#contract: hare

[xpolarisx]

Timeline: Mid February, 2025 Notes: In which Polaris completes a contract and rejoins the Thieves Guild Word Count: 1510

There might never come a day when Polaris could walk familiar streets without seeing the bones that waited beneath. Lôrien'dal, a city built upon the remnants of the Cataclysm, carried echoes of its past beneath every cobblestone. Yet, the Hare’s directive had been clear. A decade ago, the dragon might’ve hesitated. But after ingratiating himself into the elvhen court, he welcomed the chance to sharpen skills dulled by neglect. Polaris would spread his metaphorical wings, sharpen his claws, and prepare to take flight once more. 

Polaris moved through the city with the grace of a shadow woven into its tapestry. The air carried the sweet scent of night-blooming jasmine, mingling with the distant whispers of fountains and the hum of twilight conversations. The master bard could, at any time, be as noticeable or as inconspicuous as he desired. Unfortunately mastery didn’t come with the symptoms of fame and even when Polaris moved silently there was every risk of detection lurking around the corner. Nobles of the Silverlands did what they did best: talk. Polaris played his part well, charm and wit drawing them closer as he steered conversations toward recent arrivals and whispered dealings.

Lord Eolande’s estate towered above the city, its spires brushing the sky. Within, vaulted ceilings arched over walls adorned with tapestries depicting ancient heroes, while a harpist’s silver melody threaded through the air. Accepting a goblet of wine from a passing servant, Polaris surveyed the room with casual ease, eyes flicking from one cluster of nobles to another. His smile masked the flicker of tension within - a reminder of the stakes should he fail. At every turn, the Great Game was at play, but Polaris introduced another set of rules. He wouldn’t trade blows at the top of the stairs, or snatch at someone’s hand when they reached for concealed secrets. No, he would smile, entertain, and do what came naturally to the bard - gather intel. 

It was Lady Lyria who offered the first thread worth pulling. Her smile hinted at mischief as she leaned close, voice dipped in conspiratorial whisper as she spoke of a merchant who frequented the quarter, one with a key of a most unusual make. It was Lady Lyria’s assumption that the goods the merchant peddled were ill gotten, but Polaris could only press, good-naturedly, how might such a possession come into unwitting hands?

Polaris thanked her with a smile that promised secrets of its own. Yet, as she departed, a trace of unease lingered in his chest. Trust was a currency he could ill afford but his mask was convicted and irrefutable, while she remained every bit the gossip he remembered. Naturally, there was an invitation to follow her between the sheets but with work at hand and someone waiting for him back in Eterna, Polaris abstained. 

The days that followed were a dance of shadows and patience. The market’s clamor of spices, silk, and whispered deals became his stage. His gaze lingered on the fountain’s shifting reflections - stone carved with scenes from the city’s past. When the merchant appeared, Polaris followed. He learned the cadence of the man's life: dawn visits to the market where fingers traced rare silks and eyes scanned ancient scrolls, afternoons spent in half-empty taverns whose shadows clung like old secrets, and nights at a secluded inn on the outskirts where murmured conversations danced beneath candlelight.

Patience became Polaris’s closest ally. Rain soaked through his cloak as he waited in alleyways veiled in half-light. Steps softened against cobblestone as he followed from rooftops where lanterns flickered like distant stars. More than once, the merchant glanced over his shoulder as if sensing unseen eyes, but Polaris had honed invisibility into an art long before this city’s stones were laid. Each heartbeat marked a step in the slow, deliberate waltz of predator and prey.

Yet, beneath the rhythm of his pursuit, old memories stirred. Centuries of service whispered in the corners of his mind - the faces of kings and courtiers, debts sealed in blood, and alliances forged in shadow. He had worn a thousand masks, each tethered to another’s will. And yet, each step through Lôrien'dal’s labyrinthine streets stirred something unfamiliar - a longing not for freedom, but for a purpose shaped by his own hand.

