#of people trying to steal our souls and bodies!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[capucapo]

@hobomagician

I can't believe I'm saying this but. THANKS

can that thing really steal souls? I tried to get to my brother and it fucking knocked me back?????

[robin374]

ROBIN HIHIHIHI, THINK FAST

*throws u silly HCS ideas yet again aggressively*

SOOO I KINDA GOT ATTACHED TO OUR ASSHOLE OF AN ANGEL, ADAM SO I WAS THINKING:

Adam x Sweet angel reader

basically reader is the most sweet person u can encounter, like always complementing Adam, giving him hand made gifts and etc, and then theres Adam.

wanna know how this dynamic will go

luv ya

"ᏖᏂᏋᏒᏋ ᎩᎧᏬ ᏗᏒᏋ, ᏕᏬᎶᏗᏒ ᏖᎥᏖᏕ!"

Character: Adam x reader (Romantic)

Notes: I'M BACK, I've finally finished my exams YIPPIE

Summary: Reader is a sweetheart and Adam somehow falls in love with them.

I'm pretty sure that he's always trying to make you angry in some way. For example, he will be trying to annoy you all the time, and you will answer him with a sweet smile asking him if he's happy that day because he seems more enegertic.

We all know that he sometimes says really morally questionable things, so whenever you hear him say those things you will hit the back of his head and scold him.

At first he thought that your kind and sweet nature was a sign of weakness, because well, he's always around Lute and the Exorcist angels. However, when he saw you ruining someone's day with just a smile and two sarcastic but bold phrases, all those negative thoughts about you dissapeared. Now you have a supportive angel behind you everytime you argue with someone. And with supportive I mean that he's flipping the other angel off while saying "That's right, bitch!" or "You tell ém, sugar tits!"

Yeah, he's pretty obvious with his crush on you, and he's not ashamed. He told Lute about it, she was bit confused at first, like... She's sure that your blood is pure sugar, how could he fall in love with you? You're the total opposite. But, she was happy that Adam found someone after the events with Lillith and Eve...

He's a bit insecure of those events, I mean, he's afraid that Lucifer goes to heaven and steal you away from him. Then, he realizes that you don't even know about the exterminations. He won't tell you, and if you were at the council when Charlie tried to talk to Heaven's leaders. He will be very afraid that you turn against him, that you see him as a monster. Of course, you don't want to accpet that he's been killing souls, even if they are in Hell, they don't desever to die permanentely.

He tried to apologize telling you that those souls desever it, they were in hell for a reason, right? You told him that as long as he didn't kill any children or people who didn't really deseve it, you would let him go down to Hell. If not, you would tell Sera and even God about it and forbid him to go to Hell.

Before the extermination he wanted to talk to you in private. "I want to tell you something, sweetcheeks." You looked at him with a smile. "I... Sorry, you..." For the first time in centuries he was at a loss of words. So, he decided to kiss your lips. It was a bit aggressive at first, but when you softly put your hands in his cheeks his tensed up body loosened a bit. When you separated, you looked at golden eyes, which were looking at you softly. You caressed his cheek, you knew that Hell was going to fight back in that extermination, you knew that he was in danger. "Just don't die, please." You whispered. "I won't die, sugar. I'm Adam, the Adam, the original dick! They can't kill me." He said while hugging you. The, he put his helmet on and flew off to Hell. You gave Lute a gaze that asked her to protect him.

What you didn't expect was to see Lute without an arm. You rapidly rushed to her and started to treat her wounds. While you were stitching up her arm, she took something from a bag. It was a halo similar to Adam's. Suddenly you felt a knot in your throat, was he dead? The look that Lute gave you told you everything. "I tried... But... I'm so sorry..."

You took his halo and put it next to your heart. Tears were falling from your eyes, Lute didn't know what to do, should she comfort you? Should she walk away? Call someone? She just decided to stand behind you waiting for you to say something Now, you had mixed feeling about Hell, you were sure that souls could be redeemed and that extermination was wrong. But how could you fully believe them when they killed your lover?

[steddietogo]

So. This is my own take on Steddie meet cute at the Grammys (gets a little thirsty in the middle for a second so warning I guess??)

———

The buzzing in his veins feel too much to contain in Eddie’s body, his cheeks ache from grinning too hard. He grabs Jeff by the shoulders to shake him and Jeff takes it without complain, too busy floating in his own cloud nine to do anything about it. All four of them are.

They’re being carted off from one interview to another, it’s all hazy in his mind, all he can think of is that they won a fucking Grammy.

“We’re here backstage with Corroded Coffin with their first ever Grammy from the best rock performance category,” the interviewer is saying, then he turns to face the band, and shit. Eddie has to sling an arm over Gareth to keep himself upright. “So how are you guys feeling right now?”

“It feels very validating to get the recognition for all our hard work—” and everything else Jeff says barely registers. Eddie is staring, he’s distantly aware of it. But he should hardly be blamed. The man before him is dressed in a deep caramel suit, jacket cinching around a trim waist and bubble gum pink lips stretched in a smile as he diligently listens to what his band has to say.

“— and Eddie, he’s really put his heart and soul in this song in particular,” the mention of his name unceremoniously drags him back to the land of the living where his bandmates know him too well and are actively trying to sabotage him before the sexy interviewer. Gareth is innocently blinking up at Eddie with his I’ve-never-done-anything-wrong-in-my-life eyes, urging him to speak.

“Um,” Um? Seriously? “Mob Mentality is an especially significant song to me personally—” Eddie’s given this spiel a hundred times, not that any word of it is untrue, but the practiced response lets him zone out just the right amount to fully drown himself in the shade of hazel of the interviewer’s eyes, imagine them looking up at Eddie from between his thighs, full of tears— goddamnfuckstopit.

The man must notice, because there’s a gorgeous smattering of pink dusting his cheeks Eddie could swear wasn’t there before.

After, Eddie is pretty much bodily dragged away from there, legs refusing to carry him away. He twists even as he’s walking, desperate to keep the man within his sights for even just a second longer. To keep him looking at Eddie, which by some miracle, he still is. And like an idiot Eddie waves, wiggling his fingers at him.

The man raises his own hand in return, and then he’s turning away, leaving Eddie to mourn the loss of his attention. But then he hears it— Steve. The camera guy calls him Steve. Sexy interviewer’s name is Steve. That in itself would be enough to sustain Eddie’s daydreams for some time.

———

Predictably, its all over social media the very next day. Or more accurately there’s one particular clip circling the net like there’s no tomorrow.

Eddie Munson simping for hot guy at the Grammys.

The comments were the worst (best) part. Eddie hasn’t dated since coming out to the public. And the fact that most of the comments people have about him openly showing interest in another man is just nonchalance or excitement makes him feel much better about it.

Eddie’s heart skips as he sees the face from last night in the clip, looking even more gorgeous than in his dreams if it were even possible. And then there is also Eddie in those clips, practically undressing him with his eyes, right there in public. He looks like he wants to open him up and lick him like melted chocolate in a wrapper.

Eddie was so screwed.

———

Top comments:

user 80085: that man is stronger than me because I don’t think I’d survive Eddie Munson looking at me like that

CorrodedFC: Eddie Munson Rendered momentarily speechless? by an interviewer?? More likely that you think

you_call_me_munson: they need to date. Right this second or I’m stealing one of the hotties for myself

———

Part II

[bowtiepastabitch]

Historical Analysis: class and injustice in 'The Ressurrectionists' minisode

Alternate title: why we're tempted to be upset with Aziraphale and why that's only halfway fair

Okay so first off huge thanks to @makewayforbigcrossducks for asking the question (and follow-up questions lol) that brought me to put these thoughts all together into a little history nerd ramble. That question being, Why is Aziraphale so clueless? Obviously, from a plot perspective, we know we need to learn some lessons about human moral dilemmas and injustices. But from a character perspective? A lot of this minisode is about Aziraphale being forced to confront the flaws of heavenly logic. This whole idea that "poverty is ineffable" basically boils down to 'yeah some people are poor, but their souls can be saved just as if not more easily that way, so it's not our problem and they probably deserve it anyway for not working hard enough,' a perspective that persists in many modern religious circles. Aziraphale isn't looking at the human factor here, he's pretty much purely concerned about the dichotomy of good and wicked human behavior and the spiritual consequences thereof, because that's what he's been told to believe. His whole goal is to "show her the error of her ways." He believes, quite wholeheartedly, that he's helping her in the long run.

"the lower you start, the more opportunities you have"

So here's what we're asking ourselves: Why did it take him so bloody long to realize how stupid that is? Sure, he's willing to excuse all kinds of things in the name of ineffability, but if someone in the year of our lord 2023 told me he was just now realizing that homelessness was bad after experiencing the past two centuries, I'd be resisting the urge to get violent even if he WAS played by Michael Sheen.

Historical context: a new type of poverty

Prior to the 19th century (1800s), poverty was a very different animal from what we deal with now. The lowest classes went through a dynamic change leading up to the industrial revolution, with proto-industrialization already moving people into more manufacture-focused tasks and rapid urbanization as a result of increasingly unlivable conditions for rural peasantry. The enclosure of common lands and tennancies by wealthy landowners for the more profitable sheep raising displaced lots of families, and in combination with poor harvests and rising rents, many people were driven to cities to seek out new ways of eeking out a living.

Before this, your ability to eat largely would have depended on the harvest in your local area. This can, for our purposes, be read as: you're really only a miracle away from being able to survive the winter. Juxtapose this, then, with the relatively new conundrum of an unhoused urban poor population. Now if you want to eat, you need money itself, no exceptions, unless you want to steal food. Charity at the time was often just as much harm as good, nearly always tied deeply up in religious attitudes and a stronger desire to proselytize than improve quality of lie. As a young woman, finding work in a city is going to be incredibly difficult, especially if you're not clean and proper enough to present as a housemaid or other service laborer. As such, Elspeth turns to body snatching to try to make a better life for herself and Wee Morag. She's out of options and she knows it.

You know who doesn't know that? Aziraphale.

