#personally think that he’d rather be some creature than a human

[fl3a-bag]

My take on Bills design, based off him being called a Space Demon

He’s just possessin’ a deer skull and a puppet Ford had made him

[hauntedbythefanficsofmypast]

Not so Fake

Masterlist

Tim stationed himself in the third sitting room in the Manor. It was the closest to the kitchen, and furthest from the bedrooms and entrance of the manor. In other words, the perfect hiding spot from his overactive family that have united to try and make Tim rest. The only member that would find him right away would be Alfred, who already left him a cup of tea with a few of his cookies along with one of his laptops.

A note left on top stating that Alfred expected him to actually relax, and spotting the stickers Tim could tell this was his personal laptop. Taking Alfred seriously, Tim booted up YouTube and decided to watch his new favorite, GalacticPhantom, or Danny. He had found the channel a few months ago when one of his search engines caught a mention of Tim Drake and Red Robin being the same person.

The video in question had started off with a very well made video of the camera zooming down from a space view of the Earth to Danny’s home town, through his window and coming to a screeching halt in front of Danny and his friend Wes. The opening was highly impressive to Tim and the twenty-five minute video that followed had Tim wanting to pull his hair out.

Everything Wes said was true, completely true.

Tim was absolutely stunned and terrified because the other teen had managed to fully pull together who Red Robin was without even being in Gotham. The only thing that stopped Tim from calling a meeting about it, was that no one in the comments believed him. Instead Wes was mocked with the tried and true, ‘what do the butts match?’. He ended up watching every video under the playlist, ‘Wes the Detective’ and every single video hit right on the money but absolutely no one believed him. 

Well, no one but his friends it seemed. Tim had a couple theories about it and if it wasn’t for the fact that Wes has his identity clock he’d be staking out the town now. So he chose to stick to the theory that Wes was incredibly smart, but cursed in some way.

However today Danny had posted a new video and Tim could barely wait to watch it. The title was called ‘This thing wont leave me alone.’ and the thumbnail showed a screaming Danny holding a broom with a humanism but clearly not human girl spiderman to his ceiling seemingly hissing at him.

Tim grinned as he pressed play and settled back into the couch to watch. As the intro came to an end it found Danny in the closet of his bedroom speaking into the camera as if he was documenting his last moments.

“Hello everyone and welcome back to my channel.” He whispered softly only stopping at a noise outside the door that sounded like nails scratching against something. “What the—” the chittering of a badger interrupted him to cover his curse. “Today I’m hiding in my closet because this demon thing showed up and won’t leave me alone.” Something being knocked over in the background was heard causing Danny to freeze again. “I am taking my stand though, I have my makeshift weapon and-and I’m gonna face it. In the event that I don’t come out of this alive, Tucker you can have my Doomed character, Sam just ask them out already, Val you can sell all my stuff, and Wes I’m sorry I gaslight everyone in school that one time into thinking you weren’t real.” 

“That was—you Danny, oh you better hope you don’t survive after this!” Wes snapped from behind the camera, his curse being covered by bird chirps, and a second later Tucker’s head popped up from the bottom right screen. 

“You’re focusing on that rather than the fact Danny said that all to the screen like we weren’t even here.” Danny shushed them all dramatically holding his broom in front of him like a weapon.

“It is time. Remember me views, remember me.”

“So—dramatic.” Sam is heard but not shown on camera, soon after Danny is shown bursting out of the closet startling the humanoid creature with white hair and bright neon green eyes. 

Tim assumes the creature is one of their little siblings decked out in a creepy cosplay, a really creepy one that Sam definitely had to have a hand in making.

The girl immediately starts screeching and hissing at Danny who starts screaming back before starting to swat at her with the broom. Only for her to drop on all four and start crawling around to dodge him.

“Why won’t you stay still!!” Danny cried out as he panted slightly out of breath. The girl let out an evil cackle starting to crawl toward him and the others fast as he head began to turn to the point that it was upside down. Everything was silent before Danny began screaming hysterically while hitting the girl with the broom before she managed to jump on him and they began to fight. The video cut off right as the girl got a good hit on his nose, only to come back to Danny back in the closet with a bloody nose.

“You okay man?” Wes asked from behind the camera as Danny just stared dazed ahead. Danny turned to him, eyes unfocused as he stared at the camera.

“Do-do I call an exorcist? Do we have exorcists around us? Bro I have a demon in my house, and my parents who are ghost hunters can’t even detect it. What do I do?”

“Danny, I think she might have broken your Lego space shuttle.” Val was heard and seconds later Danny was shown back outside the closet in a screaming match with her while fist fighting and rolling all over the ground. 

“THAT LEGO SET COST ME FOUR MONTHS ALLOWANCE!!”

“I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU REGRET BREAKING IT!”

“ALL I DID WAS HIT YOU WITH A BROOM!”

The girl seemed to be responding to him in either gibberish, or a language they created. Which only seemed to anger Danny more.

“ENGLISH! SPEAK ENGLISH!!” The girl paused, stopping herself from landing a solid punch to his cheek before grinning at the confused teen.

“No.” Danny seemed stunned before anger took over again and the fight continued.

“You can_____speaking english! You____daughter of a______!!” The feed cut off before returning to Danny who was sitting on the bed of his wrecked room. The girl in question nowhere to be seen as Val cleaned some blood off Danny's cheek with a grin.

“I don’t know where she went, but I know she is still in my house. Tune in next time I find her because she better have some money to pay me back for my lego set. Thanks for stopping to watch this episode of mine and until next time, don’t let the ghosts get ya.”

“That was pretty interesting.” Dick said as he stole a cookie from Tim’s plate. “Are all his videos like that?” Tim didn’t even blink at his brother's sudden appearance as he moved to type out a comment.

“For the most part, ya. He’s a shit poster, his content is just a tun of stuff that is so outrageous and realistic but clearly not real.”

‘That fight gave off peak sibling energy. It’s giving, I’m gonna fight my sibling to the death because of one slight inconvenience.’

Jason hummed as he picked his book back up, dropping down in front of the couch to reread Pride and Prejudice. “Ya he was definitely fighting his little sister. He held back too much and she wasn’t pulling her punches.” 

“Only Drake would spend his time watching pointless videos.” Damien huffed, causing Tim to roll his eyes.

“Awe Dami, you know Tim is on mandatory rest. No work of any kind.” Dick grinned before jumping up, wrapping his arms around Damien and dragging him down onto the couch.

“Richard!! Let me go this instant!!” Damien screamed struggling to get away from his octopus of an older brother.

“No! I need my little brother cuddles and I need them from my Dami! No escape for you now.” Damian kept fighting Dick’s hold for the next twenty-five minutes while Tim put another of Danny’s videos on and rewatched it with Jason and Dick watching as well. The video in question was one where Danny went through a locker with his friends and went back in time to when his school first opened. Jason snorted, commenting on them making everything black and white. Danny meets a seemingly see-through kid named Sidney Poindexter and it ends with the two of them having a dance off.

“Bruce, why the fuck are your kids watching a video of a kid dancing with an Infinite Relams ghost?” Tim paused, staring blankly at his computer screen before turning to look at Bruce and John Constantine. “Wow holy shit, the Infinite Realms rarely interact with us since Luthor let the Anti-Ecto Acts pass. Yet that kid is interacting with one like their friends.”

“You’re saying this shits real?” Jason asked, closing his book looking at the screen more interested.

“Language Master Jason.” Alfred said as he walked in from a tray of tea for everyone.

“Sorry Alfred.” John nodded as he moved closer, eyes trained on Poindexter.

“If it is not real it is still more similar than could be possible. They’ve definitely had interactions with the Realms.”

“Wait, what are the Anti-Ecto Acts?” Tim asked his attention zeroing in on John.

“Well fuck, you don’t know? It affects like all of you, thought for sure you’d know. Shit this is gonna take so long to explain. We’re gonna have to call a JL meeting for this explanation because I’m not doing it twice.”

Of Meetings and Musings

[woundedoves]

How They Would Suck Your Blood: Vampires (Sunday, Dr Ratio x Bottom GN!Reader) Headcanons Part 2 (NSFW) ⟡part 1 ⟡part 3

a/n: sunday my savior

CW: Sunday has guilt about being a vampire, biting, blood, slightly violent thoughts on sunday’s part, slight insecurity in Ratio’s part

Sunday

⟡ Sunday hates himself for what he is, he hates himself for deceiving his planet of who he truly is, not a soft hearted, warm angel with a halo but a disgusting creature; walking among his people as if he doesn’t see them as food as soon as he gets a whiff of their blood. Were it not for Robin, he would have banished himself from Penacony a long time ago.

⟡ Regardless, your relationship with him is complicated to say the least. He’s convinced himself that you’re just another servant that just so happens to have the blood that his taste buds enjoy the most, nothing more nothing less.

⟡ At least, that’s what he tells himself as his fangs pierce your flesh, his length throbbing against the fabric of his underwear as he listens to your silent whimpers, your silent breaths, the way the drug that is you; you in your entirety hits his system, he feels like he’s truly reached the heavens.

⟡ He quickly realises that he doesn’t only enjoy your blood, the way your skin feels against his, the way your hands feel in his, the way your lips quiver when his own get way too close than they should to the lips of a servant. These… urges, let’s say, he’s always had them and yet— when you came into the picture they ramped up by a hundred, as they say.

⟡ He’s ashamed to even admit it to himself, ashamed to even think about it but… it makes him feel cathartic as he sits on his desk, agonisingly long papers sit atop his desk as he taps his fingers against his pen, clicking his tongue as his stressed thoughts wander to you. The way you quiver and squirm when he places his hands on your waist to keep you stable, the way you say ‘master Sunday’ when he goes too far with the feeding, the way your hips rut against his gloved hands when they ghost around your clothed sex; you’re oh so angelic when your neck is covered in your own blood, his fangs claiming you as his the moment they grazed your neck.

⟡ He wants to bite down on your pulse, he wants to tear you apart, he wants to cling onto you, tell you to never let go, he sees the want in your eyes, the desire and the love behind your lingering gaze and your lingering touches and yet he feels too ashamed to ever give the satisfaction of indulging…

⟡ His eyes that he didn’t realise were closed snap open as he hears a crack, he broke his pen in a desperate attempt at gripping it to stabilise his sinful thoughts, he sighs as he looks at the inky streaming down from his gloves as he thinks, ”would it be a sin to bite the apple, when I’ve already been born a sinner?”

