whatever. The lining can be dual-colours if applicable. The trim will accent the lining but doesn’t mean anything in particular.  

The slouchy hats, however, tell you what the person specialized in with regards to their training i.e. poisons; knife work etc. 

Some gowns have that long drapey hood that is purely for aesthetics, but not all. I’m thinking if your specialty is stealth (coughHavelockcough) you get it. But, of course, as a specialist in stealth you don’t want people knowing that so no one who qualifies for a drapey hood wears it. 

Students wear simple black gowns with relatively short, deep cut sleeves so you can see more of their doublet beneath. Boys wear the usual doublet/hose combo (kind of like this) and girls the formal dress/kirtle combo (think this, but all black and with less jewels and tighter sleeves) beneath their graduation gowns. 

All gowns on students and staff alike are closed in the front - either with buttons or ties. 

Aside from the hat distinction between those who are taking the black and those who aren’t, the gowns for those taking the Black are all black and have the drapey hood. Those that aren’t taking the black have gowns trimmed with a dark colour - maybe blue? grey? something that blends but still is distinct.

--

Ceremonial Nonsense 

The graduation is held in the great hall where the students usually dine on a day-to-day basis. Parents are allowed and all families get a “plus two” for grandparents or family friends or whatever. 

There are two separate ceremonies - the first is for those taking the Black. That’s the one where Downey forces Vetinari to give a speech as he is Guild Provost and one a Distinguished Old Boy etc. 

Downey does his speech first and usually lines up those coming after him (Vetinari; Mericet; Lady T’Malia is what I have in my head. Though Mericet can usually convince Downey to sub in someone else as he is Too Old For This Shit).

For those taking the Black Downey will pepper in Fun Facts About Assassins and Helpful Pro Tips for Life (some of which are more helpful than others). Vetinari’s speech usually offers subtle rebuttals to Downey’s more outlandish life advice. Lady T’Malia’s is a universal favourite because she has the dry, disdainful wit of a person who has seen way too much nonsense in her life and has lived to continue to roll her eyes at it all. 

Mericet, when he’s made to do a speech and can’t pawn it off on one of the younger staff, is always very short. His record time was 15 seconds wherein he got to the podium, looked somberly out at his soon to be former students, and said “All I can say to you is, good luck and don’t die” then he sat down. Downey could be heard to mutter: Really?? rather loudly. 

Vetinari, more out of a desire to cause Downey some form of annoyance than anything else, will drone on for a long time and pepper in weird references only the headmaster of the guild will understand. He makes a few tiger jokes every year to which Downey, when he gets up to introduce the next speaker, will reply: “You really need to get over that”. No one knows what they’re talking about. However, the students always haaate it when Vetinari takes the podium. There is much sighing and sliding down in seats out of boredom. 

The students are called up to the stage the receive their diploma in order of their name and it’s done by house (so viper house then black widow then poison dart frog or whatever they all are). 

Weapons are expressly forbidden on all students after that One Unfortunate Incident back when Cruces was headmaster about which the least said, soonest mended. 

Back when Downey and Vetinari were graduating, when weapons were allowed, all students were given a ceremonial sword and they got to wear it when they went up to take their diploma. Students still get a ceremonial sword (or dagger, depending on preference) but they are received after the ceremony. 

The infamous ring is presented alongside the diploma. 

For those not taking the Black, it’s still the same roster of speakers but it’s usually a faster ceremony (though, that is changing over the years as the Guild is sought out more and more as a general-purpose educational institution for parents seeking a classical education for their children). 

Students in this group are also gifted a ceremonial sword but they’re allowed to wear theirs during the graduation ceremony because most can do nice, polite, gentlemanly dueling and not much else. Unlike their colleagues who can use it in increasingly diverse and experimental fashions. 

After both ceremonies are complete there is a grand dinner with students and their families and much conviviality. Under Downey’s reign as headmaster the amount of “accidental deaths” that occurred at this dinner have decreased dramatically. Mostly because unlike previous headmaster, Downey thinks it a waste of a good education to knock someone off so soon. Also, it is deplorable manners and not civil.

(Vimes, “It’s also immoral.” Downey, “I fail to see your point, commander?”) 

Wait at least a year or two until inhuming that One Guy who was A Class A Cunt During Maths. Or, if they’re really that bothersome, at least have the grace to wait until after the pudding has been served. 