The rise of capitalism

The biggest piece of the puzzle which Aziraphale is missing here is that he hasn't quite caught onto the concept of capitalism yet. To him, human professions are just silly little tasks, and she should be able to support herself if she just tried. Bookselling, weaving, farming, these are all just things humans do, in his mind. He suggests these things as options because it hasn't occurred to him yet that Elspeth is doing this out of desperation, but he also just doesn't grasp the concept of capital. Crowley does, he thinks it's hilarious, but Aziraphale is just confused as to why these occupations aren't genuine options. Farming in particular, as briefly touched on above, was formerly carried out largely on common land, tennancies, or on family plots, and land-as-capital is an emerging concept in this period of time (previously, landowners acted more like local lords than modern landlords). Aziraphale just isn't picking up on the fact that money itself is the root issue.

Even when he realizes that he fucked up by soup-ifying the corpse, he doesn't offer to give them money but rather to help dig up another body. He still isn't processing the systemic issues at play (poverty) merely what's been immediately presented to him (corpses), and this is, from my perspective, half a result of his tunnel-vision on morality and half of his inability to process this new mode of human suffering.

Half a conclusion and other thoughts

So we bring ourselves back around to the question of Aziraphale's cluelessness. Aziraphale is, as an individual, consistently behind on the times. He likes doing things a certain way and rarely changes his methodology unless someone forces his hand. Even with the best intentions, his ability to help in this minisode is hindered by two points: 1)his continued adherance to heavenly dogma 2)his inability to process the changing nature of human society. His strongest desire at any point is to ensure that good is carried out, an objective good as defined by heavenly values, and while I think it's one of his biggest character hangups, I also can't totally blame him for clinging to the only identity given to him or for worrying about something that is, as an ethereal being, a very real concern. Unfortunately, he also lacks an understanding of the actual human needs that present themselves. Where Elspeth knows that what she needs is money, Aziraphale doesn't seem to process that money is the only solution to the immediate problem. This is in part probably because a century prior the needs of the poor were much simpler, and thus miraculous assistance would never have interfered with 'the virtues of poverty'. (You can make someone's crops grow, and they'll eat well, but giving someone money actually changes their economic status.) Thus, his actions in this episode illustrate the intersection of heavenly guidelines with a weak understanding of modern structures.

This especially makes sense with his response to being told to give her money. Our angel is many things, but I would never peg him as having any attachment to his money. He's not hesitant because he doesn't want to part with it, he's hesitant because he's still scared it's the wrong thing to do in this scenario. He really is trying to be good and helpful. So yes, we're justifiably pretty miffed to see him so blatantly unaware and damaging. He definitely holds a lot of responsibility for the genuine tragedy of this minisode, and I think Crowley pointing out that it's 'different when you knew them' is an extremely important moment for Aziraphale's relationship with humanity. Up until now, he's done a pretty good job insulating himself from the capacity of humans for nastiness, his seeming naivity at the Bastille being case in point.