Dr. Veritas Ratio

⟡ I don’t think he’d see it either as a bad or a good thing, it’s what he is, rather than lamenting and parading around with self pity, he’s taken the initiative to see the safest ways to feed on humans. The only thing is… he thinks the act of feeding on a person is rather… embarrassing.

⟡ He hates to admit it but he can get pretty desperate and messy, so he appreciates the fact that you don’t tease him when he is feeding on you, he is his most vulnerable self in that moment, he’s basically trusting you with his life. To some vampires human blood and the act of feeding on it is just a normal routine, some do it every day some do it every week and some do it every month, ratio does it every week to keep himself stable; and yet he just can’t adapt to it like others have, it’s so private and so vulnerable for him, you’ve seen him shed a few tears sometimes.

⟡ He feels guilty, no matter how much he tells himself that it’s just what he needs to do to survive now it doesn’t take away the fact that he’s drinking human blood now, his best guess is this sensitivity is because he’s been a vampire for roughly a year and a half now; he’s still adjusting.

⟡ You’ve suggested having sex while he feeds on you, his knee jerk reaction was a surprised, “absolutely not!” Though the more he thought about it, the more sense it kind of made. You’d feel good during the feeding and maybe, just kaybe the pleasure clouding his mind could keep his guilty thoughts at bay?

⟡ He was, admittedly, a bit nervous so you took action when he was in the bathtub, his favourite relaxing space as you let your hands wander down into the water, to his cock. He took a sharp breath as he closed his eyes, opening them when he felt the weight of you on his thighs, tapping his favourite spot to feed on on your neck as his hands snake around your form, pulling you closer and capturing your lips in a deep kiss as you sigh with pleasure. You withdraw from the kiss as you levitate yourself upwards a few inches with the help of the water, both of you moaning softly as you sink down on his dick, feeling his body quiver under you as his hips thrust up sharply.

⟡ You whine in pleasure as he sinks his fangs into your neck after peppering the spot with kisses, his hands kneading your ass as you slowly ride his cock, the pleasure has his mind foggy, his body numb and his cock hard, throbbing inside you as the taste of your blood hits his tongue. He should listen to your advice more often… maybe.

[bitethedevil]

Hello, hope you're having a lovely day ♡ Very important question regarding Raphael science for a Raphael scientist: He has lived for thousands of years, which makes me wonder—does he have exes? What kind of people were they to get his attention to that extent? Or maybe he's not the settling-for-one kind of guy?

Thank youuu! You too <3 And thank you for the ask

Raphael and Love

I’ve made a post about devil’s when it comes to sex and love before. The more human-like a devil is, the more they are able to crave sex and even a selfish form of love. They might not be able to love back, but they can want to be loved and adored.

Cambions are solitary creatures. They are disliked by mortals and devils alike, so they are often lone wolves who in some cases even prefer to stay alone. Raphael is no exception. I’ve said this before and some people are like “but he sees people all the time. And what about Haarlep? What about Hope?”. It doesn’t count in my opinion. He doesn’t see mortals as equals and it’s the same concept as you seeing people at work. You don’t bond with them and there is no connection. Haarlep is essentially a sex slave, so again, they serve a purpose. Hope is more prey than anything else. They are not ‘real’ connections but rather tools. Raphael is a loner.

Since Raphael is pretty human-like for a devil, I’d say he does crave love and adoration, for sure, but specific to him I don’t think he would be caught dead admitting it. Raphael needs no one but Raphael. In my mind it ties to Haarlep’s form too. It might be just as much be due to a feeling of security as it is just pure narcissism.

Let’s do a bit of psychoanalysis here. We don’t know how Raphael has grown up but we know that his mother is likely dead and Mephistopheles is…well…Mephistopheles, so loneliness is no stranger to him. Kids who grow up like that often become self-sufficient, but they also won’t trust others to care for them. I think Raphael is no different (hence Haarlep taking his own form). Also, as a sidenote, people who has had a shitty childhood and upbringing sometimes cling to the past to gain any semblance of control and Haarlep is wearing a younger-looking version of himself. Have fun with that one.

I think that if Raphael was to have a relationship with anyone, it would take a fucked-up power dynamic. He doesn’t trust in others so he would need someone he can control completely, and he would not be caught dead being vulnerable with such a person. When it comes to romantic relationships, he is not the type, I think. When it comes to sex? Oh, for sure. He has fucked plenty and it’s all about power, not love. You see this with the deleted “thousand mistresses thing” and while that seems to refer to Haarlep, I think that’s a later addition. Raphael is not that much of a cringefail loser to make a comment like that if it refers to Haarlep in my mind.

He's a complicated dude. I’ve played around with the idea that he has loved before in fics and stuff, but I think it would take very special circumstances for him to actually do so. His love would also not be what we think of when we think of the concept. His love would be obsessive and toxic and there’s clues to this with Hope. The chase might excite him. He likes people who are puzzles and he likes defiance, but he’s like a dog chasing a car. He’d have no idea what to do with them if he actually succeeded, and if he did, they would once again revert to being tools. Tools that are just there to adore him and for him to control (like with the debtors and all those rules he has in his house). 

[panic-flavored]

I keep imagining some robotnik superior showing up unexpectedly in his lab and being like "🤨...Wait there are three mermai... *stone kills him*

I plan on writing a fic about this eventually, but I've been short on time lately 😭 Long story short, Robotnik moves Stone to an underwater lab he's been building to save him from being un-alived by the government, and at roughly the same time they find out Stone is pregnant. So fortunately the merfamily is totally safe! Here's a blurb from the WIP of that fic, since it probably won't be posted for a while:

---

The words echo off the lifeless conference room walls and rattle around unpleasantly in Robotnik’s brain. They are not words Robotnik wants to hear, and if he’s being honest, some time ago he’d forgotten that he’d ever have to hear them in the first place.

“Doctor?” Commander Walters offers Robotnik an appropriately concerned frown. “Did you hear me?”

Robotnik clears his throat, refocusing. “No, uh- no. I must have spaced out. Say that one more time for me.” He heard him loud and clear, of course, but he wants to pick through it one more time, see if there are any loopholes or contradictions he can take advantage of to be found in the words.

“Oh, sure… I understand, I’m sure you’ve been working around the clock lately.” Commander Walters says. “I said that if you’ve acquired all the data you can from the living specimen, it’s time to turn him over to the autopsy team. It’s still your project of course, so you can be as involved as you’d like to be going forward. But after six months of research, I think it’s safe to say we can–” here, Walters does that annoying rotating motion with both of his pointer fingers, “--wrap it up.”

Robotnik feels a little bit sick. Furious, mostly, but the sour heaviness in his guts is close to making him gag. Has it been six months already? Back then, this plan didn’t bother Robotnik in the slightest. When he first stormed into the biology lab to assert himself as the project leader, he didn’t care how injured and malnourished Stone was - Stone wasn’t Stone back then, he was the ‘specimen’. Robotnik hadn’t chewed out the pitiful scientists over their subpar treatment of Stone because he’d worried about Stone’s safety, it was because they’d compromised the scientific process. There was no sense in researching a living subject if that subject was too weak and sick to move, after all.

Obviously Robotnik’s opinion had changed rather quickly. He’d been told that the ‘merman’ wasn’t intelligent, wasn’t sentient. That he was mindless and violent. Fools. Almost as soon as Robotnik dismissed the rest of the team, it became apparent none of that was true. Stone quickly proved himself to be highly intelligent, learning ASL almost as fast as Robotnik once had. He was complex, loyal, and terribly interesting. He saw the world so differently than anyone Robotnik had ever met. 

This is a very wordy way of saying that Robotnik fell in love, even if he hated framing it in such a simplistic, childish way.

Stone fell first, to be fair. He’d marked Robotnik, he claimed him, they were mates and now Robotnik is hearing another person say that Stone needs to be killed and torn open soon. It all seems so surreal. 

“You can’t just put a time limit on science, Commander,” Robotnik says icily. “Six months is nothing. I haven’t even had ample time to study his metabolic rate yet, it’s vastly different from a humans–” “Six months was your estimation, not mine,” Walters counters. “When you took over the project, that was your projected timeframe.”

Robotnik inwardly kicks himself. He originally gave himself six months to ensure he had a comfortable cushion of time, but he’d been positive four months is all it would take to collect all the necessary data before passing Stone off to another team. 

“Well if it hadn’t taken two months for the creature to fully recover from what those amateurs did to it before I arrived, I would have been done by now!” Robotnik growls. It hadn’t taken two months for Stone to recover, but it seemed a believable amount of time to a person who isn’t personally familiar with how quickly merpeople heal. “Why do you think I’ve been ‘working around the clock’, Commander? Making up for lost time!”

Walters frowns in consideration, rubbing a knuckle thoughtfully against his stubbly chin. “Ah yes, I remember reading about that in your initial reports. I hadn’t considered how much that may have set you back. In that case, I’ll give you another two months to finish your research, Doctor. Does that sound fair?”

It takes Robotnik less than a second to run the numbers, the estimations and impromptu simulations - yes, he could certainly finish his work in two months. Not the work Walters was expecting him to finish, obviously. Something much, much more important. “Two months sounds more than fair, Commander.”

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

i just got a vision

kaiser x reader au where kaiser is transformed into a fluffy cat by a curse. reader finds him, takes care of him, and kaiser grows to love reader. at some point, reader kisses cat kaiser on his little forehead and he returns human.

now reader keeps kissing kaiser on the forehead. he thinks it's cute, when reader actually wants to turn him back into a cat

CATBOYSSSS OUGHGHGHGHGH CATBOYSSSSSS !!!!

anyways

LIKE A CAT!

you're finding it hard to deny your attraction to kaiser nowadays. which is only a problem because you're used to him being your pet cat, not a handsome young man who you broke free from a curse with a kiss. surely there's a way to turn him back into a cat?

gender neutral reader

There has to be a way to turn him back.

“Ahahaha! Awwww, darling, do you really like kissing me that much?”