--

Pre-graduation tomfoolery 

The graduating class, as a whole (well, those who survived the Run and those not taking the Black who haven’t accidentally fallen down the stairs), have two weeks between end of term and graduation and tend to run absolutely wild. 

Downey’s main rule is: no one is inhumed, his dogs are left alone and nothing is set on fire; flooded; booby-trapped; or exploded etc.* 

*see fine print for continuing list. 

It is considered a grand tradition for each house to prank their house master. One year, students cellophaned everything in Mericet’s office. Including individual pages of books. Downey thought this absolutely Delightful. Mericet said, “that’s it, I’m retiring.” Which is, coincidentally, what he says every year. 

Students will also strike up a very large game of Gotcha (i.e. Assassin) over the course of the intervening weeks between Term and Graduation. It used to be a very deadly endeavour but due to Downey’s new rule of “no inhuming until after graduation you daft kids” it’s just become a way to dunk on people. 

These are also the weeks that students clean out their rooms which is always an adventure. Many will try and discreetly sneak out their illegal pot plants and shroom logs. Those that hide them in places that aren’t their room will have minor panic attacks because Lady T’Malia and other staff enjoy rounding up the plants ahead of the students and watching the fallout. 

(Vetinari: I really should tell Vimes you have enough here to supply everyone in the city for a decade. 

Downey: Leave my drug collection alone.)

There is a lot of Lady T’Malia and others being like, “You all do know we hid our illegal shit in the exact same places, right?’ 

Students will also throw end-of-year ragers in the common room which the staff pretend to know nothing about. These tend to get very messy very quickly. Downey will show up around 3am to shut it down, though. Because some people need to sleep and aren’t 18 anymore. 

--

Anyway, that’s the long and short of my headcanon for Guild Graduation nonsense. All in all it’s a rowdy if somewhat bittersweet time. Downey secretly gets a little teary eyed over it. Aww look at his tiny little murderers going off into the big wide world. He remembers when they first arrived with knobbly knees and big eyes. His paternal side comes out in full force. 

Vetinari: it’s very good you have hundreds of students and several dogs because I don’t know what you’d do without them since you’re basically 110% a dad. 

Downey: i might have gotten married. What a horrifying concept. 

Vetinari: 

Vetinari: I have weird feelings about that which I am not going to explore in any great depth. 

--

Thank you so much for the ask! <3 <3 

[mammoney-honey]

Summoning Circles: What to Offer the Brothers GN!MC

MC doesn’t need to set up anything to summon them since they have their pact but sometimes its just nice to add a bit of drama. It’s also a good way to get the brothers to accept Just Because gifts. So what would would MC lay out as an offering for their favorite demon in their pentagram?

Lucifer

Lucifer is hard to get gifts for because hes a man of few words and fewer guilty pleasures

MC does their best to keep an eye out for things he does like and finally sets things up when they feel that Luci needs a bit of a break

They mostly offer things that would make for a good date night but with one small exception: special gourmet dog treats 

He won’t admit it, he says Cerberus is just a well trained guard dog, but that big boy gets only the best and MC knows that Lucifer will appreciate the gesture

The rest is all about setting the mood so Lucifer couldn’t possibly say no to staying

The first thing to accomplish this is the finest bottle of hellfire aged wine, a special request put through to Diavolo for whatever he thought Lucifer would like most

And to accompany a good drink you need some good food as well. A charcuterie board supplied with recommendations from Barbatos and Luke. The little guy should be called a mouse rather than a dog with how much he loves cheese. It took a long time for him to stop talking about it

One of the things that MC looks most fondly on of their time with Lucifer was quiet nights in listening and dancing to new music. They didn’t always share the same tastes but they were always willing to give it a go

So MC would find a vinyl, the only thing Lucifer would listen to the purest that he is, of their most recent favorite song or band so that they could share it with him

The last thing offered is that which Lucifer would want above all else as his own, MC

They can think of nothing else that would gain Lucifer’s attention more than offering their full and complete self. His pride could never allow him to deny taking MC when they offer themselves so willingly

He appears in full demon form, he can’t think of who would be ballsy enough to try and summon him and he has to pull back on his full power once he sees its MC

“MC, my dearest love, the pageantry is appreciated but overall unneeded. All you ever have to do is call my name, all I wish is to hear my name on your lips. But now that I’m here lets make sure you are screaming it”

Mammon

He is another one who is hard to gift things to but for the opposite reason as Lucifer. He likes too many things, wants everything and so it makes it impossible to tell what would actually mean something to him