In the end, I think Aziraphale's role in this minisode is incredibly complex, especially within its historical context. He's obstinate and clueless but also deeply concerned with spiritual wellbeing (which is, to Aziraphale, simply wellbeing) and doing the right thing to be helpful. While it's easy to allow tiny Crowley (my beloved) to eclipse the tragic nature and moral complexity of this minisode, I think in the end it's just as important to long-term character development as 'A Companion to Owls'. We saw him make the right choice with Job's children, and now we see him make the wrong choice. And that's a thing people do sometimes, a thing humans do.

~~~

also tagging @ineffabildaddy, @kimberellaroo, and @raining-stars-somewhere-else whose comments on the original post were invaluable in helping me organize my thoughts and feelings about this topic. They also provided great insight that, in my opinion, is worth going and reading for yourself, even if it didn't factor into my final analysis/judgement.

If I missed anything or you have additional thoughts, please please share!!! <3

[avocado-writing]

I saw some of your BG3 headcanon and I got to say I love it. 💕

I hope it okay to ask what would BG3 companion would react if the reader is a selkie 🦭💕

how cute! hope you enjoy, anon!

Astarion

sort of glad he isn’t the only “afflicted” of the group (even though you consider your selkie-dom a blessing and not a curse like his vampirism)

you spend long nights discussing how you adapted to “normal” life after the tadpole. he doesn’t need to hide from sunlight, you don’t feel the pull to constantly be near water.

makes jokes about stealing your sealskin when you annoy him, in return you threaten to stake him. just girly things 💕💞💓💗💝💘💖

when you finally get the confidence to transform in front of him he is transfixed. you are beautiful.

“what do you think?” nervous eyes, picking at your fingers.

“you’re wonderful,” he says, uncharacteristically sincere, and you feel your cheeks heat up.

Gale

super duper fascinated.

asks you a billion questions, ones you didn’t even think about the answers to!

”so how does it feel when you actually slip into your seal form?” “?? Normal I guess? Idk, Gale!”

he watches you transform and swim around, making lots of notes to start with — but he gets distracted and just watches you play.

when you flop up onto the bank next to him, covered in water and out of your seal body, he gets lost in the sweet depth of your eyes.

when he kisses you for the first time it’s the most sure he’s ever been about anything.

Karlach

“oh my GODS that’s so cool!”

also asks a billion questions too but not like… smart ones.

“have you ever eaten raw fish?” “yeah of course, Karlach!” “haha ew how did they taste?” “pretty good actually!” “AMAZING”

can’t stop looking at your, stroking your cloak when you’re in kith form. she knows how precious it is to you and wants to keep it safe.

she submerges herself in water and heats it up like a hot tub, you turn into your seal form and float around lazily enjoying her heat. ❤️

Wyll

gobsmacked but honoured you shared this side of yourself with him.

we know our lad likes fairytales, he’s swept up in the storybook aspect of it all.

(secretly you’re both thrilled at the idea of being a knight having a romance with a selkie. it’s so perfect and sweet! 💕)

always checks in to see if there’s anything he can do to make you feel more comfortable - finding you water to relax in or getting you some fatty food to enjoy.

perfect partner. respectful and doting. no notes!

Shadowheart

surprised, but pretends she knew all along (she didn’t, she just doesn’t want you knowing how taken aback she is)

I think you being a selkie helps her get the courage to try and swim.

maybe it’s you in bipedal form holding onto her and leading her into the water, or maybe you turn into a seal for extra buoyancy.

either way, she’s squeaking “don’t you dare let go!!”

she eventually gets more comfortable with this side of your life and there is nothing she enjoys more than just floating with you, holding your paw or your hand 💕

Lae’zel

doesn’t really understand.

you have to explain the concept to her a couple of times before it sinks in.

”this is a confession?” “yes…” “I do not understand why you believe I would think any differently of you. you are still the source of my joy.”

her honest acceptance of you, all of you, is enough to make your soul feel sweet.

you kiss her. there is simply nothing else for it.

Halsin

my man wildshapes, so he’s pretty used to people being in animal forms - even if it’s a bit different for you.

the two of you talk at length about changing into beasts and how it feels, what joy and freedom it brings.

let’s be real. we’ve all seen the bear scene. the two of you probably both turn into seals and get freaky. it’s great.

he likes to curl up in his bear form around you as a seal and drift off to sleep on the shore. you feel so safe next to him. he’d never let anything hurt you.

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Once upon a dream

The 1st place raffle prize for @violetregrets1837

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The blackness that swallowed your limbs gave way to a soft light. Your body was suspended in time, floating atop its waters.Your eyes opened and that soft light opened to a world. You were floating atop water, it lapped at your limbs as you floated. The current guided you to the nearest edge, and you sat upon the lip of the pool. It looked much similar to a blossoming flower, lush pink petals folding out from the bubbling water in the centre. Little balls of light danced in the air, each a different colour. You could hear them laughing among themselves, little wings fluttering about. The whole scene was nothing short of enchanting, soft piano and violin accompanying your amazement. The water began to bubble, and before you could fully skitter back, there was a woman. Her hair was long and fell in loose curls, her face was decorated with ornate makeup and gems, her clothes here finer than any human tailor could make. But perhaps most captivating of all -aside from the fact she was giant and just emerged from the water- were the wings that sprouted out from in front of her pointed ears.

“I see you are awake little one” Her voice was soft and warm, your nerves were put to rest “Your soul was embroidered with quite a bit of dark magic, but worry not, I fixed it” You stood slowly, unsure of what to do. She held out a large hand, asking for you to step on. You do so carefully, and she smiles kindly. “You are far from home little one” You sit down on the palm of her hand, and she brings you to eye level “I will allow you refuge if you can offer us anything” Your nerves set back in, all you could really do was sing, and your parents had already spent enough time explaining why it would never get you anywhere.

“I’m sorry ma’am, i’m afraid all I can do is sing” She laughs, it’s light and airy, her eyes lighting.

“That is just perfect my dear. Us faeries love music” She set you back down gently as a small light grew from your chest and enveloped your form. “Worry not, little one, I'm simply ensuring your safety while you stay with us. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of our enchantments”

And so bagan your new reality, sworn protection by the fae in return for your singing. The little fairies took some time to trust you, but soon you always had one on your shoulder or another asleep in your hair. You were safe here, free to roam the heart of the forest. You learned what to forage, what plants made good food and what flowers made for good tea. It was on one such trip foraging that you heard footsteps. He waded through the tall grasses and wove through the trees. You watched from the branches as he made his way through the forest, directly towards its heart. You’ll admit that something about him struck you, his careful steps avoiding the ruin of the forest, the hopeful gleam in his eyes as he wandered, you were captivated. But no person comes out this far, no people seek the help of great fairies anymore, not unless it’s to steal and bottle the young fairies. Your path back to the Great fairy and her fountain was quite simple now you had it memorised, but it would’ve been challenging for anyone who was unfamiliar. As soon as you stood on the lip of the fountain she appeared, examining your worried expression.

“What troubles you, my dear” She cupped both of her hands and let you crawl in.

“There’s a boy in the forest- he’s coming here” Your voice shook, and for the first time you’d been awake in this unfamiliar land, you felt scared. She smiled that knowing grin and pressed you to her cheek.

“He has no ill intent little one, there is no need for your worry.” She sets you back down and leans on the edge of the fountain with her forearms, most of her submerged in the water. “Now, how about a song? Those always calm you down, do they not?” Her suggestion was gentle, redirecting your worry towards something else. You hummed, trying to warm up your voice as you thought of a song. One sprang to mind, looking around at the magic that surrounded you.

“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream” You made sure to feel the slow sway and swell of the music as you remembered it. “I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam” The fairy in front of you smiled and closed her eyes as she enjoyed your singing more than you parents ever did. “And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem. But if I know you, I know what you'll do” The smaller fairies gathered to listen, some settling on your shoulders. “You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream” You finished there and the great fairy opened her eyes. She smiled, her eyes searching your face before glancing behind you.

“My, that was certainly a wonderful performance. Wouldn’t you agree?” Her eyes looked expectantly at the boy behind you, the same from before. He stared at you as if he were enchanted by your voice, large eyes staring at you in awe. When he noticed you staring back, his eyes widened.

“Beautiful” He managed to stammer out.

“Thank you” You smiled, knowing that the great fairy was right, he was harmless.

Hyrule was nothing short of bewitched. Your voice held no magic and yet it wrapped around his mind for the days to follow. Your face, lit with the soft glow of the fairies resting on your shoulders was finer than that of any statue or painting. He thought he was lying when his sisters back home told him that he would find someone who would complete him, filling in the cracks of his soul. And yet standing there, hearing you sing, seeing your smile, that’s the most complete he’s ever been in his whole life. The magic in his blood yearned for your voice, for your touch, for you. The great fairy before him raised him much like a son, and judging by the knowing smile on her face, she knew.

[onedayimgonnasnap]

(Idk if your requests are still open, if not feel free to ignore this <3)

But ok ok hear me out. Part 2 of the meeting Floyd’s parents in which it’s Mrs. Leech doting over you n stuff!

Have a wonderful day or night :)

HURRAY!! :D

Im kinda excited you are asking for a PT2 Ngl-

Meeting His Parents PT2

Floyd X reader

Warnings: None really but maybe cursing

You were scared, terrified. Both Mrs. Leech and Mr. Leech was taking you by the arm on both sides and carrying you away throughout the mall.

They were buying you clothes, new shoes, jewelry even. WHERE ARE THEY GETTING THIS MONEY. You already knew Floyd and his family were basically in the fish mafia and you knew the money they are spending on you is probably obtained illegally.

This made you scared, because the moment they buy you stuff with that money now you’re officially in their gang. You’re dead, if the cops are arresting them you’re most likely gone with them. Is this a threat? Maybe.

You were at a cafe with both of the parents staring at you as you took a sip of the hot chocolate in front of you. This is extremely intimidating.

They’re both giving you the famous leech smile you’re familiar with from their antichrist of sons.

You offer an awkward smile, awkwardly let out a laugh.

“Sooooo, how are you both?” You let out a small laugh trying to break the silence.

“Darling, aren’t they just adorable?! Howd our son land such a cute darling fishie?!” Miss leech yelled clenching her fist clearly trying to control herself from squeezing you to death.

“Our son must have blackmailed the poor unfortunate soul.” Mr leech giggled in amusement.

“Aha” You fake laughed.

“You know when Floyd was still a tiny eel he used to steal human food and bring it to the ocean only for it to be ruined and soggy?!” His mother said, laughing uncontrollably.

“Yes I do recall how sad he was eating the cold and soggy, he tried it once from land that a human put down next to the ocean as a sacrifice.” He laughed uncontrollably.

You also started to begin to laugh as they told you the most embarrassing stories about your boyfriend.

.

.

.

Floyd was upset, the people who created and raised him took his one true love Shrimpy. And he was abandoned in the school prison.

Azul ended up going there to laugh at Floyd and Jade then paid the money after realizing who’s gonna give him free labor-

He found out through a rumor and from over hearing Trey laugh about it with Riddle who was honestly waiting for this day to come.

As soon as Floyd and Jade got out. Oh boy all hell was gonna break loose Floyd was gonna find his Shrimpy.

———

While you were laughing with his parents you got this horrible chill down your spine like something bad was gonna happen. And immediate panic set it- Oh shit.

“SHRIMPY-“ A familiar dramatic voice cried out from the doors of the cafe you were sitting at with his parents.

‘Oh god no.’

He immediately spotted you and like an abnormal Titan started running to you. You got up and was about to run away till he threw his big body on you and tacked you to the table.

You couldn’t breathe.

“Oh Shrimpy how I missed you so much- you have no idea how they treated us there. It was horrible.”