There has to be.

“Do you want me to kiss you too? Is that it?”

You pushed yourself away from the man seated gleefully in front of you, distancing yourself as far as you could from him in the split second warning you had. Kaiser puckered his lips up, and the boy made exaggerated smooching noises towards you before you let out an audible gagging noise.

You should have known it was too good to be true. When a golden-furred cat showed up, abandoned in a cardboard box, outside of your door, you didn’t have the heart to turn it into the shelter where he might be miserable for the rest of his days. Raising a cat would be no cheap nor easy endeavor, but whenever the kitty flashed its wide blue eyes at you or pawed at you endearingly, you had no choice but to lend your heart to the creature.

And you most definitely should have known when the cat was a little too well-behaved in comparison to other cats. You swore up and down to your friends that your cat acted like it could understand you. When you tried to name him, he vehemently clawed at you and hissed down any suggestion you had until you propped open a history book. He then proudly sauntered over, took a few glances at the page before smacking his paw twice on two different words.

Michael Kaiser.

So your cat was named. You were quick to find out how picky he was and how much of an attention-whore your newfound pet was. The moment anything didn’t go his way, he’d yowl and howl at you as if you had personally conspired against him and his entire bloodline, only to be quelled over easily with some yummy treats and you promising him that he could sleep in your bed for the night, rather than the catbed you bought for him. A quick kiss would usually solve most issues you had with him, and Kaiser would melt into your lap and be the happiest feline in the world so long as you lavished your attention onto him.

It was these kisses that would be the key to unlocking your personal nightmare. You weren’t even exactly sure how it happened. One moment you were playing with your pet, wiggling Kaiser’s favorite toy and smothering his face with smooches, and next thing you knew, you were flat on the ground with a full-grown man sitting on top of you.

After a great deal of screaming, some threats to call the police, and hours of explanation followed by even more intense questioning, you were finally able to meet the real Michael Kaiser. The cursed-to-turn-into-a-cat Kaiser. The cursed-until-kissed-on-the-forehead Kaiser. The kiss-has-to-one-of-true-love Kaiser.

He insisted that he was in your debt and became a roommate as equally selfish as the feline partner you had grown used to, and while you wouldn’t mind hosting him, you wondered if there was a way to turn him back. After all, a cat was soooooo much cuter than some man who ate all your food and acted like he owned the place. 

“C’mon,” Kaiser’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. A poised hand cupped your face, and you held your breath as the man drew closer. A pair of golden-blue ombre cat ears twitched atop his head, clearly amused by the flustered reaction he drew out of you. “You’re always showering me with kisses. There’s nothing wrong with me returning the favor, is there?”

“Y-You’ve got the wrong idea!” You spluttered, waving your arms to signal your surrender. “I’m doing uh- uhhhh- a science experiment! Yeah, a science experiment of sorts!”

There was no way you could tell him that you were actively trying to turn him back into a cat. It was clear the man was absolutely smitten with you: constantly draping himself all over you, waking you up by stroking your face and hair, teasing you about how stupid humans were in comparison to cats… You weren’t sure how he’d take it if he found out that you were less keen on having him as a human lover as much as an adorable kittypet. 

Kaiser raised an eyebrow as if he wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t press on any further. “Well, darling, if you’re ever interested in having your favors returned… You only need to say the word.”

He winked at you sweetly, and you cursed yourself for the way your heart skipped a beat. You hated how ridiculously attractive this man was, enough to make your face heat up and your palms sweat. You debated going to a religious leader the first week after he turned into a man, wondering if being attracted to your former-cat-now-hot-ikemen roommate was some kind of sin. Or if it’d make you a furry. You’d spent hours surfing the web for any answers, only to come up with nothing.

But your attraction to him was there nonetheless. You couldn’t tell if Kaiser got careless on purpose or genuinely, having gotten used to life as a cat and all, but there were times he surprised you in the most unconventional ways. He’d rub his cheeks against you possessively, and if you tried to refuse, he’d simply pin you down on the nearest flat surface and affectionately rub his face all over yours until he was satisfied. 

(You later found out that that was how cats marked their territory.)

Sometimes he’d straight up wander around butt naked, and when you’d throw him some clothes and yell at him, he’d only grumble back about how dumb it was to even be clothed in the first place. You ended up having to wrestle him into a t-shirt and sweatpants, which only led to Kaiser misinterpreting that as a form of love-induced play fighting and ended up with him tackling you for half an hour straight.

But the worst of it all had to be how downright handsome he was. Even as a cat, you had to admit he was beautiful. You debated on whether or not you should enter him as a showcat. His golden fur was more like a beautiful lion’s than that of a cat, and his icy blue eyes peered up at you with swirling mischief and unmistakable fondness every time you entered his sight. He knew just what to do in order to tug at your heartstrings, and every time you saw your beloved kitty waiting patiently for you to return by the door, your heart melted.

His gorgeous features were only more accentuated as a human. He was so, so fit, with a body that could put any of the celebrities you ogled at on social media to shame. Every time he stepped out of a shower with barely anything on, all you could do was hide behind your phone and stare awestruck at his toned chest and sculpted abs. The little streams of water that ran down his bare skin did little to keep your head calm, and whenever the young man swept his long hair back, your stomach did somersaults. 

You never knew that Kaiser had a tattoo either, not until he turned human. He teased you relentlessly about it, asking if you liked seeing it and if you were interested in getting a matching one. The blue was a stunning copy of his pretty eyes, and when he was fast asleep, curled up next to you in bed, your fingers itched to trace over all the swirling thorns and stems. Ever since he found out that you had taken such a liking to his tattoo, Kaiser went out of his way to show it off to you whenever he can, just like how he nagged you to constantly brush and smooth out his sleek fur when he was a cat.

“No thanks,” you quickly refused. You squirmed out of his grasp, awkwardly trying to wriggle off of the couch you were sitting on with him. It was a forehead kiss that undid the curse and turned him back into a man. Maybe there was a way for you to reverse the curse reversal. Maybe if you kissed him on the forehead enough, he’d go from being the suave yet irritating man he was back into the cat you’d grown to love. “The last thing I need from you is a kiss.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? If my research about human courtship is correct, kisses usually indicate a romantic interest. And you’ve been doing nothing but kissing me all day, every day.”

Heat rushed to your face again, and you instinctively got defensive. Even if you were harboring a bit of a crush on your pet-roommate-amalgamation, you’d never admit it out loud to someone as conceited as him. “Did you not hear me earlier? I said it was for a science experiment!”

“I’m not convinced at all, darling,” he cooed. Your stomach twisted into a flurry of nerves at his slightly lowered eyes and the seductive batting of his long lashes. He chuckled, bright eyes lighting up like a predator closing in on its helpless prey, and your mouth went dry as he crawled over to where you were sprawled out onto the couch. 

You gulped when he placed a hand on either side of your head, easily looming over you and casting a shadow onto your form. 

You clenched your eyes shut as Kaiser closed in, and the boy bit down on the tip of your nose playfully. You yelped at the sudden stinging pain, and he laughed haughtily to himself watching you squirm and bat at his chest to no avail.

“Cats don’t like it when their prey doesn't fight back. We’re natural born hunters, you know. Weak prey means it's usually not worth our time. We like it when you struggle a bit, make us fight for our prize…” He traced a finger down your jawline, and you swore your heart was going to give out right there and then. The strict logic in your brain to always keep him at an arm’s distance wavered, and for that split second, Kaiser knew that he had you playing around in the palm of his hand. “And, boy, you’ve done nothing but make me really work for it. Was it fun? Hmmm? Pushing me away when you loved me so shamelessly as a cat?”

“That’s not-!” You knew deep down that your denial would only take you so far. Kaiser was hungry, starved, for your love, and only feeding him crumbs seemed to make him that much more ravenous to take from you. 

“Go ahead. I’m listening,” he purred. “If you can really tell me that you don’t feel the same way as I do, I’ll back off. I’m not interested in forcing someone to love me against their own will.”

You paused, biting your lip. Your gaze wavered, unable to look him straight in the face. The more tenacious part of your mind screamed at you to deny him, to cast him aside as you always had ever since his transformation, but the tightness welling up in your chest told another story. Your hands weakened their grip against his chest, and Kaiser grinned triumphantly to himself as he gobbled up the way you averted your eyes and hung your head.

“See? That’s more like it.” He leaned down, and with his sharp teeth, he nipped at your neck. You cried out once more, and you could feel him smirk into your skin as he lapped over the small bite marks he left you. “You’re so cute when you’re finally being honest.”

“I’ll get you for this, Kaiser, I will!” You swore vehemently. “I’m not going to lose to you like this!”

His fingers ghosted over your lips, and your words died in your throat when he pressed his thumb down your bottom lip. You swallowed thickly, only able to stare up at him as he bridged the gap between the two of you in one swift movement. 

His eyes sparkled like pure diamonds. “You’ve already fallen for me once, darling. It’ll be a piece of cake to make you fall for me again.”

Then he kissed you.

x

[five-rivers]

adequate peace

Phic phight for Lumi!

.

Human language lacked the words to adequately describe the physical appearance of the King of Ghosts.  This was sure to be a temporary deficiency.  When a human lacked the vocabulary to describe something, they either generated new words or stole them.  Still, for the moment, the deficiency persisted.  

A human attempting to describe the Ghost King might, after a struggle, settle on vast.  This, on top of being inadequate, would also be incorrect, a product of human conflating of importance and size. Serpentine might also be chosen, or mustelidine, for the King's relative length and width, although those were largely a matter of perspective.  Some humans might focus instead on individual, more easily grasped, features, such as the hair, which was the color of sunlight falling on snow after being cast through ice, or the eyes, which were the glowing green of uranium glass under blacklight.  Still others might fail to register those at all, and have difficulty perceiving the King in the proper dimensionality, resulting in things like limbs appearing to clip through wall, or even in the King being invisible, imperceptible, but doubtlessly present.  