MC tries their best to lay out things that will show how much they love and appreciate their favorite demon

Money of course is the first thing that is set out but not just spare Grimm or human cash

No, MC will put gift cards out for Mammon’s favorite places or for a date that they can have together. It feels more personal that way and they hope it shows that they pay attention to the things he likes

Mammon has a wardrobe to rival Asmo’s but he insists that it all has to do with his job as a model. Gotta keep up appearances and all that yanno. Hes just a label whore though and everyone knows it

He also just melts at the idea that MC might be thinking of what he would look good in so if they put out a new outfit or accessory, even if its just new sunglasses or a belt, he just about explodes

He will scoff and say that hes not sure if human styles are really his thing but of course puts whatever it is on quickly

Next would be a very special edition of the TSL dvds, a directors cut that even Levi couldn’t get his hands on. He has watched it with MC so many times he could practically recite it but they were always borrowing from Levi so it was about time to start wearing out their own copy

The last two things are more personal, something that shows just how much MC thinks of and misses being with him

The first of that is MC’s favorite set of pictures they took with Mammon, a silly photo booth strip that captured their first kiss. MC had surprised him on the first snapshot and it showed a progression of him getting redder and redder before finally kissing them back

Lastly is a page from their diary, as intimate an offering as they can possibly give. Its from a day where the longing for Mammon was at its strongest and filled with sweet words of how much they miss their first man

Mammon is freaked out at first thinking he is being summoned by another witch and is confused to see MC before taking it all in

“H-hey you don’t have to go through all this. I mean of course The Great Mammon won’t say no to the the things he deserves but ... b-but you only ever need to say my name, there is no where I’d rather be than with you”

Levi

Levi has a bad habit of just buying whatever he wants but considering that he has so many fandom’s its not hard to find some piece or another he doesn’t have 

MC feels like his brothers don’t give much thought to his gifts though, just typing in a name they know and getting whatever they find. They want to give him something more personal and can’t just be bought and shipped in two days

MC starts to watch a lot of craft, cooking and cosplay YouTubers to try and put everything together themselves. It felt more genuine that way at least to them

MC tries to keep things diverse, hitting a couple of Levi’s favorites but mostly avoiding anything Ruri related since they are afraid of messing it up lmao

Instead they focus on the anime’s and games that they watched and played together. Almost like a collection of inside jokes that they are using to summon him

The first thing MC sets out is a prettily decorated plate of macrons, doing their best to replicate the colors and flavors described in the one bakery time management game they always played

MC also went through Levi’s super secret fanfiction accounts I will fight you he is totally a fic writer because he has so many self inserts and fix it fics  and wrote out comments for every single thing he had written. They printed them out not because they didn’t think he read them but to show that they were the ones that left them

Along with the comments MC also created art for Levi’s most beloved OC, creating cute enamel pins of them in chibi form with the cannon character he paired them with

 The last two things came as a sort of combo, a couples cosplay from the romance anime they had watched together. The protagonist had been a shut in otaku who had found his soulmate when they were reborn into his world and Levi had latched onto him immediately 

It had taken a lot of blood sweat and tears trying to get both of the outfits cannon perfect but damn it MC was not going to settle for anything less

At one point they forgot they were making it for Levi and just got caught up in the the drama that was finding the perfect buttons and trim color

Overall they were so proud of the sewing skills they just wanted to call on him the moment they were done so he could see but they got a hold of themselves so they could set up what they had planned

Levi was summoned into the circle still wearing his headset and fingers tapping at a controller that had been left behind

His demon side comes out at having been cost a serious match from the sounds of it but his anger turns to confusion at seeing MC and then into wide eyed amazement at all of the things in front of him

He started to gush about every single thing he saw before he realized that MC was there beaming at him 

“You went through all this trouble to prove that you aren’t a normie and yet you summon me this way?? J-just say my name like you’re supposed to! I kind of like hearing you say it anyway ...”