“Floyd it wasn’t that bad haha.” A similar amused voice said behind him Jade clearly amused.

“Oh boys just in time we were just telling MC how much you used to pee on the seaweed-“

“MOM” “MOTHER-“

[bandgie]

Predator & Prey

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

a/n: this is the second chapter!

2.7k words

The beast flew in the sky happily, easily maneuvering around the tall trees. You stayed on the ground, walking as you tried to maintain some of your body heat. You would occasionally look up at the flying creature, noticing how ecstatic he was to be free. He must've been in there for a long time, you thought. Though you had endured horrible circumstances here, leaving a dead pile of bodies behind you, at least you managed to make one person happy.

The creature slowed down its flight, aiming down for a soft landing besides you. You still hadn't gotten used to its nakedness, you did not acknowledge its presence near you besides a small nod of your head.

"The village won't be too far from here," he tells you, eyes looking at the side of your head. You nod, "Good. I don't think I can handle being in the snow much longer." The creature hums, clawed hand rubbing its chin.

"I still never understood how man can be on top of the food chain despite being so weak," it speaks, "As far as I'm aware, it's slower that and weaker than the bigger animals here. It can barely manage to catch a bunny, and it cannot maintain its own heat for long. Man is hardly capable of living it seems."

You can tell he's trying to irk you, despite saving you less than 30 minutes ago. Instead you shoot back, "Well, man managed to catch you. Guess you're no better than a bunny."

You look at its dark eyes with a playful smile on your face. It sneers at your response and takes flight, snow hitting you on the way up.

For the remainder of the time, it ignores you until you see a faint light of fire. Getting closer, you can see the outlines of houses and hear the soft chatter of cattle.

You stop in your tracks, looking up in the sky for the monster to see what you needed from. You spot him on a nearby tree, eyeing the village with caution.

"Listen, prey, you are to find something suitable for the winter. Find decent food to keep yourself full, our journey is not over," he doesn't look at you as he speaks. You're too cold to shoot back, so you listen to his instructions and take your first few steps into the village.

It's smaller than you had originally though, and emptier. Save for the cattle, there was practically no soul here. You could tell there were people though, the lanterns were lit and there were stands with fresh meat and wool. How you were going to obtain all the things you need without anything to give was the million dollar question, but you knew what would be easiest.

Steal.

You yanked the cloth of the stands, running into the butcher shop to steal some meat. No one was keeping much of an eye on their stands, so it took a good few couple of seconds before you could hear them yelling. You bursts into the meat store, grabbing what your hands could manage trying to ignore the store owner's screaming.

You quickly exited the store, your ruckus was starting to wake up the village. People peeked their head out of their window and others even walked out of their house to see what was going on. It was embarrassing, especially when you had two big men and women that were most likely their wives chasing after you.

Adrenaline rushed in your veins as you continued your crime, grabbing a pair of wool trousers on your way out of the village. You ran into the forrest, the two couples not that far off your tail. Fuck, you think, I can't run with all this shit.

Just as you debate on dropping some of the items, a gust of wind blows past you. A whirl of leaves and snow create a wall between you and your chasers. You turn around to look at the conjured all, mouth agape.

"You fool, keep running!"

So you do, listening to the voice you know belong to the beast. It wasn't long until you could hear the couples screaming, but you still don't turn around.

"It's a demon!" "Devil's spawn! Go back from where you dwell incubus!" "Beast!" "Monster!"

You ignore all of what they say about your companion, running until your chest burns and feet give out. You fall into a soft pile of snow, chest heaving as you find comfort on plush coldness. The snow burns to the touch, but you're so tired that you're tempted to close your eyes and sleep.

The loud sound of flapping prevents that though, you sit up to find the creature not too far from you. You reach and grab the coat you stole, putting it on. You rub your upper arms with your hands, trying to get some blood circulation going. You eyes spot the trousers you stole. You reach for them and chuck it at the beast.

"Head up," you saw, and he catches it with ease. He grimaces at the clothing, as if it's the worse thing he's ever seen. "I will not wear your human clothes," its voice stern.

"Dude, I really don't wanna see your ding-a-ling swinging around," you tell him. "I dunno what type of...animal you are, but being a incubus doesn't give an excuse to-"

"Do not call me that, insolent human," it growls. It stalks closer to you, eyes narrowing on your form. "I saved you from those men, the cold, and from those villagers, You repay me by cursing my being and making me use my precious energy?"

You cower in fear, you stand no chance against a super being like him.

"I am called Nyryx, do not make the mistake of calling me anything else."

You nod, bottom lip quivering from fear and the cold. He looks at you a beat longer before rolling his eyes. Nyryx huffs exaggeratedly as he puts the trousers on, scrunching his nose as the wool touches his skin. He manages to get his bird feet though the holes, adjusting the top part at his waist. It fits.

He looks back at you, arms crossed. "Start a fire, you cannot eat raw meat. Not that I have to tell you that."

You gather some nearby sticks, ignoring how intense Nyryx's gaze is. He's judging you, silently. Are you grabbing enough sticks? Can these even be burned? How the hell can you start a fire in winter? You have a decent size pile before you look over at him, "I don't know how to start a fire."

He groans, "You are like a child. Not much better than a suckling on its mother's breast."

You cross your arms and shake your head, it's better to ignore his words. He crouches and arranges the sticks so it's in a teepee form. You watch and he bends down, mouth open as he breathes fire from his mouth. You gasp, taking a step away from the small flame the begins to come to life.

He stands back up, eyeing you. He's waiting for your reaction. What will you call him? Will you run? Curse him? Damn him to hell? Nyryx has been shunned for what he is all his life, his own parents cursing him. He balls his hands into a fist and unclenches his hand. He should not expect you to be any different. All humans are the same.

"Holy shit. So you're like a dragon?" you ask, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

He raises an eyebrow, "I don't think I've ever been called that. But no, dragons don't have magic like I."

"Magic," you repeat. Nyryx can't help but notice that way you say it, like it's unbelievable and impossible. What type of world have you come from?

He nods, "Yes. I'm aware that you're in need of a portal. I can conjure such thing, but I'm not at my strongest."

Your eyes gleam with hope, you could feel them start to water. Home, it sounds so close yet so far. Your emotion get the best of you, small tears fall down your cold cheeks. You can go home.

Before you have the chance to wipe them, Nyryx stands in front of you. His hands clasp the side of your face before he leans down, tongue poking out to taste your tears. You squeal at his hot tongue, smacking his chest. Memories come back of him licking your face when you had killed the Lord. You originally thought it's how he showed his thanks for opening the cage, but now you think it was a snack for him.

He pulls away, long tongue licking his lips. Nyryx suddenly lets your face go, leaving your body cold from his lack of touch.

"Fluids from creatures is not just a source of food, but power. The stronger the emotion, the more power I obtain. If I am to open the portal, you need to find me this food," he tells you.

You wipe your face from his salvia, nodding. "Any creature? Like animals?" He nods. It was a lot to take in, you assume fear would be the most influential emotion. You take a deep breath, you can do this. "I can't hunt," you confess, "I don't think I can do much to help."

He laughs bitterly, "I did not expect that you could. Humans have intense emotion, that will get me the power I need the fastest. You have to lure them to me so-"

"Absolutely not!" You yell without meaning to. "I'm not gonna do that. I'm not your pimp."

He furrow his eyebrows, "I understand that your human morals are at stake, but if being this...pimp...is what you need to do to get back home, that's what needs to be done."

You shake your head, "You said any creature. Do animals and cattle. I'll take cattle from villages and give them to you, plus it gives me meat to eat. Two birds with one stone."

Nyryx grows irritatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's detrimental that I have enough life force before the full moon. It is when my magic will be at its peak. We have a fortnight, do you really think there's enough cows and pigs for me?"

You don't know, it's a scary risk you're taking. But this beast, no, Nyryx is willing to help you. You don't know why, but he is. "Yeah, I can do it."

He sighs, showing his doubt in you, but he nods nonetheless. "Okay human, we will do things your way."

You smile softly, but then frown again, "Human is not my name."

"Human, cow, pig, bunny, it matters not. You are all prey to me."

-

Days carry on with you and Nyryx traveling from village to village. It was getting easier to walk in the snow, your body was slowly starting to adjust to the cold. Luring out animals was harder than you thought, they would sometimes run in the complete opposite direction from where you needed them to go. As if they knew what lurked for them in the snowy woods.

However, Nyryx was nonetheless pleased with your attempts. His behavior was getting better, his snarky comments weren't as frequent. He even started calling you by your name...sometimes. Perhaps he was just hungry all this time, you're not you when you're hungry after all.

However, you were getting uncomfortable sleeping in the snow. Though Nyryx provided fire and the occasionally body heat, you needed a bed. You two were huddled together, you shivering body pressed against his wing. He tucked you in close, but you can tell he was avoiding his arms from touching you.

"Please!" you beg. "Just for a few nights. I won't cause a ruckus and I'll get even more animals. I just need a bed." You were asking to sleep in a village for a night or two. It was a back and forth conversation, he would tell you it was too risky, but you were stubborn on this.

He sighs, you really weren't going to let this go. "Fine, but you owe me your tears."

The village you decide to stay the next few nights at is much more lively than the previous ones. It has people walking from store to store, stand to stand. You told Nyryx that you will find a nice family to stay with, they would pity you hopefully. You were going to purchase some gloves when you felt warm air. You turned your head to find a building, warmth emitting from it. The sound of laughter and talking was loud, you stepped inside.

It was a bar full of burly men and women carrying drinks and trays. It was so warm inside, you rubbed your hands together and took an empty seat on the bar. You had been to a few bars back at home, but this one felt like a family. It was clear this establishment was welcoming, the playful fighting across tables was proof enough of that.

Your eyes wandered before a pretty, older woman came up to you, hair in two braids with a warm uniform on.

"I suppose you're a traveler yes?" Her voice is pleasant, a pleasant smile on her lips. You nod. "Are you waiting for your husband? Where is your companion?"

You shake your head immediately, "Oh no, I travel alone." Her eyes widen and she softly gasps.

"Miss," her voice is hushed as she leans down to talk to you. "A lady should not be traveling alone. If someone asks, you must tell them you have a companion even if it's a lie."

You notice her sudden behavior change, she was protective, motherly. "Yeah, that's good advice. Thank you."

You end up telling her that you had gotten lost. That you came on ship across the sea, and somehow got separated from your family. You just needed an inn to stay at for a few nights and you would be on your way. Only some parts were a lie.

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry," her lips pout. "Should you need, my family is welcome to travelers, we house them upstairs."

You widen your eyes, sitting up straighter. This was easier than you thought. "Are you sure? I don't know much it costs but-"

She waves a dismissive hand, "No need. We need pretty workers like yourself to hustle these tables. Would would be alright?"

"Yes," you say immediately, "I can do that."

She smiles and claps her hands, "Thank heavens! I should introduce you to my family, they are upstairs."

You stand and follow her to the second story, your stomach flips in excitement. A bed! God how you missed such a luxurious thing. The lady open the door at the top of the stairs and holds it open for you.

You walk inside slowly, eyes scanning the area. The living room and kitchen are combined and you notice two little boys hitting each with kitchen utensils.

"Boys!" Their mother yells, walking past you. "I told you to play outside if you're going to fight! We have a guest."

You bite back a smile, heart swelling at the reminder of your mother.

"These are my sons. Aaron and Erik. They are quite the troublemakers. Should they bother you, please let me know," their mother says. "My daughter-oh! Pardon me, I am Meredith! How rude of me to invite you to my home without telling you my name. Please forgive me."