Those with somewhat greater measure of wisdom might instead attempt to describe the King's regalia.  The cloth cut from dazzling night, clinging to every curve, flowing, diaphanous, silky, folds and layers holding secrets unknown and unknowable.  The crown, a blazing circlet, a corona of light, the sun, eclipsed.  The ring of office, adorned with the skull of a lesser, and therefore conquered, creature.  The staff, like a tower, like a needle, like the slender trunk of a sapling, not fully grown, but rich in potential.  The sword, sharp enough to cut the fabric of spacetime, light enough to hold in one hand, a perfect void, made to divide both what was and what was not.  

Or, to protect themselves and their sanity, a human may choose to focus on the King's surroundings, rather than the King's person.  The throne, which cradled the King’s body, grave, urn, and memorial, bones on an altar, a sacrifice.  The great cathedral of the King’s receiving hall, the branches of which reached up to the cosmos, the roots of which reached down to the shadows of subconscious thought.  They might look out the windows, and gaze upon the kingdom, that great kingdom of the dead, that kingdom which everyone would be a citizen of, soon or late.   

But even those were not comfortable to contemplate.  Not for long.  

It was easier by far to examine, and therefore describe, the King’s mental state.  There was nothing esoteric about it, after all.  

Mental breakdowns were perfectly within human understanding.  

Danny had been crowned only hours ago.  If he’d had a choice, he wouldn’t have been crowned at all, but as Skulker had told him years ago, the Ring of Rage and the Crown of Fire contained entities with a will of their own.  Danny had been chosen, and they weren’t going to take no for an answer.  

Thus, his current predicament.

As soon as he’d been crowned… as soon as the stupid thing had touched his head…  It was like his body evaporated off of him, and into this.  This thing he could barely understand, but could feel so, so much.  This thing that was him, undeniably and completely, and which was so alien, so divorced from what he understood to be himself, that he couldn’t even begin to think about it.  

He wasn’t bigger.  He wasn’t smaller.  When he counted his limbs, he had the right number.  When he touched his mouth, he had only one.  One mouth, one nose, two eyes, two ears.  Nothing had been removed.  Nothing had been added, except for those infernal crown jewels  That’s what he felt when he checked.  

But he could see forwards and backwards, both down and up.  His lips were closed but he was singing, speaking, babbling, screaming.  He could feel feathers as they brushed against the throne and through the walls of the keep.  Scales scraped against stone.  Stars and nebulae tangled in his horns and antlers.  

He didn’t have any of those.  His skin was intact, fleshy, and pink.  His skin was stretched to infinity, and transparent as glass, galaxies swimming beneath it.  

He couldn’t breathe.  He had to breathe.  He was breathing, but the aurora spilled past his lips with every gasp.  

In his mind’s eye floated the Earth.  A blue pearl against the black.  The Infinite Realms stood out like emeralds on a chain, each one precious.  

He curled in the great cradle of his throne, trying not to feel, trying not to think.  He was not.  He could not. 

Three years since he had really been human, and he’d never expected this.  He’d never dreamed of this.  He’d never wanted this.  

Like this, he couldn’t even pretend to be human.  

He clawed at the Ring and Crown, but even with so much power, what could he do against the very things that granted that power?  They didn’t go away, even when he reached for his living half.  They clung.  They constricted.  They were weights and chains he wanted to cast off.  

“Daniel.”

No, said Danny, although he didn’t know how.  His word echoed.  

“Daniel, you will injure yourself.”

He sobbed.  

“Please, Daniel.”  A cold hand wrapped around his wrist.  It was a hand that was three hands.  Or, rather, three versions of the same hand, layered upon itself and twisted through time.  

“I don’t want this,” said Danny.  

“I know, Daniel.”  Shifting robes tickled the edges of wings that were not there.  A tail curled at the base of the throne, and another hand laid itself against Danny’s knee.  “You are overwhelmed.”

Until Clockwork had said it, Danny hadn’t known it was true.  But there was so much here, and all of it was him.  

“You do not need to stay here,” said Clockwork, gently.  There was kindness there, and a thread of something like possession.  The words came from a well of great experience, deep and dark.  “Look up.  Anywhere you can see, you can go.  Go, and find peace from this.”

“But not forever,” said Danny.  

“Nothing is forever,” said Clockwork.  “But once you find peace from this, you may someday find peace with this.  It is a long road–” here, Clockwork placed a hand on Danny’s cheek, “--but know that time is on your side.”

Danny bit his lower lip, teeth both flat and fanged, and a motion like a nod stirred the inky fabrics of his cerements.  He looked up, and all his eyes were filled with stars. 

[k1ngdom-of-thieves]

May I request gender neutral or female anglerfish reader with Octavinelle so Jade,Floydand Azul?

( they can hunt things twice their size (including eels and octopus)and most of them are actually very small so maybe in their human form they are a lot shorter than the other merfolk, they can make their own light, sharp teeth but also since they are deep sea creatures, the boys wouldn't really know much about them, mostly since they are closer to the surface than the reader). I hope this made sense!!

Thank you so much for giving a little description I would’ve been so lost on where to start. How you enjoy!

Octavinelle + Anglerfish!Reader

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul was surprised to see someone he hadn’t met before with the other merfolk. At first, he thought it was because you grew up closer to the surface and was incredibly shocked when he found that you grew up farther from the surface than he did.

During Beanfest, Azul was a little worried about how you’d deal with the opposing farmers. His jaw almost hit the floor when he saw you throw the farmers into each other with ease.

Showing you to his family was a lot easier than he was expecting. They loved you and really enjoyed hearing about how different your life was compared to theirs.

He’d love if you would want to work in the lounge. Not just because he’d get another worker. Since you’d probably be the most well-adjusted person with him, he’d trust you with a lot more than what he does with others.

“Can I speak with you for a moment? Would you be willing to use your strength to put up some of the new decorations? You’d be compensated, of course.”

Jade Leech

Jade had a feeling you were from somewhere completely different from where he was from. What tipped him off was you saying that you had your own source of light. While the reef he lives in is fairly dark, was still some fragments of light that peeked through.

He always knew you were a special case among the merfolk. When he had the “lucky” opportunity to be your opponent during Beanfest, was able to see first hand how hard you could hit when giving it your all.

He finds your ability to create your own light source to be very interesting as well as amusing. He chuckles to himself when he sees you accidentally spook Azul when he walks around the lounge.

The both of you together have the most unbelievable ability to freak out anyone and everyone that’s in the room with you guys. Azul feared that it might bring down sales but there was a surprisingly good reception behind people being terrified while eating.

“We make a rather terrifying pair, wouldn’t you say? I’m kidding, but I do quite like the idea of being associated with you.”

Floyd Leech

I’m just gonna be honest, Floyd probably doesn’t think it’s that interesting the first time you tell him. He thought it was kinda cool but didn’t put too much thought into it.

That all changed when he saw you take down two spelldrive players on your own during their practice. Now he was running up to you like “Hey lightbulb! That was awesome!” And “You wanna practice with me sometime?”

Be prepared to have him appear at random times just to see if you’ll glow on accident. You probably won’t but he still wants to try anyway.

He loves dragging you along with his deep-sea shenanigans, like bullying Azul and scaring some land dwellers. Rip Ace and Deuce. He’s sure that you’ll fit right in with his family and childhood friends. Well, more than most people would anyway.

“Heyy, nightlight. Feel like taking a dive? Azul said I couldn’t chase the customers so I felt like chasing the fish instead. Wanna join?” he might end up chasing you btw.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Killer purrs when he take care of others.

LET ME COOK WAIT!

He knows that other beings fear him; humans, monsters, no one in their right mind would let their guard down around a being like Killer (someone with an indecipherable soul).

However, there are creatures who submit to his hands, who accept his most delicate caress - even though these same creatures are aware of his volatile personality, knowing that Killer can tear them to shreds and step on their remains as if they were nothing.

But they persist in remaining in his arms, welcoming Killer's rare affection in their most vulnerable state.

And Killer, fascinated by, perhaps, this naivety, does not contain the light purr that resonates through his vertebrae.

Ooh that’s both interesting and kinda cute. I’d imagine he’d be both fascinated and curious about this, and would instinctively want to test how far this trust—naviety, I suppose—would go.

Would they stay even if he makes them cry, makes them bleed, makes them shake and tremble. Makes them afraid. Perhaps even breaks some limbs here and there. Would they stay if he tells them he still thinks they’re beautiful.

Of course, if he ever actually acts on these urges depends. Perhaps he’s enjoying taking care of something rather than destroying it all the time—perhaps knowing that they know that he could (and one day will, someday somehow, he thinks it’s inevitable) and is choosing not to is enough.

Although, if he’s still with Nightmare and if he thinks it comes more from naivety than trust in him—the ‘naive’ belief that he’s somewhere deep down a “good person” or a person at all—there may even be an element of amusement and perhaps even contempt, as if looking down on that person even as he takes care of them. Kinda like with Swap.

{ @qin-qin16 }

[mixtape-racha]

angel with a shotgun - k.th

part of the aria birthday series ˖°🦇ִ ࣪𖤐 (will eventually get a part 2)

words: 1k // warnings: light angst, established relationship, supernatural au, werewolf!reader

some would say kang taehyun was a villain. a scoundrel, a thief. others would say he was a bad omen. but their opinions didn’t matter - not to him anyway. the only person whose opinion meant anything was yours.

you and taehyun had been together for a little over a year, and you’d never had anything but a good word to say about him. he was your angel, your light in the dark, and your escape when home seemed too suffocating.

to you, finding taehyun when you did was nothing short of a miracle. he seemed to have made his way into your life when you needed him the most, and you’d rather be burned alive at the stake before letting him go.

finding love as a…. creature of your predicament was difficult enough. while supernatural beings were far from hidden to the human world, most still saw you as a threat. or worse, a disease to be washed out. so yeah, as a werewolf, love and relationships weren’t something your life was given in abundance.

at first, you thought taehyun was just… different. a human who wasn’t afraid, or eager to trap you. nor was he on the opposite end of the spectrum - he wasn’t one who fetishized supernatural beings, saw them as a toy to use and keep as simply a sexualized pet. and it was nice to be with someone who had no ulterior motive. a breath of fresh air.

until it wasn’t - he’d been acting strange. canceling dates last minute, never staying over when he promised to. its like he was hiding a whole part of himself from you, and it frightened you. gave you ample reason to put those protective walls back up, and disconnect yourself from romance once again.

but the worst part was how much it hurt. you truly thought taehyun was different, would be better than anyone you’d attempted to bare yourself to before. that's why after a few days of moping when he canceled yet another date, you’d decided enough was enough. if he truly wanted you, he’d need to reciprocate your energy. and if not… well, he could at least have the balls to tell you to your face.

it was creeping towards 4 in the morning on a saturday when your late night drive dragged you outside taehyun’s apartment building. you assumed it was your subconscious telling you to get answers, and you knew you had to do it eventually, so why not now? you knew he was at home and awake - the light of his balcony was on, and you could see the shadows on the tv playing.

the elevator ride up to the fifth floor filled you with dread - brain working overtime to give you visions of all the worst case scenarios that could play out. even as you approached his door and raised your fist to knock, your heart was fluttering at an alarming speed.

you knocked gently, fully aware that he had neighbors that wouldn’t appreciate being disturbed at such an unsociable hour, and tried to calm yourself before taehyun saw you in such a state.

but when the door swung open and he realized you were standing on his doorstep, he looked more surprised than you could have imagined.