Satan

Satan surprisingly doesn’t like being the center of attention and thus doesn’t really like surprises or receiving gifts. He also doubts that anyone understands him enough to give him what he wants cocky ass that he is

The idea for the things to set out in his summoning circle came to MC when discussing love potions with Satan and Solomon one day. They were talking about how smell plays such a strong part and Satan let slip some of the things he might smell after MC listed some of theirs

So while MC doesn’t have much, well any, experience in magic or potions they do want to try to stir up those feelings those smells produce in Satan

The first thing he had said came as a surprise to no one, the smell of parchment and ink

MC used each of them as their own separate offering on the pentagram. They used a fancy new calligraphy quill dipped in green ink that matched his eyes to write a long love note for him

The ink was still wet on the parchment that they set down and left the quill and remaining ink as the second gift

The next thing he mentioned was another one MC expected: tea leaves

So MC just walked into their local tea shop and let their nose lead the way. Anything that caught their attention or made them want to keep smelling they bought, creating their own special blend just for Satan

It wasn’t necessarily something that Satan would say for himself but MC had started to burn different candles in their room when he would come to rant when he was angry, trying to find a scent that he could associate with being calm when they helped him work through the anger

Whatever candle seemed to work the best is the candle that MC sets out for him. Probably something woodsy, pine or balsam or even sandalwood. It brings back good memories for MC, kissing all those worries of his away and hopes it does the same

The last item is one that made MC blush when they heard Satan admit it, he had liked the scent of their shampoo

He hadn’t said that specifically but he had closed his eyes and described a scent that he couldnt place but that he adored and when MC was taking their shower that night it clicked 

It might have been a little lame, leaving a bottle of shampoo out for Satan but MC knew that when he realized what that scent he loved so much was that he would get the cutest blush

They weren’t disappointed when they summoned Satan. He hid his shock of being summoned this way well, taking his time to walk around the circle and examine each offering. He immediately knew where they had gotten the inspiration and teased them about being such a sap

He stopped when he got to the shampoo though, not sure how that fit into the equation until he smelled it. It dawned on him and there was that blush that he tried to hide by turning his face away

“You always did like to make things difficult on yourself didn’t you? I’m only ever a call away for you kitten. Now come here and let me really breath you in, you’re simply intoxicating to me and I can’t stay away.”

Asmo

Asmo is never shy about when he doesn’t like gifts that people have given him but he has only ever cherished what MC has gotten him. Every small trinket and gift he has on full display in his room and he will wear something that MC got them when he misses them the most

He also will do it when he wants to bother his brothers and show off that MC simply lavished him in gifts (Mammon and Levi are the only ones who fall for it lmao)

So MC decides to offer Asmo things that will allow him to parade around their love for him, things to keep them close when MC isn’t there

The first thing that MC gets Asmo is new nail polish, a color that they agonized over finding because they wanted it to match his eyes perfectly

Asmo has a very organized planner, its how he keeps track of all the events he is invited to, when he has dates, who hes slept with, who hes going to sleep with and everything in between

MC commissions custom made stickers for him so he can decorate the pages of his planner even more. Specifically a whole sheet of cute stickers of them together he could use for when they planned date nights

The next thing was something for Asmo’s room which he was always changing and refreshing so it looked forever interesting for Devilgram pics

MC gets a large print of Asmo’s favorite picture of them together and puts it in a beautiful frame that perfectly matched his favorite decorating style. Perfect to show to the world that Asmo was their favorite demon and that they looked so good together

And so they can take even more pictures of themselves together MC buys a Polaroid camera for Asmo. His phone will always be his favorite thing to take pics on but this way they could have them printed instantly and it continues to let him be trendy

Lastly MC gets Asmo a necklace. A dainty rose gold chain that he can wear with practically everything and with a diamond accented heart shaped locket that could easily be tucked away if needed. It was an enchanted locket, thanks to the help of Solomon, and it warmed when MC was thinking of him

Its the first thing Asmo grabs and quickly puts on, showing it off for MC

“Oh MC you are simply the cutest thing I have ever seen~ I’m sorry I don’t have something to give you in return. I hope the fact that my heart beats only for you will make up for it, now come here I’ve been without kisses too long.”

Beel

Its SO hard not to just grab whatever is in the kitchen at the time and throw it in the summoning circle and call it a day for Beel

But he is more than just his hunger and MC is always striving to show him that they understand that 

It was harder than expected, just because asking anyone what Beel might want always got them food answers. They thought Belphie might be helpful but only got told “he probably just wants a nap ... its what I would want”

MC starts to think of all the most special moments they had with Beel, trying to think what about them made them so memorable and they knew for a fact that it wasn’t the food

The first thing they come up with is a banner that MC made to cheer him on at one of his games. It had gotten a little tattered and torn because it had rained that day but they just couldn’t let it go

Mostly because Beel after winning had ran up into the stands and kissed them for the first time. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t ever kissed but they had always been the one to make the first move but this time Beel had come to them. Of course in the biggest gesture possible