You let a small laugh escape, "Please don't worry, I'm-"

"You talk funny," one of her sons, Aaron you think, says. Meredith promptly smacks him on the back of the head making him cry out. "You wait until your father comes home," she threatens.

"My daughter," Meredith resumes, "is in her room. She prefers to...read the books she collects." The woman walks over to you and gives you a wary look. "Abigail, my daughter, she enjoys...reading books that young ladies should not read. I will not fib, I brought you here with hopes to get her head out of such treacherous writings."

You give her a questioning look, biting your lower lip in thought. Treacherous writing? Like pornography?

"You guys seems to be the same age, I just assumed you could influence her to help with the bar downstairs," Meredith finishes. Before you can answer, someone comes through the front door. You turn to see a giant of a man, snow on his facial hair.

"Oh dear," the mom says, "I offered this young lady a living space as payment for helping downstairs. Her name is..." Meredith turns back to you. "I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name."

end of chapter 2

[nyctohyloph0bia]

Factkin are valid idc.

If the general consensus of being 'kin is that it's "involuntary" and you "can't choose who you are", why the hell are people going after Factkin if they Don't try to steal identity, trick and/or manipulate people and in general try to use their identity for wrong? If they're Not doing that, why you givin' 'em shit? Even if they became or choose that identity?

Also... reincarnation from people that existed is like the most common belief..? That's how reincarnation works, when you die your soul goes into another body and is born again.

As for people that exist nowdays, either psychologically identify as their persona and public struggles. Or multiple universe, except oopsies, this soul ended up getting multiplied or ended up in a double situation. Can't that happen? If it can happen with Fictionkin, why can't it happen with Factkin? If fictotypes were real people in another universe, wouldn't that be the same as being factkin, just in our universe they come from fictional media?

- "Abyss" Lyro-Cyrus co-con.

[theresattrpgforthat]

Got anything that lets you play as monsters (vampires/monsters/etc) in the modern world in the vein of VTM? Ideally something in the PBTA/FITD area of system, but open to others for sure (: Thanks as always for your recs!!

THEME: Urban Monsters

Friend, the difficulty with this post isn’t that I don’t have recommendations for it - it’s that I’m trying to find recommendations that I haven’t talked about ad nauseam to this point. So I hope you don’t mind a fairly extensive “Past Recommendations” at the bottom of this post, because most of the PbtA games I know of are going to be there. I have limited experience with Vampire: the Masquerade, but I’m a big fan of Changeling: the Lost and other World of Darkness games, so I’m going off of general knowledge rather than specifics.

Bubblegum Vampires / Bubblegum Wizards 2, by Gormengeist.

You're a vampire in an infinite urban cauldron of muck and rot, of psionics and wizards, of danger and shadows. Though you are surely terrible, great, horrifying, (etc.), half the day is an enemy to your people; so set forth through the night to make your coin, secure your dwellings, and vanquish your infinite enemies.

You're a wizard who chews bubblegum and collects trading cards. That is to say, cards with the trapped souls of items and enemies within, obviously. An insignificant wizard in an infinite city has lots to prove and you've got to get help somehow. Break heads, steal money, drive stupid, chew gum, trap souls. Simple as.

Neon-Bright art and d6-based rolls, that’s what’s common across both of these games. This is the same world, but you’re living in two different spheres of it, depending on which game you play. As wizards, you collect spell cards that hold the souls of creatures you’ve vanquished, and use them to get yourself out of sticky situations. As vampires, you accrue vampiric powers through blood sacrifice, and your opponents are usually folks with especially tantalizing veins. Both games have various factions that have different goals than you, so if what you like about Vampire: the Masquerade is the amount of different ideologies that have the ability to fuck you up, you might like this game. Thematically, it looks a little more upbeat and pulpy than your typical V:tM game, but if you like one, you have another game in the same system ready to go.

The Hidden, by Dragons Are Real.

As children our parents read us fairy tales, ghost stories and recounted local myths. We’ve always assumed these stories are told to entertain or scare….what if these aren't just stories….everything you have been told is true. 

The creatures from fairy tales, mythology and folklore all exist.  Have you ever thought you saw something strange out of the corner of your eye but when you look again all looks normal. These creatures live in plain sight, unseen by the majority of people, only those who know they exist see them in their true form. Every culture has a name for these creatures but we know them simply as The Hidden.

The Hidden is a modern urban fantasy game powered by the Breathless RPG. It is inspired by such media as Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Constantine and The Dresden Files.

Another pulpy sort of game, the Breathless system that powers The Hidden is great for replicating diminishing resources, putting your characters in more and more difficult situations every time they pause to take a breath. This makes this game great for horror-style stories, and World of Darkness games firmly find a home in the horror genre. If you want something that’s fast-paced and can cover a lot of ground in a short session, The Hidden might be for you.

Tween Wolf, by Ibi Deficit Orbis.

Tween Wolf is a micro-RPG about middle schoolers experiencing both the fantasy of being exceptional, and the fear of being humiliated. As these kids come to terms with their awkwardly developing human bodies, they will also be faced with lycanthropy. And in the process they will experience supernatural heroism and intense shame—and learn to manage both.

It is designed to be played with a bent towards exploring the unforgiving social cruelty of middle school, self-image, and dysphoria. It requires one Game Master, 1 to 4 additional players, a few hours, one six sided die for each player, and two additional six sided dice for the table to share.

This is a very short game, with very few rules and a big focus on trying to keep your wild side under wraps. If what you like about WoD games is the struggle between the monstrous and the human, this might be the game for you. There’s not nearly as many big moral quandaries as there are in typical WoD games - you’re middle schoolers, not eons-old bloodsuckers - but to a middle-schooler, your problems are massive. I feel like the movie Seeing Red might be a good touchstone for this game.

Glamour of Our Youth, by Yuri Runnel.

Glamour of Our Youth is a roleplaying game based on the Forged in the Dark system. Drawing inspiration from media like Riverdale, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Chilling Adventures of Sabrina among others, it works to tell stories of supernatural teenage adventures.

Building on the FitD framework, Glamour serves to tell exciting stories with high stakes, putting the youths through their paces as they try to make their way through a strange and hostile world, struggling with conflicts both internal and external, arcane and mundane. 

This game doesn’t cast your characters as specific supernatural beings, but the character options certainly make it possible. You cobble your character together from two different halves: Archetypes and Arcana. Your Archetype hails from classic high school cliques, such as Rebel, Outcast, Socialite and Athlete, while your Arcana details your supernatural ability, including Shapeshifter (which might translate to werewolf), Oceancaller (which you could turn into a selkie) or Shadow (which feels rather ghost-like to me). There’s also plenty of ways to play a teenage mage.

This game is in playtest, but it’s considerably far a long, with recent updates that indicate that the crew is hard at work refining the final product.

Protect the Child, by MintRabbit (that’s me!)

Humans have always been protective of their young, sometimes overly so. Humans have also always feared that which might make their young strange or different, and so insist that only humans can raise their own young. Monsters cannot raise human young. This is known. You have a human baby. You cannot find its parents. What is even worse, is that this child has powers, powers that others covet, and so everyone wants it. If you want to prove that you’re not the heartless monster that everyone says you are, that means you’ll have to raise it, at least until you find someone who is better suited to it than you.  You are creatures of fur, scales and fangs. You have claws that can rend flesh, faces that can crack mirrors, howls that can cause ears to bleed.  And your charge wants a blankie.

Protect the Child is a Forged in the Dark game about monsters caring for a young human, a human who contains strange and mystical powers that make them a valuable asset in any monster crew. The setting and factions present in this game are flexible: you might be aliens in a far-flung future galaxy, fantasy monsters from rival kingdoms, or even everyday wild animals that fear human society. 

So I’ve only just started play testing this game, which means that it’s very much in barely-playable mode. This game is also setting-agnostic, meaning that you can decide exactly when and where your game takes place - including as modern-day monsters trying to take care of a human baby with magical powers. The game is very specific in the themes of the story you’ll be telling - that is, themes about monstrosity, parenthood and responsibility, but if you all want to play different kinds of vampires, you can absolutely do that!

BloodLite, by ruan8000.

BloodLite is a role-playing game (RPG) designed to be played solo, but can be played in a group. In this game, you will create a Vampire following the rules and you will also create the world that this vampire interacts with, as well as the conflicts and obstacles that he will face. The world in BloodLite is like ours, but a little darker and more dangerous, full of supernatural creatures.

This game has no ties to PbtA or FitD, but it cites Vampire: the Masquerade as a direct inspiration, and you can see it in the Bloodline options available at character creation. You have a supernatural gift that give you advantages and also trigger your Hunger, which is your character’s thirst for blood. The goals of the game are represented through an Oath track, which fills when you fight enemies, overcome obstacles, and solve problems. This a fairly stripped-down game, but if you’re familiar with V:tM, then you probably won’t have a problem filling the world with factions, back-alley deals, and political wars.

Hearts of Yokai, by Lowell Francis.

So, this game isn’t out yet. But I can’t stop myself from talking about it a little bit. It’s the product of a Changeling:The Lost PbtA hack that Lowell has been working on for a very long time. I’ve been a bit fan of Changeling: the Lost and I also love PbtA games so I’m really excited to see more of this.

The link in the title leads to the current google spreadsheets that detail the current content of the game and the associated playbooks. The link for Lowell is to a blog post he wrote about the game, talking about the history, the changes he’s made, and the ideas behind what the current iteration is. What really intrigues me is how it incorporates "the actions of the Gentry through the lens of colonialism.” I’m really eager to follow the progress of this game.

Games I’ve Recommended in the Past

Urban Shadows 1e, by Magpie Games.

Bite Marks, by Black Armada Games.

Monsterhearts 2e, by Buried Without Ceremony.

Strays, by kumada1.

Eldritch Investigative Drama Rec Post

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Day 13 — Christmas Market

Pairing || TFATWS!Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 700

Contents & Warnings || Fluff — no warnings.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Advent Calendar 2023

The city was draped in a winter blanket as you and Bucky strolled hand in hand through the enchanting pathways of the Christmas market. The aroma of roasted chestnuts, gingerbread, and spiced mulled wine wafted through the air. Wooden, rustic stalls were decorated with festive cheer—colorful ornaments, wreaths, and twinkling fairy lights. Seasonal melodies filled the air, creating a sense of community and celebration. People of all ages reveled in the festivities—culinary delights, shopping, and joyful activities. In this enchanting wonderland, with your lover by your side, a magical adventure awaited.

Bucky couldn't help stealing glances at you; your gloved hand fit perfectly in his as you leaned against his bicep. Your eyes twinkled from the lights that adorned the market and its stalls. The soft hues of the different colored lights cast an eternal radiance across your face, leaving Bucky breathless. He knew this season held a special place in your heart, and your happiness warmed his soul.

“What’s on your mind, doll? Where to first?” he questioned, brushing his lips against your temple.

“How about some hot chocolate first? Then, we can continue exploring. I want to take it all in with you by my side.”

Stopping at the nearest hot chocolate stand, Bucky ordered two steaming cups topped with a dollop of whipped cream. As you sipped the rich, chocolatey goodness, you leisurely strolled through the stalls, immersing yourselves in the holiday magic, savoring the sights, sounds, and scents surrounding you.