“y/n? what are you doing here? … why are you out alone at this time?!”

he was quick to drag you into the apartment, the door swinging closed behind you. you cringed as it slammed, pulling your arm from taehyun’s grip as you grappled with how to go about your feelings next.

“expecting someone else? you of all people know i’m more than okay being outside alone at night, tae.”

his expression softened at your words, and it was hard to deny the butterflies you felt when he visibly relaxed and took your hands in his.

“what’s going on, hmm? talk to me.”

“i think you need to do the talking, really,” you half-smiled with a slight shrug of the shoulders. “you’ve been acting so… weird lately. did… do you wanna break up or something?”

taehyun’s eyes widened and he shook his head fast, the shock and confusion evident on his features.

“no! no, of course i don’t! why would you think that?”

you sighed, pushing away from him once more to pace across his apartment hallway.

“why? maybe because you’ve been so distant! i feel like i’m the only one putting any effort in, like you don’t want me as much as i want you.”

he lead you into the living room, gesturing for you to sit on the couch so he could explain himself, and you were more than eager to listen. anything to get answers to all the questions running through your mind lately - to put your doubts at rest.

“i’m..” he sighed, hands rubbing at his temples as he tried to formulate the words he wanted to convey. “i don’t want to mess this up, okay? i’ve been… i’ve been trying to learn more about werewolf culture. about– about your courting ways, how to track when you’re going to go into heat, what you can’t do and what will make your inner wolf happy. i want to be good to you, and i don’t want to do something wrong.”

and oh, how your heart ached at the pleading expression on his face, as if he was begging you to forgive him. when in fact, there was nothing to forgive. he had actually achieved a great step - he had officially done more for you than anyone ever had before, and you could cry with how grateful you were.

“tae.. that’s– you’re amazing. i’m so sorry for overreacting.” your eyes welled with tears and he rushed to wipe them away before they could fall, cradling your head to his chest - his heartbeat instantly calming you.

“don’t be silly, you have nothing to be sorry for, yeah? now.. since you’re here, and its so late, why don’t we head to bed?”

god, you couldn’t think of anything better.

taglist: @pretty-racha @demetrisscarf @bangtancultsposts @watariisbestboy @yevene @zuzuhasablog @popesfirstluv @zuzuhasablog @hearts4tubatu

[arya-skywalker]

Fae and Fate (Renegade Nell fic)

Summary: A look into Billy Blind’s mind leading up to his decision to introduce himself, and a slight variation on the scene itself.

Notes: Dipping my toes into the fandom with a little character study thing. Some canon dialogue, some lines tweaked or added. Technically more canon adjacent with the main difference being that Billy is slightly less stupid and slightly more fae, but events continue in roughly the same way.

AO3 link

Billy Blind knew two things: that humans were fragile but wonderful creatures, and that he had magic they didn’t. His powers came from light, from laughter and love, from all that was good and right. He could imbue a chosen human with strength and agility beyond their wildest dreams— but only for protection, never for personal gain. He could change his size and appearance, become invisible or intangible at will. He could see brief glimpses into the future— warnings of approaching danger or a sense that someone would do great things— but his past was lost to him.

Sometimes he’d hear a whisper of song, a long-forgotten tune that tugged at his heartstrings and filled him with longing. Something beyond mortal senses, something that was no longer his. Mushroom circles reminded him of a home he could scarcely remember; a doorway locked and barred, unable to be seen but there all the same.

When Billy first set eyes on Nell Jackson, he knew with every fiber of his being that fate had brought them together for a reason. She would be his human, his chosen vessel, his connection to the mortal realm. She was strong, stronger than she knew— not only in body, but in heart and spirit and mind. She stood up for herself and others.

It didn’t take long for Billy to realize she was maddeningly unpredictable as well. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing, no, it kept things exciting! But still, it meant he had to adapt. He couldn’t make a proper deal, no, she jumped straight into danger before he could consider saying a word, and well now he had to protect her, didn’t he? So he did. That time, and the next, and the next, and blimey did she end up in danger rather often!

~*~

Billy watched from a distance as Nell returned home. She should be safe now, theoretically, but he still didn’t want to leave her. There was more to the story, their tale was not yet complete.

He learned that she had family, two younger sisters and a father. Everyone in town suspected she had died in the war with her husband. If Billy hadn’t intervened, she likely would have. Wars were terrible things. The local lord’s son had been wreaking havoc on her home town— which meant she wasn’t safe here after all and she still needed Billy’s protection. All the more reason to stay, at least a little while longer.

Billy respectfully did not watch as Nell went through her wardrobe transformation, but still he kept an ear out just in case. The sisters were catching up with each other; the subject moved to Nell’s late husband.

“I do miss him a bit. Except I don’t think he’s left me, even if he is dead,” Nell said. “It’s like today, I got held up by these highwaymen. And one of them hit me. And it’s like… I don’t know, something happens to me inside and… you should see me. I’m untouchable.”

Oh no. No, no, no! That wasn’t what he meant! Billy didn’t even know her late husband— or if he did he couldn’t remember. Perhaps the man’s death had somehow drawn Billy to her, but even if so, they weren’t the same person. Billy most certainly was no ghost, he was a fairy. Keeping up this ruse would be a lie. That wasn’t right.

He had to tell her the truth, somehow. When the time was right.

~*~

Billy watched as Nell made a fool of herself, wincing as that lord’s son threw her around like a sack of potatoes. But there were rules. She started it. She could stand to take a few punches. She had to learn a lesson in caution; throwing herself recklessly into danger expecting him to save her wouldn’t do. He wouldn’t always bail her out of situations she willingly got herself into. His powers were a special gift, not something to be wasted on petty quarrels.

There was a limit.

If her life was threatened, he could step in. If the lives of those she cared about were threatened, he could step in. If she was in danger of permanent injury, he could step in.

The whip was danger enough. One lash he let slip, seeing it would barely graze her cheek.

Then he shrunk into a speck of light and dove into her, filling her lungs and veins with his power. It was invigorating, disorienting, fulfilling. Time slowed around them. He felt her every move, her every emotion. They were one.

Her righteous fury filled him as his powers fueled her. A dangerous thing, that. But she got her revenge, and he protected her.

As soon as it was clear she and her family were safe, he withdrew and flew off, giving her some space and taking some time to think.

~*~

Now, the question was how? How could he reveal himself and get her to listen to a word he said?

He could try passing as a human. A simple glamor. The right size and shape as a normal man, nothing out of the ordinary. Say how he wanted to help, ask her opinion on magic, ease her into the reveal. That sort of thing.

But then again she had a habit of attacking anyone who frightened her or even looked at her the wrong way. That might be an issue.

He could try writing a note, explaining everything in detail and leaving no room for misinterpretation.

Except he knew she couldn’t read, and anyone who did read it would think it madness. Humans generally had difficulty believing in anything magical in nature, which was the whole problem to begin with.

Or he could just show up as himself and hope for the best. Put precautions in place so she wouldn’t hurt herself trying to fight him. Sometimes the simplest solution was most effective.

Right. Billy had to reveal himself. It had gone on long enough. He waited until they were alone in the middle of the night, less likely to be overheard.

“Nell. Nelly,” he whispered. When she barely acknowledged him, he shouted, “Nelly Jackson!” There, finally she moved!

“D-don’t scream,” he warned, then internally kicked himself. That was a foolish thing to start with. But he continued, “You need to look up.”

She opened her eyes, scanning the room, until finally she looked straight at him, eyes wide in shock. She saw him! Good. This was good.

“Oh, I’ve been racking my brains trying to figure out the best way to introduce myself without giving you a shock, Nelly Jackson,” Billy said. “Frankly, there isn’t one! Of course, it isn’t absolutely necessary that I should introduce myself.”

He stood on the beam, doing his best to appear more confident. “But in your case, I had a sneaking suspicion it might crop up sooner rather than later.” He flew towards her, slowly and cautiously.

Of course she immediately drew a pistol on him. Luckily he had prepared for that.

“So three things. One, I’m on your side. Two, that is not loaded.” He pointed to the gun. “And three, it won’t have any effect on me even if it was, for I am non-corporeal!” He did a little bow for effect.

“What do you mean you’re on my side?” Nell demanded. She didn’t lower the gun.

Clearly, words weren’t enough. Billy sighed. “Look at me,” he said, making sure she made eye contact before diving in and briefly sharing his powers. Just long enough for her to feel and acknowledge it, assuage her fears.

Then he flew out again and did a flip in midair. “I protect you!”

Nell stared at him, still wary, still holding the gun. “Why?”

“Because you are a very special person, Nell Jackson, and we will do great things together,” he said, believing every word and hoping she would too.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“I do, actually,” Billy countered. “I’ve been watching you. And I have the gift of foresight, a strong intuition and an excellent judge of character.”

Nell scoffed. “Watching me, have you?”

“A bit hard to protect you if I’m not around, yeah? I know you have a good heart, you’re brave, you stand up for the right things. Those are all good signs.”

“I didn’t ask you to protect me.”

“No, you didn’t. But you like it, don’t you? The power. I heard you boasting about being untouchable— and that’s not entirely true.”