It was cheating a little bit offering a cookbook, it was still food related, but it felt better than putting in actual food 

This particular cookbook was special to MC too, they had spent several months trying to recreate one of the recipes from it down in the Devildom when MC didn’t have it. Even their D.D.D had been no help in finding the human world dish they were trying so hard to recreate

It had finally been Beel who had found someplace that sold the food they had been craving. He had even been able to bring it back completely untouched just so that they could have it all though he didn’t complain when they offered him several bites from their fork

MC pulls the next thing from their own shelves at home, a well read copy of Lord of the Flies. The spine cracked and little notes about their favorite parts scribbled in the margin

It was one of the human novels that Satan had and one of MCs favorites from school. Beel had caught them reading it and thought the title was ironic but the more he watched MC get engrossed in reading the more curious he got

He eventually asked MC to read it to him, he actually liked books even if most didn’t take him for the type it was just that he had a hard time actually reading himself. He always got distracted by food but audio books always worked well for him when he was working out, it turned out to be even better when MC read to him when he was eating

It was the best of both worlds for him and he found the story actually pretty funny, slightly worrying MC but they figured they couldn’t blame a demon for getting enjoyment out of a story like that. He did find their lack of food concerning though so at least there was that

One of the things that Beel often complained about when MC was living in the devildom was that when he went to go eat they weren’t always there. Sure Beel would ask them to tag along whenever possible but it didn’t always happen. He would call them from the kitchen at times and tell them that he missed them

MC was sure the other brothers would have something to say about it but knew that Beel would genuinely enjoy the next thing MC offered. Amagnet with his favorite picture of them. It was MC caught in a candid he took, mid bite in a dessert he had made them and his hand could just be seen wiping some whipped cream off MC’s cheek

It was a way that Beel could have MC with him at his favorite place every time

The last thing that MC laid out was something that was inspired by Beel. He had once given them a coupon for a free meal by him and they had thought it was just about the cutest thing ever

They made him a whole coupon book of favors ranging from cooking any meal he wanted to recording his workouts for him and of course lots of coupons for hugs and kisses

Beel isn’t used to being summoned at all so hes slightly disoriented when he finds himself suddenly in the human world. As soon as he sees MC though its nothing but smiles and he doesn’t even notice the gifts until after

“MC did you know I was thinking about you? Sometimes I just say your name and hope you will appear ... so if you ever think of me just say my name. I want to be here, even if its during dinner” 

Belphie

Belphie is not one to beat around the bush at all. He is a creature of habit and just wants more of the same things that he already has. Dont fix something if its not broke right?

So its fairly easy to fill his summoning circle with things that he loves, just adding to his ever growing collection of happy nap time things

That isn’t to say that MC just grabs whatever blanket or pillows they have laying around, they still want it to be special for him

So yes the first two things they offer to Belphie is a pillow and blanket, there was never going to be anything else but MC spent a long time putting their love into finding just the right ones for him ... and still couldn’t find what they wanted

MC used this as an excuse to create something themselves for their sleepy boy. They dived deep into youtube and pintrest and spent more money than they care to admit on materials until finally they made what they wanted

The first was a quilt large enough for three cause the twins like to make MC a sandwich in a cow print pattern that matched his pillow and demon form marks, lined with the softest fabric she could find that was the same purple as his eyes 

His pillow was another quilted design, this time of a cloudy night sky with a sleepy cow jumping over the moon. MC stitched his name in pretty gold thread on the back long with a sweet ‘I love you’

There was one last fluffy thing to give to him, this one MC knew he would probably scoff and tease them about but they couldn’t help it. They saw the angry looking cow plushie and just could not walk away 

They have actually been sleeping with it when they miss him most and even if he doesn’t like the plushie the fact they have slept with it so much will make him a bit fonder of it

Even though they were pretty sure that Belphie knew every star in the sky MC couldn’t help but get a book with stories about the constellations. He might already know them all but they thought that he might still enjoy hearing them read to him as he drifted to sleep

The last thing MC has to offer him is also star related. A star map of the day that they made their pact. It was the day that MC had fully forgiven everything that had happened before and their relationship had truly began

When Belphie was summoned he was half asleep but knew who it must be even in his sluggish state. He gave a big yawn and looked around at all the things around him 

“At least things are already set up for the perfect nap, including having you. MC next time just say my name alright? Its much more of a drag this way ... and I want to know when you are dreaming of me”