On the fifth night, Polaris found the merchant alone, seated at a corner table in the tavern near the city’s western gates. Lamplight glinted off a silver key that hung from a chain at the man’s belt - a key that Polaris knew held the final thread to his quarry. Rain whispered against the window as Polaris settled into the shadows, his gaze never leaving the merchant’s hands as they traced the worn edges of a leather-bound ledger. The air between them hummed with unspoken tension, a silent acknowledgment that the chase was nearing its end.

A night of rain veiled Polaris's approach as he trailed the merchant through the city’s labyrinthine alleys. Stone lanterns cast pools of golden light, their reflections shimmering in rain-slicked cobblestones. When the merchant paused at a secluded doorway, Polaris melted into shadow. His heart beat steady, his breath slow as the man disappeared within. Minutes later, Polaris stepped forward, fingers tracing the faint emblem etched into the door’s frame - a sigil of the Hare’s network. The game was nearing its end.

Lord Eolande’s grand event arrived with a hush of anticipation. Candlelight glimmered against silk and silver, and the air thrummed with whispered schemes. Polaris, dressed in midnight velvet, took to the stage with his lute, recently polishing the rust until his instrument. Fingers spun melodies of longing and moonlight, holding the crowd rapt. At the back of the room, the merchant lingered - eyes sharp despite the wine in his hand, fingers brushing the key at his belt with a reflex born of habit.

Polaris moved through the crowd as if carried by the music’s spell. Each step measured, each glance calculated. Passing the merchant, his hand brushed fabric for the barest instant - swift and unseen.

The key was cool against his palm.

No cry of alarm followed. No eyes turned as Polaris vanished into the sea of silk and candlelight. At the room’s edge, Lady Elowen watched him - a cascade of silk and jewels carved from moonlight and ambition. Polaris slipped the key into a place she would find it, along with a note bearing the Hare’s regards and a flourish of his own: For the pleasure of your company.

As the final notes of the evening faded, Polaris bowed to the gathered nobility, their applause rising like the hum of distant wings. This revelry came easy to him, it was a simple dance carved between himself and the mindless masses that flit about. It wasn’t as if Polaris held any contempt for them, but the dragon was in a constant contest between what he was, what the Aetherians had tried to make him, and what he might yet make of this age. The lines of laughter could be traid, circulating the bard’s atmosphere before Polaris faded away, seamlessly. When the last echoes faded into murmurs, he was gone - vanishing into Lôrien'dal’s night, his task complete.

Beyond the estate walls, the city stretched beneath a canopy of stars. Polaris moved through narrow streets where lanterns swayed on iron hooks, their golden glow painting shifting patterns across stone. Yet, as he paused beneath the arch of an ancient bridge, another thought stirred - one that whispered of choices unmade and paths unseen.

Laughter followed. A sharp bark that echoed off the cold, wet stones of the archway. He’d done it - beautifully - in fact. Without a witness and with nothing more than a pair of elvhen hands. For the dragon, this should have been a meager accomplishment when the trials of the Eluvian still hung behind him. But he felt alive and in control for the first time in an age. Not an Aetherian puppet, or a creature clinging to a veneer that he couldn’t hold, instead someone finally taking steps to regaining his autonomy. 

Too many years Polaris had been carved into just one shape, but he’d come to learn that this caste that he’d been put into could be broken. The chains the Aetherians bound him with still left their mark in the form of scars that would never heal, but the dragon would never be that prisoner again. He was unbound and unchained and beholden to nobody’s whims but his own. Polaris had felt it in the wind and heard it in the breeze, drifting from the lips of adventurers and peddlers alike: the age of the dragons had come. 

His path led beyond Lôrien'dal, but Polaris lingered in its depths a moment longer. Beneath ancient arches and starlit eaves, a shadow within a world of whispers, he wondered if the day might come when he would walk these streets free of ghosts. For now, the night embraced him as one of its own, and he vanished into its depths once more:

Mission complete.

[gentlehousenicole]

I was speaking with Qingyi earlier, and she told me that, in the Old Civilization, many people used to hold a festival every year around this time in honor of a goddess of bunny girls~!

I think learning about our history is very important as a people, though I had to remind her I wouldn't be considered a bunny girl~:

The term "bunny" traditionally referred to a rabbit, and hares are not rabbits~!