Ah, there, now he truly had her attention! She wavered, more curious than wary now. Good. “Feels untouchable, that power,” she said. “There some catch?”

Billy nodded. “The more immediate point is this: I can only protect you, Nelly Jackson. I will not take part in random acts of violence.” He landed on the pistol and walked across it.

She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Like earlier this evening,” Billy clarified.

“What? He’s a bully! He’s an arrogant lout, and he hurts people,” Nell protested.

“Be that as it may, he didn’t start anything. You did.”

“No, he was gonna!”

Billy shook his head. “Ain’t the point. It was an unnecessary risk, egging him on like that. You knew he’d lash out, and you expected me to enhance your abilities. You can’t rely on it, Nelly. My powers are a gift. I chose to give them to you, and I can choose when not to.”

“No, wait. You mean you let him whoop me about and you could have stopped it?!”

“I did stop it.”

“Not sooner!” Nell shouted. “Like when he was grinding my face in the mud!”

A knock on the door interrupted them. Thank goodness! Something to distract her from her anger. This was not going to plan. Not at all.

Nell glanced at the door, then back at him. “Who sent you? Where are you from? Look at you. What are you dressed as?”

That was a lot of questions. Most of which he hadn’t the foggiest clue of. And that last one was just plain insulting. He liked his clothes, thank you very much.

Before he could reply, the knock continued. Nell shot him a warning look and a “wait right there” and went to answer it. After a few steps, she paused and glanced back at him. “What’s your name? I mean, do you got one?”

It was time to give his name, to complete the bond and give himself fully. This was his best chance, a way to save this mess of a conversation. He took a breath and smiled.

“Yeah. Billy. Billy Blind. It’s truly a pleasure to meet you, Nell Jackson, and I look forward to what we can achieve together.” There, done! He felt a warmth in his chest as the bond sealed. He was her fairy, and she was his human. It was all official now, even if they took a roundabout route to get there.

“I’ll catch you later.” With a wink and a clap, he turned into a spark and flew off before she could ask any further questions.

[loftylockjaw]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The woods PARTIES: Wyatt (@loftylockjaw) & Mateo (@fearhims3lf) SUMMARY: Just some dudes bonding over explosions. CONTENT WARNINGS: Gun use

—

BANG!

The can used as a makeshift target several yards away flung with the force of a bullet. It was the farthest distance Mateo had been able to accurately shoot with his pistol. He closed one eye and inhaled, shooting three more times as he exhaled. Two out of the three cans flew away, and he sucked his teeth with disappointment. If he couldn’t hit still targets, how’d he expect to hit ones that were moving? Rolling his eyes at himself, Mateo mentally reassured himself that he was fine. 

There were several dozen pieces of metal on the ground proving that a few missed shots were inevitable. He held onto that, removing the clip from the gun and checking the chamber to ensure no bullet was left inside. When Mateo was satisfied with his gun cleanup, he picked up his pack and began his march to pick up his trash. An asshole he may be, but he did not litter. He wouldn’t be part of that particular problem, and just as he was halfway through with the errand, there was the telltale sound of footsteps nearby. Only, they weren’t just footsteps. Each thump crunched several branches at once, as if the size of its foot was an indication of the source being a creature rather than a person. 

“Come on.” Mateo groaned, irritated at himself for thinking that any day in that stupid town could be normal. With a huff, he reclipped his gun and pulled the chamber back, readying himself to shoot, but when he finally saw what was coming, he shrank with widened eyes.

“I’m gonna need bigger bullets.”

—

Most people heard gunshots in the woods and made sure to stay well away, especially if they didn’t happen to be in the midst of a hunting reserve. Despite this, Wyatt strode boldly forward, thinking about a meal rather than the stupidity of this particular decision. The sound was distant for now, and before it became a danger to his comparatively fragile human body, the lamia stripped out of his clothes and left them hanging over the branches of a nearby tree—it was a spot he often chose if he didn’t happen to have his modified backpack with him. The shift was swift and relatively painless, unlike that of lesser shifters, his crocodilian body bursting forth from the smaller human one that contained it with decades of practiced ease. The massive lamia rocked forward onto all fours and began his lumbering march through the trees, closer and closer to the sound. It stopped eventually, but he’d already locked on to his target. Golden eyes watched for a moment from the trees before he moved to meet the person in the small clearing, long alligator jaws parting in what you could call a toothy grin. 

“Or maybe just save me trouble and don’t waste them on me at all?” he suggested languidly, rising up onto his hind feet. It was only then, once he was done talking and moving about that he noticed that the thump of his footsteps hadn’t stopped… even though he had? What the—

Another creature, one he thought for a moment might be another fucking lamia, came bursting out of the underbrush. “Whoa, hey! I got dibs here, pal!” Wyatt snarled, reeling back and out of the way of the other reptilian beast as it charged at them. Upon closer inspection, he was pretty sure it wasn’t a lamia, but he didn’t know what the fuck it was either. “Okay, new plan—shoot that guy.” It was turning on them again, beady gaze dancing between the stranger and Wyatt, sizing them up. 

—

A voice called out to him, unfamiliar yet demanding. As if the stranger had known Mateo far longer than a brief moment in passing, a flash that could hardly be registered as any real greeting. Especially when a reptilian creature was telling him to shoot another reptilian creature. The other one was just a hell of a lot bigger, and charging way too fast for Mateo to get a proper shot on it. 

“Fuck!” A large tail rammed into the mare, sending him careening away from the rest of his bullets. He maintained a firm grip all the way until his body  stopped rolling at the treeline. Mateo groaned, barely managing to push himself out of the way when the beast tried to crash into him again. It broke several branches and left jagged trails from its claws in the earth. Mateo knew he’d be a goner if any of its grubby talons latched onto him, so he aimed and pulled the trigger four times in quick succession. Each landed, but the caliber was nowhere near big enough to cause actual damage. 

Of fucking course!

Mateo rushed to his feet and booked it toward the talking alligator thing. He figured that his chances with that thing were better than with the nonverbal asshole struggling to find his way out of the shrub. It helped a lot that the reptile dude was much closer to Mateo’s size. The caliber he had in his gun would definitely do a bigger number on it. “Okay,” He skidded to a halt just a few feet away from the creature. Distance was his best friend at that point. “I shot the thing, and it did nothing. What the fuck do I do now? You should probably, I don’t know, go flirt with it or something.” Mateo shrugged, “You two seem to have a lot in common.”

—

Wyatt narrowed his yellow eyes at the man, taking offense at the comment. Unless that thing was a lamia, it's be a hard fucking pass. “Ain't in the habit of boinking the wildlife, mon frère,” he hissed. He was annoyed that his hunt had been interrupted, that what was supposed to be his dinner was now something he was going to be inadvertently protecting because he had to fight off this damn… whatever it was. 

Still, maybe it was a lamia, and just had yet to play its hand. Wyatt had done the same, after all, especially in the pursuit of food. Hoping that this was the case and that they could at least agree to split the presumed human in half, Wyatt rounded on the creature and charged at it. It mirrored his attack, leaping forward, mouth splayed open in one hell of a weird display. Wyatt tucked his maw down against his chest and headbutted the creature full-bore, knocking it to the ground and allowing him the opportunity to pin it there, using his weight to hold it in place. 

“Hey! Hey, look at me when I'm fuckin’ talkin’ to you, godzilla!” He was struggling to meet the creature's gaze, but when their eyes finally locked, he saw no reflection of higher thought. Just hunger. Ugh. 

His next bite was too slow, and the scaled creature threw Wyatt off of it, sending him skidding through the underbrush in much the same way that the human had. “Okay, now it's personal,” he grumbled as he picked himself up out of the dirt, rolling a shoulder that had clipped a tree trunk as he was thrown. His gaze flicked to the other target of this thing’s ire, teeth bared in a grimace. “Don't suppose you got any tricks up those sleeves of yours?” It wasn't fair that he always had to do all the work.

—

As much as Mateo enjoyed the Godzilla movies and all the creature features where gigantic monsters fought each other, it was a completely different scenario in person. Not to mention, whoever the reptile dude was, he was certainly a lot smaller than the thing he was attempting to fight. He was practically thrown away, like he was just some rag doll with no real weight or threat. The urge to disappear was high. 

Mateo grumbled, looking up at the sun and wishing it were the moon instead. At least that way he could go home for a much bigger gun. Maybe get that bazooka he’s been wanting to use. Or maybe just disappear outright and leave whatever the man was to deal with what wanted to eat him. For all he knew, toothy and toothier both wanted to chomp on him. With a groan, he rubbed at his face, discontent with the problem in front of him and he ran over to take aim. Taking the thing’s sight might give them an edge, right? That was Mateo’s hope. 

BANG!

A shot rang out, and a roar followed soon after while blood coated over the thing’s eye. He shot once more, missing the other eye complete due to the monster’s thrashing and crying. Mateo sucked his teeth, holstering his gun and patting his pockets for something special. Finding it, he smiled. No, he grinned, whistling to get the friendlier creature’s attention. 

“Hey, how do you feel about explosions?”

—

Wyatt was content to watch for a moment as the stranger took aim again and shot the fucking beast right in its stupid fucking eye, letting out an approving hiss and standing a bit straighter, with renewed confidence. 

Explosions? “Uh, I feel fuckin’ great about explosions, mon frère. Why, you got some dynamite on that skinny ass of yours?” He sounded excited, even as the creature charged at him again. The creature, not knowing where the pain in its head had come from but hearing the alligator making a loud racket, was decidedly less excited by this news, but also probably didn’t understand what was being said. 

This time, Wyatt was ready. This time he didn’t have to worry about sparing a fellow lamia an embarrassing defeat, and so did not hold back. All the fights he’d been in, all sixteen years of battle after battle after battle, earning himself one more day of life on this good, green earth, gave him plenty of edge over whatever this monster was. If he could not beat it by size alone (which was shocking, honestly: Wyatt was used to being the biggest bitch in the ring), then the rest of his skills would have to do. He leaped up into the air as it came for him, coming back down atop its back and crunching those powerful jaws down around its neck. He bit as hard as he could, wrenching from side to side, trying to crack a vertebrae or two. For a moment, his gaze met that of the (presumed) human. Throw it, he encouraged with a pointed stare, confident in his ability to get away before whatever it was blasted them both to kingdom come.