"We should get new decorations for our Christmas tree," Bucky suggested, his breath visible in the winter air as he gestured towards a stall selling handcrafted ornaments. The diverse pieces were stunning, each different and with intricate details that showed off the impressive craftsmanship. A figurine of a couple in a romantic embrace caught your eye. It would grace your tree, front and center, displayed proudly.

"This will be perfect for our tree, babe."

Cheesiness aside, Bucky embraced you just like the figurine, resting his forehead against yours. "It'll be the most perfect piece on the tree," he murmured, leaning in and sealing his words with a sweet kiss.

Continuing shopping, you stumbled upon a stall selling handmade scarves and mittens. With excitement, you suggested picking out matching scarves, a small gesture that would keep your hearts and bodies warm. Playfully trying on different colors—greens, reds, and blues—you settled on scarves that complemented each other perfectly.

"This will be so cute," you giggled, swapping the old ones for the new ones. A quick photo of you two with the recent purchase became your lock screen.

The aroma of freshly baked gingerbread cookies drew you to a nearby stall that called your names, and you couldn’t resist the allure, stomachs rumbling in hunger for delicious treats. Purchasing some, you found a cozy nook nestled in the heart of the market. Sitting on a bench, you snuggled close and enjoyed a tranquil moment as you munched on the warm, spiced cookies. The world around you melted away. The chilly air, the twinkling lights, and the cheerful tunes wrapped you in a cocoon of intimacy and magic.

"This is perfect," Bucky whispered, his gaze fixed on you.

You nodded, a fulfilled smile playing on your lips. "It is," you purred, brushing your lips with his. "But with you, babe, it's beyond magical."

As the evening progressed, the market became even more enchanting. The towering Christmas tree in the center of the square twinkled with holiday colors, drawing you both into its mesmerizing glow.

Underneath the branches, Bucky drew you tightly to him, gently cupping your cheeks and gazing into your shimmering eyes. You got lost in your shared intimacy, relishing in your touch and gazes.

"This has been one of my favorite evenings with you, doll."

His declaration made your heart stop and then beat again with intensity. After all these years, you found yourself falling in love all over again with each moment spent with him—his touches, his words.

“I love you, Bucky.”

“I love you, doll. Forever and beyond.”

Your lips met in a tender kiss, a delicate connection that spoke louder than words—time stood still as you shared the sweetness of the kiss, a moment that felt like a scene from a holiday romance movie.

The Christmas market had become a tapestry of shared experiences, laughter, and love—a night etched into your memories as a chapter in your forever love story.

Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

I don’t do taglists so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

[riseofamoonycake]

hi there, can you pls write some more about Indra x reader (NSFW version)? ////v//// Thank u sm and have a gud day/night <3

I don’t know why, but whenever you send me requests about someone related to the Hindu Pantheon, this happens: 13 pages of story. 

ANYWAY, thank you for your patience!

The Voice I Love

⚔️Pairing: Indra x Gn!reader

⚔️Warnings: mention of sex (penetration, fingering, oral), kinks (body worship, praising kink, nipple play), violence, death

⚔️

Close your eyes, take a deep breath.

Exhale.

Inhale, and exhale again.

Listen to the sound that comes from the world around you… feel every leaf that grows on the oak trees, every grain of sand between your toes, every animal’s cry that demands respect… you are as sensitive as a newborn baby.

You have the power to become anything, fire or arrow, mercy or despair.

Now, sing what you see.

Sing what you are.

Commander of Terrors,

We pray for your voice: bring Death with you.

They teach you this mantra every time: every battle, every awake, every breath. They tantalize your soul with whispers, they kneel before you but you are a mere tool in their hands: you are their precious slave, not their deadly leader.

You are a thing, the most dangerous artifact in our world, the saddest creature men can see. You are nothing… so how could you choose what to become?

They are driving you insane, inspiring you thoughts that don’t belong to your mind, bending you down under a new form of torture: you can’t run away, no shelter, no sanctuary for a monster like you. You deserve only one destiny, the infinite circularity of blood spilled out. And unfortunately for you, there is always a war where you are called upon to dominate.

The voice: this is the cause of your unhappiness. It is all in the voice, in the language that allows it to express itself, in the vocal cords imbued with magic, enchantment and beauty, which make you less human and more like a dream creature, the emanation of a siren or the fruit of an union with one of them.

The voice… your every word is a curse, it is a command and an illusion: reality can only obey you, and you too must bow down to it. You are only a means that allows it to express itself, it is not up to you to decide anything; and the tyrants and warlords who, one after the other, keep you tightly in their grip make sure that you always keep this in mind, pulling at the strings of your weaknesses but being very careful not to break them.

Don’t ask about your family, your people and the man you loved, you don’t need them and they don’t need you. Your skills cannot be tied to a common life… you would always be someone’s prey.

Do you love the sea? Do what we tell you, and you will see it.

Try to think what dominion you have on the battlefield: everyone reveres you, fears you, you are the strongest. A single word is enough for you to bring victory, you are contested by the strongest, a divinity; is this not enough for you? Isn’t that enough for you?

No, it is not enough for you, because that is not what you want. You repudiate the sight of blood and death, stealing the lives of others and tormenting create a inside of you a nausea so strong that, after each fight, you really convince yourself that you must die, that it will not be possible for you to see a new day, you had overcome any limit; but it never happens, no one brings you this relief.

At least please, Great Gods... make this the last battle for me. Tear me apart, pierce me, here, here is my head, take it! Tear out my tongue, cut my throat, please, no more torment. I want to die. I want to be free in the wind, to beg forgiveness of the innocent souls I’ve reaped. One wish, one wish... givers of honors and fears, please hear my enchanting voice and come to me. I want your destructive hand on me… I want to be devoured by you.

Your prayers are always heartbreaking and could move even the strongest stones, yet you have now come to a conclusion: even if the gods exist, they don’t care about you at all. They don’t love you or they are so angry at your actions that they don’t realize that you are just a victim, the first in a long line. And you have to be careful, because the voice is your worst enemy, like a sentient being it knows your thoughts and prevents you from realizing your desires: it deceives you, it threatens you, it denounces your every action, it is your jailer and torturer; it hates you as badly as you hate it, and it never gives you a chance to hope.

Even today, at the dawn of yet another clash, your throat burns with the desire to incinerate the earth around you, to kill and push to kill, torture, wring out prayers and cries, bring you to your knees, bend to his will; and you are feeling the weight of his desires in the already damp and tense morning, motionless but restless. The air is heavy and electric, a thunderstorm is approaching from the east along with a sun that is as bright as it is huge, supernatural: they seem to guide each other, and for a long moment you stand watching the dark clouds frolicking with the warm golden rays without covering them, just obscuring the world.

Standing at the entrance to your tent, your armor not yet worn but your throat well covered by the gold plates that permanently cover it, you stare at what is happening in the sky with surprise and a slight awe, seeing something inside it that there shouldn’t be. It is a sky only the gods can see, so why is it here, for you? What is happening, who is approaching?

The city you see before you, enclosed by walls, black and threatening like a creature in ambush, must fall; this is the order that comes from outside and within you. However, in addition to feeling the usual loathing towards yourself, today you also feel the terror coursing through your veins as strongly and increasing as the storm advances. You don’t have to take another step, because something horrific awaits you on the other side; it is necessary for you to find a way to escape… even if you know that this is impossible, and you just have to turn your gaze and meet the pleading and fearful eyes of the army, already ready and eager to finish the fight as soon as possible to leave from that wicked place, to confirm it. Trembling with tension and confused, you return to the tent to be armed: the plates around your throat jingle merrily while the attendants enclose your body in a steel wall, unlike you they do not have fear and are only interested in protecting the strongest and bloodiest weapon this land has ever seen.

Even if today the words cause you twice as much suffering, your throat still wants to pronounce them and that is what it commands you: and as soon as you climb the hill overlooking the plain where the city stands, a single voice snakes through the air, a deep sigh that shakes the trees and sweeps the towers, bringing complete silence among men and into the sky. As you take a breath and close your eyes, sinking into the darkness of your sins and asking for forgiveness for the umpteenth time, the spell begins.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale, and exhale again.

When you start to sing your poignant and irresistible melody, a song so hypnotic and wild that it turns the eyes of the stars in your direction and forces the animals to bend down in front of you, Death approaches; you feel It coming, Its steps are clear and deep and the ground resounds with them while its icy breath brushes the back of your neck, and even if you don’t see It you know that It is passing by you to continue towards the city. Soon your ears are struck by the clang of weapons and armor clashing against each other, by the screams of men who conquer and fall, by the invocations of the most disparate entities and by the sound of the blackest fear; your nostrils fill with the smell of blood, a hot and ferrous river that rushes along the city walls ― you know it is like this even if you insist on keeping your eyes closed ―, and even if you don’t want to inhale it deeply, you do it continuing to sing. The stench of flesh burnt to the bone soon comes to keep him company.

But we didn’t light fires… we don’t burn.

Such awareness makes your eyes widen as it penetrates the brain, putting you on alert; and when your gaze manages to fix itself on the plain, it is already too late.

Run.

Stunned, unable to react or even think, you stare at the army of which you are part being hit by the storm, which however does not even touch you with a drop of water, and being reduced to ashes by the power of the fastest and most violent lightnings you have ever seen; the trembling of the lightning-lashed ground and the roar of heavenly rage makes you flinch, but you cannot escape, such is the horror and terror you feel.

Get out of here.

Only your voice persists, it doesn’t give up like you and still continues to impose itself: in doing so, it attracts the attention of the storm, which calms down with the same impetus with which it arrived, leaving only silence.

And in the immobility, someone approaches: someone is looking for you, starting to go up the hill. In the absolute absence of motion, your heart beats like a drum, making you the perfect prey.

Run!

«I have to leave… I have to flee!», you scream inside yourself, digging your nails into the palm of your hand to push the body to shake itself and managing only to crawl a few steps. You are trembling all over, you know whatever awaits you is going to be scary, there is no going back now, «I can’t… I can’t stay…»

Hurry, hurry!

You freeze again, stiffening and eyes widening in surprise, feeling a presence behind you. You dare not turn or look: it is the end now. Whoever he is, so tall that he totally covers you with his shadow and engulfs you like a black hole, you know he is stronger than you: and his gaze is mad, piercing and daggering your soul, his powers unimaginable. His vengeance, ruthless. And yet… a feeling.

Finally, a god did indeed answer your prayers, but not in the way you wished. And yet… a memory.

«Found you…»

The last thing you hear before passing out is the thunderous sound of a lightning, so close to you that it sends jolts of pain throughout your body, and a low, fiery roar into your ear. Below, in the heart of the soul, a flicker of happiness and emotion.

⚔️

Finally, I have found you.

In your eyes, wide open with horror and the rain that has now begun to flood them, Indra reads all the fear that tyrants, sorcerers and slimy humans have managed to instill in your innocent body and mind, and his fury erupts in lightning and thunder without equal, reducing to ashes the whole plain and those who had somehow managed to escape his previous blows: how could they, how? Who helped them in this?

Your body feels heavy in his arms: not from the armor that covers you from head to toe, not from the fact that you fainted the moment you saw him and now lie abandoned against his chest, but because of those cursed gold plates that lock your throat, so full of poison that brown liquid oozes on his skin, burning his fingers just to try to ward off the only entity capable of fighting them. The black spell that your torturers have instilled in the metal battle after battle, the spell that forces your voice to obey their wishes, creaks and hisses every time the god’s hands try to touch the plates: they are afraid, they know they are in danger, and threaten to turn against the only weakness that the Lord of Lightning possesses, ready to squeeze your throat until it takes your breath and with it your life.