—

Man, if it wouldn’t expose a bigger can of worms, Mateo would’ve recorded the amazing fight. How often did people get to see that kind of action, real and up close? It would kill on YouTube, go viral even. TikTok would have a fucking field day with the airtime the smaller reptile had, and people would die from the beautiful crunching asmr. Ugh. Having witnessed the whole thing himself would have to do instead, but first Mateo had a bone to pick. 

“My ass ain’t skinny. It’s proportionate and round.” He huffed, mostly humorously. Time was of the essence, but having been an asshole his entire life, it was easy for Mateo to prolong his duty a little longer. If not for the sake of getting an unnecessary compliment out of the reptilian jowls sinking into dollar store Godzilla. Mateo didn’t even care if he understood what the dude’s stare meant. He went ahead and pulled out two grenades from his vest pocket, but did nothing more than hold them in the air teasingly.

“Say my ass is round, and then I’ll throw them.” He clicked his tongue. “And make sure his mouth is open for at least one of ‘em.”

—

Rolling his yellow eyes, Wyatt bit down harder on the beast’s neck, feeling a satisfying crack beneath his teeth. It wasn’t enough on its own, of course—might not have even been a break. Maybe he was just giving this fuckin’ thing its first chiropractic adjustment. 

“Kinna go’ aye ‘outh hull!” he shouted back, around the mouthful of… whatever this was. But the request tickled Wyatt’s peculiar sense of humor. Fishing for compliments during a dangerous situation? It’s something he would do, too. So he’d play along. His clawed back feet hooked into the creature on either side of its neck, near the underside where the tissue was softer, and clawed hands reached forward for its head. He had to let go with his own jaws to reach, grabbing at the thing’s snout and pulling back as hard as he could. It reared onto its hind legs, mouth agape, hissing and spitting and trying to shake the shifter off of its back. 

“Your ass is great!” Wyatt bellowed with a laugh. “Perfect and perky! Now throw the fuckin’ grenade!” He waited until he saw it soaring through the air at them, and praying that this man had good aim, watched it disappear behind the monster’s head as he held its mouth open. Hoping that it’d swallowed it but knowing he was too short on time to check, Wyatt released his grip and scrambled to the ground, bounding away from the thing as it took a brief moment to recover from whatever the hell had just happened to it. 

—

Mateo grinned, satisfaction dripping from his laughter as he released the safety and the clip on one of the grenades. He chucked it as hard as he could, excited at how agape the monster’s mouth was. It was wide enough to accept another treat, so without another moment of hesitation, Mateo chucked the other one with a cheery sound of exertion. The explosives landed in the creature’s mouth, one after the other, and guessing how big the chunks might be once they detonated, the mare quickly took a few steps back. 

“Get the hell outta there!” He cupped his hands around his mouth, “You got like five seconds!” Which actually wasn’t a lot of time. Forget what people said about time slowing down when shit got real. Five seconds were just a tiny instant that could make or break any time-constrained task. More than once, Mateo had witnessed timing go wrong. Luckily for both of them though, everything went according to plan. 

BOOM! And then another BOOM! shortly after. All that was left was a carcass with a blown off head. Well, among other things. 

Flesh and blood tore through the air, and Mateo couldn’t help falling over in a heap of laughter. Not even the ringing filling his ears couldn’t ruin the fun he was having. No matter how irritating it was. “You know,” He arched a brow, propping himself up on the ground by his elbows, “Wasn’t expecting to dp a beasty today, but that’s probably the most metal thing I’ll do for a while.”

—

Wyatt gave a great whoop! as the creature exploded, sending its bits flying all around the little clearing in the woods. For a moment, he forgot how tired he was, how despondent and helpless he felt in the face of the shit he’d done wrong and fucked up and the possibility that none of this was real. 

If this was a dream, at least it was a fuckin’ sick one. 

“I ain’t never blown somethin’ up before!” he hollered with a laugh. “Usually more about rippin’ it to shreds with my teeth! That was awesome.” He gave the stranger another look, deciding that he didn’t need to eat this one after all. The blown up fucker would do just fine. “And lookie there! You cut up n’ seared my dinner for me. Mighty kind.” Standing to his full height, he stomped over to the man, holding out a massive, clawed hand that would take two of the stranger’s to grip. “Lockjaw," he offered with a chuff, "if you ever find yourself at the Pit and want a good show.” In spite of everything, he still loved what he did, still craved the thrill of the fight. “I was gonna eat you, but don’t see much point in it now.” It wasn’t a threat so much as a poorly thought out statement of fact. The lamia was very good at putting his own foot in his mouth. 

—

Holy shit. 

At Wyatt’s height, it took nearly bending backwards to keep eye contact with the guy. Mateo couldn’t help but scoff with disbelief, and it quickly rolled into laughter. “Well, I don’t think I would’ve tasted very good.” He took the giant’s scaley hand and curled his fingers into a fist, holding on for just an extra moment. “I’m what you call…undead. The ‘made out of nightmares’ kind.” With some focus, Mateo urged sleep to weigh on Wyatt, but he quickly retracted his hands before he could make the poor guy pass out on the ground. 

“But hey,” Reaching into the breast pocket of his vest, Mateo produced one more grenade. “As a thank you for not eating me, and because you popped your explosion cherry,” He opened Wyatt’s giant hand and placed the grenade in it, “Here’s something to remember me by.”

—

Made out of nightmares? What did that mean? He thought, of course, of his own issues with sleep, how plagued his dreams were by terrifying things that had no right terrorizing him the way they did… but maybe it was just an expression. Figure of speech. Undead could be scary, he guessed. Caleb certainly wasn’t, but Caleb probably wasn’t your average zombie… and who knew how many other kinds of undead people there were? He only knew about zombies and vampires, and was slow to assume that that was the whole of it. He was learning, impossible as that might sound, to never presume he had the whole picture in front of him. 

So yeah. Probably a figure of speech. Except he was suddenly feeling tired, very tired, and his eyes closed for the briefest of moments. Desperate as his body was for rest, he actually did nod off, just for a second, but it was long enough to send a spectral crow screeching right toward him. The beast gave a start, snapping awake again and shaking his head, trying to brush it off as he refocused himself on Mateo. Something was being pressed into his hand—another grenade. Despite the way his heart raced, the gator managed a thick laugh. “Most excellent,” he chuckled. “I’ll be sure to let you know what I use it for!”

[yeehawbvby]

Damn i really didn't think about ever spiraling back into my pokémon hyperfixation like this, at least not this deep, but your posts are birthing blorbos to haunt my every waking moment. So. *cocks gun* i need some uhhh milo headcanons for a uhh friend (the friend is me being down bad for him) (obviously joking pls there's only a watergun involved) (your pokemon stuff literally inspires me ty)

*takes out a mini-water gun and shoots it into ur mouth* I am here to quench your thirst (get it?? Because water. And thirst for Milo. and. . Sorruy)

Hello hi I finally did this omg I am so sorry it took literally MONTHS but here we are!!!!

I did my best, not very confident in my characterization of Milo by any means, and most of these are silly, but I hope I did him justice :’)

- I told you this in DMs already but I’ll put it out there for everyone else to enjoy: Milo voiceclaim BLAST‼️ (doing this on mobile so I can’t link from a time stamp atm but I think he starts talking around 30 seconds in?)

- Milo isn’t a gamer. But. If he ever got into a DnD campaign somehow (I feel like he’d prefer tabletop > video games if anything?) he would absolutely 100% be a druid

- Spent a while internally debating his race class. I think maybe he’d stick with human, tbh, or maybe a halfling

- If he wasn’t a farmer, I could see him still working closely with pokemon beyond just being a gym leader. Like maybe he’d have a gig at a pokemon center

- OR. Or!! maybe he’d work in a battle café as a pastry chef?

- Or maybe I’m projecting, because the thought of baker!Milo is so cute to me ckejvoskckd

- Clothes headcanons.. hmm…. Lots of sweaters? Those sweaters that have a Very Pointless zipper that goes down to the, like, mid-upper chest area before stopping?? Yeah?

- Omg wait this guy KNITS

- He totally gives out scarves and mittens and beanies that he made as a (platonic) love language

- If and when things are romantic then you’ll get sweaters and blankets too, alongside everything else

- I don’t think he’d eat meat! I don’t think he would be vegan necessarily, but I can’t see Milo being the type to eat the creatures he exists so closely with

- So maybe a vegetarian, or at least the type that eats meat sometimes but avoids it for the most part

- I wanna imagine that he meshes well with anyone he meets. Bro is a pure people person

- When it comes to romance, I think he’d be very surprisingly confident

- He’s a sweet cinnamon roll but he’s not shy by any means!!

- I think he’d be pretty up-front too. If he likes you, you’ll know. Hell, maybe he’d say it outright one day while you’re just hanging out, doing something super mundane

- Milo’s definitely a gentleman. Lets you walk inside the sidewalk rather than on the street side. Opens doors for you. Walks you to your door (maybe with a cheeky smooch?) after a date night

- He’s a ditto that’s gotten REAL good at acting btw. I mean look at that cute happy little face— You hear something?

[byronic-mess]

And if you fall as Lucifer fell (you fall in flame)

relationship: Charles/Lewis

rating: gen

warnings: none

Lewis was only just waking up when he heard the sound.

It was like a bird falling out of a tree but bigger, and Lewis had to admit he was curious what could possibly have made that noise as he sat up in bed and stretched. He hoped it wasn’t some kind of vulture. The birds just creeped him out, and he’d rather not have to supervise an injured one while he waited for animal rescue. He wrapped a robe around himself and peered out the window, but couldn’t see anything from the angle of his garden. He sighed as he made his way downstairs, praying it was just a crow or something, and that it wasn’t actually injured. When Lewis looked out the glass doors that lead to his garden he paused.

Instead of a bird, there was a person in his back garden.

Well, person was probably the wrong thing to call him.

He had two black wings, enormous and smoking slightly. They curled around his body protectively, but Lewis could see enough to tell that the thing was male. When he looked up, making eye contact with Lewis, his eyes were a piercing green. He looked hurt, laying in a slight crater he had created with his fall. Lewis took a deep breath and stepped out to properly examine the creature. He flinched away when Lewis lifted one of his wings up, studying him carefully.

“I’m not going to hurt you. My name is Lewis, and you are?”

The creature blinked, and Lewis almost cursed himself for assuming it could understand him when he replied.

“I’m Charles.”

Lewis took his robe off and draped it over Charles when he noticed him shivering, pulling his wings closer to his body to keep himself warm. He seemed to shrink back from the sight of them, like they were never really his, and Lewis wondered if they’d always been black and inky, or if they’d once been a shining white like the angels of antiquity. Lewis couldn’t help but think the black suited Charles, but he kept his thoughts to himself, instead helping Charles up and guiding him inside. Lewis noticed the burns on Charles’ arms and feet, as if he’d hurtled down to earth in a ball of flame. He looked back at the crater and noticed the ground was scorched around it.

Charles’ wings fell limply to his side when Lewis guided him to sit at the counter. They threatened to knock some of the photo frames held there off their perch, but Charles just pulled them in close to his body, even as he looked at them in disgust. Lewis dug around in his cupboards for his first aid kit, deciding to focus on the burns rather than the questions running through his head. Was Charles really an angel? Has he fallen? What did he do? Charles didn’t seem to want to talk, so Lewis worked on patching him up in silence. He got a muttered thank you for his efforts, and then Charles was staring at his bandaged hands like they held all the answers he was looking for.

Lewis gave Charles his space while he made breakfast for the both of them. He made his usual, not sure what Charles could eat. He looked back at him to find Charles brushing through his wings in silence. Lewis watched as he plucked feather after feather out, as if they’d personally offended him. Eventually he put his hand on Charles’ to stop him, when he noticed the blood staining the calamuses. Charles stared at Lewis’ tattooed hand for a beat before pulling back and shaking the touch off. Lewis noticed the tears when he looked back up at Charles’ face.

Lewis wrapped his arms around Charles softly, holding him tight as his shoulders shook with sobs. He didn’t know how he got here, comforting a fallen angel in his kitchen, but he felt glad it was him that got to be in Charles’ presence like this. God knows what his neighbours would’ve done. Eventually, Charles pulled away and scrubbed at his face, bandages coming loose. The sight of his burns only made him cry harder, and Lewis rushed to fix the bandages.

“All I did was love humanity. Why was that a sin?”

Lewis ached for Charles, and he said the only thing he could think of.

“Love is never a sin, Charles.”

Charles dropped his head onto Lewis’ shoulder like his strings had been cut, and Lewis found himself rubbing the skin between Charles’ wings gently. Charles had only just crashed into Lewis’ life, and Lewis already felt like he’d do anything to make him happy. He knew Charles had lost something deeply important to him in a way that Lewis could never understand. He just wanted to be there for him as much as he could. Charles pulled back and looked at Lewis deeply, like he was searching his soul.

"You're very nice, Lewis."

Lewis smiled, thanking Charles for the compliment. At least Charles wasn't still crying or tugging at his feathers like they'd personally offended him. It was all Lewis could ask for, he supposed. They ate breakfast in silence and Lewis went up to find Charles some clothes he could wear with his wings. When he came back, he found Charles staring at a photo he'd forgotten the he had displayed. It was one of him and Nico on their wedding day.

"Who is that?"

"My ex husband."

Charles made a noise of understanding and turned away from the photo, muttering an apology. It was a very human response, and it made Lewis smile. Charles wasn't meant to be here, was meant to be in heaven watching over them all, but he was, and he was so human Lewis could barely believe it. Were all angels like Charles or was he special?

"I guess you could use special to describe me. I'd use foolish, personally."

Lewis blinked, and Charles smiled, saying his thoughts are very loud. Lewis apologised, thinking over what Charles said.

"It's never foolish to love, Charles. The world is a better place for love."

Charles thought about what Lewis said, eventually shrugging in a way that felt like him conceding the point.

“Humans are built to love. Angels are not. It is foolish that I tried.”

Lewis shook his head, because he meant it when he said it was never foolish to love.

“It’s foolish that you were punished for it, not that you tried it, Charles. They’re the fools.”

Charles seemed shocked about Lewis' frank declaration, but Lewis found that he meant it. Anyone that would give up Charles was a fool.

[wickedsrest-rp]

Name: Pedro Vázquez Species: Human (Non-powered) Occupation: Park Ranger Age: 30 Years Old Played By: Kitty Face Claim: Sean Teale

"Shut up, I’m not a Boy Scout."

Ever since he was tiny, Pedro was definitely a nature kid. He enjoyed exploring caves and climbing trees, and he had a collection of cool rocks that his mom helped him paint. His drawings involved a lot of green pencil, and/or random animals he’d either seen or imagined. In this kind of place, where birds can have human teeth, the line often blurred between those two things.

It wasn’t surprising that he enjoyed biology class as he got older, taking an eclectic mix of science and art courses, and eventually joining the Wildlife Ecology programme at UMWR - where he tagged along with cryptid searches despite being absolutely terrified about actually finding one. He didn’t want to look like a loser or anything.

His willingness to go in search of creatures in spite of his fear didn’t go unnoticed - and alongside his family name, that secured him a State Park internship. He didn’t think that was going to be his career even though his mom’s side of the family had been doing it since forever. It was always really clear it was his own decision whether to take it up, or go do something more mundane elsewhere.

Pedro’s creativity made him thrive in that environment, which was something he hadn’t quite expected. It involved more entertainer skills than he’d thought, because people remembered safety measures a lot better with a fun rhyme or a really bad pun.

The problem with working in a dangerous place for years was that you couldn’t be on your guard all the time. It was literally impossible. All it took was the combination of complacency and momentary inattention, and he found himself joining the ranks of those who’d lost their lives to the woods - or their contents.

That was, until he found it again. He doesn’t know - nor does he want to know - the details, but his mom paid someone to bring him back. She said she wasn’t going to outlive her only son, no matter the cost. Pedro refused to listen to any more explanation. Someone else had to die for him to live, he understood that much, but had no desire to find out who. He’s working on the mixed feelings he has about it all. Parents would do anything to save their kids, sure, and he gets that - but that doesn’t automatically make it okay.

Not knowing the details was his choice, and he stood by it, but that came with its consequences. The person who resurrected him could be literally anyone. He could cross paths with them any time of day and not even know about it - or maybe he would know about it in some kind of weird mystical way. They were probably evil, because you would have to be to be some kind of resurrecter-for-hire - or at least someone with way weaker of an ethical code than him. He would rather that didn’t rub off on him.

It was normal to feel lost and distant after being…re-alived, right? There’s something missing - or something off, he isn’t sure what. Maybe there’s something that’s not even him at all left over. Maybe he’s secretly evil and he doesn’t know it yet. As far as everyone else is concerned, he went missing and now he’s back. That’s how he wants to keep things. He must be overthinking this.

Except, life is never quite that simple. Try explaining to your friends who know your pain tolerance is practically zero that you somehow decided to get a creepy looking tattoo? Okay, that one can be blamed on bad life choices after a drink or several - and people are kind of willing to believe that about him. A little light bullying from colleagues is definitely better than the alternative.

But the scars are harder to cover up. Especially now it’s coming up to summertime and he doesn’t have any non-suspicious reasoning to avoid swimming and sunbathing. He has been pretty lucky so far, if you can call it that, that he seems to run colder than he used to. Maybe he’s imagining that, but people have been wondering how he can tolerate wearing a sweater on long hikes as the weather gets warmer.

For all his creativity, he isn’t good at excuses. He can’t keep them straight. Maybe if he told them the truth but made it sound like a joke? Or, he could have technically been in hospital and had it be touch-and-go for a while. They look like he went a few rounds with a clawed thing and lost, which is basically what did happen, but that in combination with the weird tattoo? Someone would put two and two together. Especially in his line of work, where the improbable was practically mundane.

Character Facts:

Personality: Good-natured, empathetic, kind, creative, fearful, uncertain, naive, daydreamer

Pedro is that person who pulls out a guitar to play Wonderwall, despite the fact that absolutely nobody likes it. He is enjoying himself, and it wards off wildlife and eldritch beings.

He likes puns entirely too much, the kind of wordplay that results in audible groans. This also means he’s part of the team that comes up with cautionary rhymes for the visitors to remember.

Prior to his untimely death, he was a Park Ranger - not necessarily a very good one, but his family have consistently served over centuries. He liked the stories, and working in the outdoors, so it wasn’t a big deal.

Pedro is bilingual (English and Spanish).

[theredpharaoah]

I think Mercer sees the Sarentu as his disobedient children. He cares for them in his own sort of psychopathic way. His mental breakdown is some part of him realizing that the people his mind considers “family” hate him. And this realization might have lead him to start questioning whether he was right all along. He knows he’s gonna die and at some level he accepts that, because he knows he’ll never have the love of the Sarentu or even be liked by them. And he’s an all or nothing type of person, so he’d rather die than not have it all. He’s essentially in a Tywin Lannister sort of situation. Mercer’s a very lonely man. Alma is a little different. I think Alma has the love of the Sarentu, but they don’t like her. It’s impossible for them not to see her as a mother-figure as she’s fulfilled that role for them since they were taken. And we know that our character was literally an infant or toddler when that occurred. She’s also spent more time in her avatar than in her human body. I’d bet that when they think of her they see her Avatar form and not her human one. It’s kind of impossible for a creature not to latch on and attach to the safest and most stable thing in their environment - Alma. But they’ve grown and learned that she was abusive in her own way - whether that be due to bowing to her delusions of not knowing what would happen and what was happening, and/or her bowing to Mercer.

I will say that I do think Alma did a lot in trying to right her wrong and paying her penance. I don’t think they should’ve killed her Avatar. I think they should’ve had Eywa Jake Sully her, and have her become even more aggressive in taking down the RDA. Her taking the blast for Nor and the Sarentu should’ve kind of been where the whole Alma story ended. I feel like going to Tap Con 1 was useless and dumb because we already knew that the RDA had massacred the clan. And I feel like Alma should’ve told them the part she played in their kidnapping way earlier. I also thought they were teasing a begrudging romance between So’Lek and Alma but then they killed her avatar so…