«Y/N… Y/N, if you can hear me, I’m here. If your soul recognizes me, rest assured, I will not abandon you», Indra murmurs, refusing to let you go and instead wrapping his arms around you better. He is not used to holding you, not with these features: you, before, didn’t inhabit the body you occupy now, and since you are unconscious, he can’t know if you feel pain at his every touch; but it is you. Even if with another appearance, he could never be wrong. Not after all this time.

«The sea… someone take me to see the sea. I can’t take it anymore…» Your voice is a whisper, it is the last prayer you raise to heaven; but this time, the only god you have always unconsciously called answers, he is not so far from you and forcibly separated from your shadow that he doesn’t hear you. No spell can make him more deaf to your weeping.

«Y/N… hold on, hold on for me», Indra murmurs in your ear, taking you away from the battlefield. He is not the calm, unflappable, reassuring god you knew long ago; this Indra is consumed with anger and hatred, with relief at having you held again and with tension. Merciless: it is the only adjective to define his eyes that sparkle, his mouth with squealing teeth and the sound of his footsteps so similar to a war drum. It is a lion, an animal without sense and made only of ferocity, which roars and silences even the clouds.

The only one who isn’t scared of him is you, who snuggles and rubs your cheek against the tattoos on his chest, seeking warmth. You are unconscious, yet you feel safe now; and this gives him the strength to continue advancing, wide strides that allow him to cover entire kilometers in a few moments, directed towards the smell of the sea and the rustling of its waves. «We are almost there», he murmurs while keeping you constantly under observation, «rest, now I’ll take care of you.»

You obey instinctively, calming down and leaving everything to him; you sink into a black void of thoughts and sensations, a warm and dense pond that keeps you safe, removes all noise and envelops you like a cradle. In that emptiness you rest for a long time, until the rustle of a wave penetrates your mind and slowly brings you back to reality together with the sea’s parfum and the fresh breeze that ruffles your hair like a rude but benevolent caress.

You open your eyes slowly, taking a deep breath, and stare at the blue sky, just dotted by some clouds, above you. You are no longer on the plain, but in a completely new world, where war has never arrived: only foam, blue depths, animals and flowers with a stunning scent. A flight of seagulls and their call catches your attention, and you instinctively throw your head back to follow them; and that is when your neck collides with the softness of a hand, and suddenly, like coming out of a dream, you realize you are in someone’s arms.

Strong fingers support and massage your arms and back, a benevolent face partially hidden by messy white hair is leaning over you, and the splendid gaze, vivid and rolling as if instead of eyes there were two stars, observes your every reaction and plants itself in yours, waiting. While you stare at it in silence many questions arise, but very little fear: there are sensations that prevent you from having any, and the chest against which you are leaning your cheek… those designs engraved on the skin and on the forearms...

I know you. I know who you are… even if I can’t explain how. But I know you, and I’m not afraid of you. «You visit my dreams every night, together with the sea», you murmur with a note of rapture and surprise, «your face, your tattoos… you keep me company through all the storms, you never leave me when I’m scared. I don’t know… or rather, I don’t remember your name, but I know you, you are a mighty and great god, and my heart cries out for you. You have always been with me.»

Indra is no god who weeps, not a tear furrows his cheek; but he has other ways of expressing his emotions, and you can tell it from the fold his mouth takes, his lips parted and trembling and his eyes narrowed. «Welcome back to me, Y/N. Now fear no more, I’m with you again.»

«Y/N? Why are you calling me that? I have another name...» You hesitate, then frown, «or rather, I’ve always been called by a different name. Certainly not with the calm and affection with which you are doing it.»

Indra doesn’t answer right away: first he touches your plates, and you both immediately hear them hiss and moan, almost writhing in revulsion and terror. A light pressure on your throat indicates that one of them has pulled back to grip your skin, but before you can tell, he is slipping a finger between it and your neck, shielding you from contact with the metal. «You may not know it, but Y/N is the name of the creature I loved millennia ago, now… and it is your name, because her voice and her soul are present within you.» A foul-smelling whiff, the stench of burnt flesh, hits your nostrils making you dizzy; with consternation you realize that it is Indra’s fingers that are burned, poisoned by the spell that soaks the gold. «They took and killed her just to get her voice and the abilities associated with it. They ripped out her vocal cords to implant them in human bodies and transform them into weapons to be exploited at will... without any mercy. Without me being able to do anything.»

You hold your breath, your eyes filled with tears from the smoke rising from his hand; moment after moment, while the god’s anger wins every spell at the cost of his own blood and the plates give way under his pressure, falling to the ground like leaves and allowing you to breathe freely for the first time since you were born, the tension completely abandons your shoulders and you find yourself with your head resting on his shoulder, your chest rising and falling continuously and your eyes planted on Indra’s fingers, tortured and dripping dark drops. «My lord…», you murmur without thinking about it ― but deep down you know why, you know ―, grabbing his hand and bringing it to your mouth, smearing yourself with scarlet as you rub your fingers against your lips, then pressing them to your chest, «my sir, and now how can I ever thank you? First you save me from my tormentors, then you free me from my sentence… how am I going to repay you?»

«The curse is over forever», the god murmurs, pointing to the twisted plates with a bitter grin, «and what you suffered has all paid off. You don’t owe me anything.»

«No, it is not true.» To Indra’s surprise, you free yourself from his grip and, leaping to your feet, you kneel in front of him: your hands don’t want to leave his, they squeeze them again while your gaze searches for him. Even if you know you are being rude, your prayer to him is the most heartfelt you have ever asked. «That’s not true, because it’s not over yet: they killed someone you loved to steal her voice and transform me, and only you know how many others before me, into a damned creature. What am I in the end? What importance do I have? Sink your fangs into my flesh and tear it apart, as I have long prayed. I’m ready, I’m not afraid of the consequences. I deserve it and you deserve it too… that way, no one will have to suffer anymore. Do not think it is all over: more accursed tools may be forged, and as long as I have this voice I will always be in danger.» Now it is you who speaks: there are no reminiscences, there are no memories. It is you with your fears, with what they forced you to live, and everything you feel for Indra is kept at bay by terror. You don’t even know who you are, after all… before you were convinced you were just a tool, and now you discover that you possess what remains of another entity. How can you accept the words Indra offers you, the love you feel pulsing under his skin? He is here but not for you, he is talking to what he sees in your eyes. It is not you he is loving, but who you enshrine. «Don’t hold back any longer… do what you have to, please. You cannot ignore my plea now.»

The god doesn’t say anything; first he looks at you for a long time, digging deep into your soul with his swirling eyes, then he frees himself from your grip. The fingers no longer bleed, not a scar covers them, and they are still when they rest on your head, to then descend along your face and caress every feature of it, massaging the cheeks, passing the mouth, following the shape of the eyes, and blowing hard.

You close your eyes instinctively, jolting for an instant; and immediately feel.

You feel that you are not the first to have met the god on your way; you feel that although bad luck has persecuted those who have loved, he has never given up on looking for them. You feel that Indra has loved them fully, deeply, forever; and not because they are containers of the partner he has lost, but as their own identities, people infused with memories but with their souls. You feel that there have been more fortunate entities, not tied to the fate that binds you to those who received the curse before you; but now he is talking about you. You as a person, you as a heart, which can only beat with your feelings, for who you are. The memories you feel smell of songs, laughter and sweetness, but they can’t be your whole person: you are the one who lives, you are the one who feels them and sees the beauty in them. It is you who, now, can decide for yourself.

«Great Indra…», you murmur, recognizing a face and a name, a power and a blessing; and you cling to those hands that now caress your neck and the purplish spots where the plates used to grip tightly, taming your desire; and you sink your face against your chest where the marks seem to open wide and welcome you, engulf you to shine with the light that now you can emanate without fear or limitation.

«Do you still want to die, Y/N? After all this… do you really want to leave?»

You shake your head slightly, feeling tears prick your eyes. Indra repeats the question close to your lips, almost breathing into you, and you deny again; and then you let everything happen, desiring it, calling it to you. If you have to start knowing yourself, everything has to start from here.

⚔️

Tear me apart.

Your deep breaths are capable of overcoming even the impetus of the sea, with all its boiling, breaking and screaming. Lying on the beach and completely naked, a short distance from the waves, under Indra’s hands your flesh looks like clay so much it vibrates and tenses, twists and relaxes, your legs now desensitized by the shivers and tremors that are going through them.

Well planted between them, his fingers holding your thighs in an iron grip, the god licks and sucks your intimacy, wrapping his tongue around the most sensitive points or letting it penetrate deeper and deeper, attacking and tormenting everything he finds, testing your ability to endure. Arms abandoned around your face, you can do nothing against the overwhelming sensations you are feeling: your mind is won, they destroy every barrier, they tear you apart until you are reduced to crumbs. And you love this fall.

Your prayer is being fully heard.

Pierce me.

«Great Indra… please, please!»

Indra thrusts into you one more time, enjoying every moan and prayer that escapes your lips and pressing you closer to his chest, without allowing you escape, rest or pity. Sitting on his lap, arms on his shoulders and legs around his waist, his breath in your ear steals yours. The penetration becomes more and more decisive, slow but hungry: the god’s body is thirsty and at the same time eager to pour all the pleasure you can hold inside you, and his urgency is expressed in the way he bites your lobe ear or sinks his teeth into his neck, greedily clenching the flesh and digging it with his nails, scratching and leaving a constellation of red marks wherever he passes.

Years of absence and distance make him feel an almost painful desire, which is consumed with the violence of a hurricane; never in your life have you felt something like this and you don’t want to see the end of it, not while you are in his arms.

Rip off my tongue, cut my throat.

Your voice dies when Indra caresses your neck and leaves a trail of soft and small kisses, to then seek nourishment in your collarbones and further down, towards your chest that rises to meet him. His hands that grip your hips, yours that squeeze his head sinking into the snow-colored hair, you let him play with your nipples and bite and tug at them like an inexperienced child, moaning and fidgeting but without even thinking about telling him to stop. How could you? You don’t even have the breath left to murmur to him how much heaven he is giving you right now…

A bite stronger than the others, settled in the hollow between the neck and shoulder, makes you squeak like a little mouse, and Indra laughs: a low, deep and vibrant laugh, which could sound both threatening and heralding something important to you. The sensation of something liquid running down your hair makes your eyes widen in surprise, as does the sight of the god licking his freshly reddened lips. «Forgive me… the occasion was too tempting not to take advantage of it. And your blood is delicious.»

A second laugh; this time, all for the blush that has flushed your cheeks, which are not spared from all the bites and marks with which Indra intends to make you his again and again.

I want your destroying hand upon me. I want to be devoured by you.

«Everything is fine, my beloved Y/N?»

You won’t be able to do without his hands: now that you know them, you won’t be able to get rid of them. His bronze fingers dance through your hair and grab it to expose your neck, and here you let his mouth intervene.

«Now you are mine again, don’t worry about anything else…»

You moan softly and gasp as the god shifts position and puts you on all fours, then covers you with his body. You shiver all over as you feel his chest and abdomen rubbing against your back and his erect member seeking relief inside you again, but you truly lose yourself when one of his hands slides along your shoulder and caresses your arm with the tips of his fingers, to then rest on yours and squeeze them tightly, sinking in the hot sand; the other caresses your chest and belly in continuous movements, making your eyes tremble with pleasure. His shadow is your only dress, his lips on the back of your neck and shoulder your jewel, his hands your armor, the only one you desire for all your life.

Finally, yes, all your prayers have been answered.

[chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter]

Well... I was having brain riot and making fun of Sanzu's silliest moment ever (the train xD), because I always thought it was hilarious that he planed something so chaotic that could go so wrong so easily (yeps, ignoring the implications of who he was willing to sacrifice for Mikey). And suddenly, I thought "What if no one stopped him and everything went the worst way possible?"

And bam, this drabble was in my mind and I needed to write it and share this pain. I'm so sorry.

Hits Different

(this is a train wreck)

(drabble)

(link to ao3 in case some one preferes to read it there)

Summary: Apparently, when it comes to the Sanos a train wreck and a plane crash aren't that different.

Warnings: Manga Spoilers. Angst. Hurt/No Comfort. I'm pretty sure the summary itself is a big warning of where this is going. Expect only pain and a broken Sanzu. I'm so sorry, really.

(English is not my first language, so be nice please 🙈)

Sanzu looks around, a big grin on his face. He did it, he managed to derail the train and ran over the pests that dared to compare themselves to his king.

Their irritating noise sounds a lot better turned into screams while he walks katana in hand, admiring his work. A familiar pink hair tries to steal his attention from the corner of his eye, but Sanzu doesn't stop. He's an only child, why would he care to check if she's even breathing?

There is only one thing that matters, only one focus on his mind amongst the bloodshed that he created. Mikey. Making Mikey proud, being finally acknowledged for what he's capable of doing. Earning his rightful place next to the king.

Sanzu turns his head when he hears an annoying voice screaming. Hanagaki. That fucking cockroach survived. He approaches to him, clenching his hand around the katana, decided to finish the job.

He's going to do it, he feels the adrenaline, a smirk plastered on his face now that he's finally close enough. Close enough to recognize the blonde head sticking out of Hanagaki's arms.

No.

No. It can't be. No, no, no, no. How? This can't be, Mikey was on the top of a container, he planed everything, he made sure, he... No, no, no!

Suddenly, reality hits him and Haruchiyo's world comes crashing down. Whatever delusion was feeding his mind disappears, he can't breathe. He looks around gasping for air and all he can see is blood, body parts scattered around. People screaming in pain, the smell of death.

Wakasa. Benkei. Senju.

Senju.

It's a fucking carnage and it's his fault. This was what he wanted. But it wasn't, it wasn't, this is not what it was supposed to happened. Why is this happening?

Haruchiyo's body collapses, his legs don't answer him anymore. The katana falls to the ground next to him. He pukes, completely horrified by the views. He's breaking, shaking, crying, unable to control himself.

“Mikey... No... He wasn't supposed to be down here...Mikey...”

His voice is weak, the words don't even make sense between whimpers. But Hanagaki looks at him, still hugging Mikey's body, something indiscernible in that pair of eyes that burns Haruchiyo's soul.

“Mikey isn't dead, he's still breathing. He was on top of that container, but he fell when the train...” Hanagaki stops, seemingly trying to pull himself together. “Mikey fell and hit his head. I'm gonna take him to the hospital, you can help or get out of my way, I don't fucking care anymore, but I'm taking him to the hospital. Are we clear?”

Haruchiyo just nods, allowing the hero to pass next to him with Mikey's body hanging on his arms. A chill runs down his spine when he feels it. When he feels that again. In that exact moment, he knows. Mikey is never going to wake up, he will whiter for years before finally dying.

'Laugh, Haruchiyo'

A maniacal laughter escapes his mouth. The universe is mocking at him, the cycle repeating itself.

It was always going to end like this, wasn't it?

[ystrike1]

Savage Fang Ojou-Sama - By Akaishi Kaoru (6/10)

This level of shameless wish-fulfilment should be illegal. Would you like an adorable prince fiance that sees you as his God and Master? What about a foreign princess who would love to seduce you just as much? Don't tell me the main character isn't a vessel for the reader. Our Duchess has the reincarnated soul of a powerful mercenary, who vows to run the nation better than the corrupt and evil original Duchess. His personality is Nice Guy, or should I say Nice Girl? Try not to take this one too seriously.

Mylene sucked. She was born with special powers and she abused them. The powerful neighboring Empress, Collette, eventually took her down. She was a complete loser who used her status as "someone beloved by God" to steal from the poor. She caused an uprising with her spending. Her marriage to the Prince was supposed to bring prosperity, but she brought forth nothing but hatred.

Mercenary Guy knows everything. He fought in the war against Mylene. He saw her drug addiction. Her debauchery. Her obsession with being special. The Empress appeared, after the execution, and said it would have been better if Mylene was like him. Why? Well he was a very skilled fighter. Literally one of the last men standing right before Mylene finally met her end. Collette thought it was a waste that God's Power went to a lazy cow.

Only a warrior should possess such power.

Then Mercenary Guy woke up in Mylene's body. It's been a year and Empress Collette was correct. Mylene is now a national treasure, valued for her beauty and sword skill. She still has the soul of a man though, so everything is a bit awkward.

She can't avoid Albert. Her fiance is the beloved Heir and Prince. Politics is politics. New Mylene must marry a boy and have children. Also her father isn't really a villain, but he is obsessed with using Mylene for power.

Mylene is the most beautiful bachelorette in the world. She MUST marry the prince.

The Prince, Albert, is a mousy little milksop who gets spoiled by everyone. Including his father, because he's gorgeous. One of the few people more gorgeous than Mylene.

Mylene, who is still conflicted because of her internal gender, decides to act rude and crass on purpose. She wants Albert to get angry and pick someone else.

So she beats the tar out of his favorite knight.

She also says he should stop relying on magic from God to support the nation.

The writing isn't exactly subtle.

Albert is floored by her power. He wants to be cool like her. He starts to worship her instead of God.

Their dynamic is basically this.

Mylene trains him.

He compliments her constantly.

He stalks her a little.

The blatant worship comes later.

Collette duels with her.

Collette decides Mylene is worthy of her love and attention. Collette is the second strongest fighter on the continent.

Collette also basically proposes to Mylene.

There's an academy arc, because of course there is.

Mylene puts on a short skirt, and she starts beating up bullies. The royal academy is full of them, and they all want to fight her. They also don't know who she is???? Even though she's famous and the Prince is her fiance??? It's very dumb. Mylene just beats up bully fodder for like ten chapters it's nuts.

She's mine!!!!

No she's mine!!!!!

Grrrrrrrrrr!!!!!

Bark! BARK! Bark! Mylene is the best and I spend all day following her around bark!

I don't think Albert and Collette are especially GOOD yanderes, but they are obsessed with Mylene to a ridiculous degree.

The plot is Mylene always wins.

That is all.

[occasionalsnippets]

Most death related SCP's can sense that Mc is there, but only a few can actually see them, and even then, it's barely. 343 can not see them or relatively sense them, 343 can feel the eyes on him but not much else (some moments are better than others). No one can hear them though unless they can read lips

~◇~◇~◇~

Mc has to tell their counterpart what to write down or supply them with notebooks, so Mc can write it themselves

~◇~◇~◇~

During breaches, it's awkward if someone else is with them during the Breach (as always, but their counterpart can't actually talk to them) so it's more like "No no, do not go down there we tried that way 3 deaths ago", "Do not listen to him, in fact please get away from him, I will ditch you if you don't" (They were with a newbie during the breach), "Keep an eye on Bright (a few minutes later) I said keep an eye on Bright! You lost him!" "No don't pick up the amulet. We don't need our soul to be wonky... I don't care. just steal his key card already he's not using it!" "Man I wish I could kill people" "Why is 408 here? Is Kondraki on sight? Why were we not informed of this!" "I miss our old life even if it was boring, it was better than having to babysit Bright and Clef" "is 408 trying to land on me? Wait- can they see me!?" "To your right, yeah, no clue how you didn't see that"

~◇~◇~◇~

For the other doctors (Bright, Clef, literally anyone who meets them), they just see their co-worker space out at times, nod when no one said anything, mumble something to ¿someone? Ect

~◇~◇~◇~

Mc can float a few feet off the ground. And change their form (took a while to figure it out) to something more scary (how their body looked after a few days / when someone found their body (Asumming it took a while)) but they have no reason to unless they stumble across an Undead thing, or just to scare their counterpart for fun

~◇~◇~◇~

I have no clue what I should call Mc's counterpart other than Counterpart, and if I ever try to go into how people see the counterpart (which I probably won't... maybe) it's a bit weird (when I referred to the counterpart as 'their co-worker')

-💮

owo

[emerald-onion]

Things Dr. Ink Is Not Allowed To Do At The Foundation, by Dr. Dream (WIP)

Stop teaching Agent Blue swear words.

Not even in different languages.

Spike the coffee machine with laxatives is not only gross but also immoral.

Don't the SCP file as your personal notebook. How many times do I have to say this?

Try to convince everyone that SCP-404 is 'a big softie inside' is just plain suicidal.

Answer "What the fuck do you want?!" with "Your SOUL" is right out.

Stop telling everyone your paintbrush is secretly a staff member.

Stop telling a staff member they are secretly a paintbrush.

"I forgot!" is not and will never be an excuse for nearly killing all of your co-workers.

And neither is "They didn't pass the vibe check".

Nor "They shouldn't have eaten the last muffin".

Rolling up to someone with a trenchcoat and saying "I have brought the goods" isn't as hilarious as you may think.

Don't tell the new recruits that SCP-99 will adopt them if they call it 'Nootmare'.

Don't tell people that your medicine is drug.

Don't hide drugs in your medicine. Trust me, I'll know.

Showing SCP-404's shitty Undernovela's knock-off was fun one time and one time only, and that was before it destroyed our entire west wing.

Don't give Agent Blue candies.

Don't give Agent Blue honey.

Don't give Agent Blue cake-pop.

Don't give Agent Blue any kind of sugar, period.

No, "What have you done?" is a desperate plea for you to stop, not "Please continue".

There is not any SCP Dating Simulator. There has never been a SCP Dating Simulator.

Not even in Japan.

And no, this isn't a suggestion to make one.

Dr. Ink is not the God of Creation. Not even if your cult says so. Since when did you have a cult in the first place?

Stop submitting your paperwork in the back of a Kung Fu Panda DVD.

Stop stealing SCP-404's chocolate.

Stop hiding SCP-404's remote control.

Stop rearranging everything in SCP-404's containment cell by one inch to drive it insane.

Stop messing with SCP-404, I beg of you.

Drawing SCP porn on the Foundation walls is strictly forbidden.

Don't tell Agent Red this world is a shitty crossover fanfiction and everything he knows is fake.

Don't tell Agent Red that he and Agent Blue are the clones of Dr. Sans.

Yes, I know that it's possible, Agent Cross is standing right there, but stop giving him an existential crisis, please.

Don't tell Agent Blue his action figures are alive and they're silently screaming for him to break them from their inanimate prison.

Don't call Agent Blue Berrybaby specifically to piss him off.

Don't convince Agent Blue Santa Clause is real and he just needs to go to Antarctica to find him.

Seriously, leave the poor guy alone.

No spilling melted chocolate on someone and telling them it's SCP-99's goop.

Stop trying to wear high heels to make yourself taller. You broke your fucking leg, Dr. Ink.

Didn't I order you to stop messing with SCP-404? Why do I see a giant graffiti of SCP-404 in a cat hoodie in front of its containment cell?

SCP-404's dolls are not made of the remains of its dead victims. It has already been terrifying enough already, stop fanning the flame even more.

Yes, you have a bad memory. No, even that won't make you forget the large fire you start in the cafeteria 10 seconds ago.

The Foundation exists to protect the people, not a big conspiracy to control everyone's mind.

There is no such thing as a Reset button. Stop saying that every time you mess something up.

SCP-99 cannot be pacified with a lullaby. Don't tell the other scientists that. We're short on staff already.

Playing your flute at three in the morning is just plain creepy.

The Foundation does not have a dress code. Especially not 'Maid uniform'.

I know you still meet up with SCP-90 sometimes. I don't know how, but I know. For God's sake, Ink! He's a freaking body-snatching parasite!

You're absolutely not allowed to knock on the D-personals' door and tell them "It is coming. There's nothing you can do to stop it."