[witch-sweets]

I made another ahit oc-

This time she's based on the Casino level in psychonauts 2

Meet Harriet the lucky hare aka the owner of the hare paw "lounge" (its basically a casino) a small establishment located in the metro filled with cats, bunnies, birds, and mafia goons alike this place is giving out Timepieces as it's jackpot prize so you need to win some luckily Harriet is a generous dealer willing to let you play against her if you give up one specific little peice of paper to bet

Oh did I mention she's from a rival gang and wants vengeance on The Empress? Because she knows your apart.of the Nyakuza and she uses that information to pull a little bit of trickery

doodles under the cut!

[leepores]

tag drop.

[infotainer]

Watch till end 😱😱😱😱😱😱😱 #dwarka #krishna #mystry #history #adventure #gujarat #india #viral #trending #best #loving #entertainment #wisdom #knowledge

[kitxkatrp]

Muse BIO: Liam Lunettes (aka Reim Lunettes)

BIO can be found here. Liam is a studious character who can be found working a majority of the time. He is contracted to the March Hare and is best friends with Xerxes Break and Sharon Rainsworth.

Also please note I use his unofficial translation for his name, as that is the one I grew up reading and using before it was fixed.

[therealefl]

“It’s As Simple As That Really” - Coventry City Boss Provides Important Contract Update

 Coventry City manager Mark Robins has confirmed the club ‘fully intended’ on keeping ahold of playmaker Callum O’Hare, despite the midfielder entering the final 12 months of his contract, as reported by Coventry Live.  The 25-year-old hasn’t featured for the Sky Blues in almost nine months following an ACL injury but Mark Robins is adamant that the club are desperate to keep ahold of their…

[everythingne]

learning curve - cs55

williams is a new territory. his co-head engineers is an interesting idea, until he meets you, and learns of why he needs someone else on the radio.

haring impaired!williams engineer reader x carlos sainz

James was far too excited to have Carlos here so god damn early. But, as Carlos knew, the racing world didn't wait for anybody. Engineers dipped in and out of rooms, hands flicking as the spoke, heads nodding or shaking along with ideas or with procedures.

"And here," James grandly gestures to the small team that's working on installing Carlos' newly fitted seat into the shell of a car, "is team fifty-five."

A few heads pop up from his new mechanics, analysts, engineers, a few waves Carlos returns before James is bringing him to the side where a large computer is set up. Two people sitting at the screen. The man turns his head, smiling warmly in greeting as the person next to him--you, keeps her head down and scribbles some notes on a drawing of the car.

"This is YN, the one writing, and Luca. Both pulled in from Ferrari, from junior Engineers to senior. Figured a fresh start would be best for all of us until we can secure more full season contracts for your team." James explains and Carlos feels entrapped by you, watching the way your tongue darts out for a moment as you think, before your head goes right back down.

"Two head engineers?" Carlos asks softly, after shaking Luca's hand in greeting. James nods to Luca, and he turns and quickly taps the desk next to you, and you perk up and unplug your airbuds... or something similar.

"YN is hard of hearing, Luca's makes sure she doesn't miss anything. YN doesn't usually, and she'll understand you well as long as she can read your lips." James explains, and you nod.

"Don't be afraid to talk to me," You say, folding your hands in your lap, "Most people just ask Luca but he hates talking to people."

"I do." Luca nods, face red, "I'd rather be hiding. YN will speak to you on the pit wall. The board connects right to her hearing aids."

"Oh, thats really nice." He says and you nod, bursting into a explanation that has your face all bright and smiley and god damnit if it doesn't make his heart skip. After a moment, James pulls Carlos away, but your looks linger a little longer after that.

-

Two weeks in and Carlos knows some BSL. He practices to himself most nights in the hotel, signing over and over: drag, lift, broken, okay, the alphabet, basic letters, and the signs he's noticed you do for over and understeering. He doesn't need to know BSL to communicate with you, your hearing aids and lip reading have been working just fine for two weeks before testing days, but he figures it might be easier--and a nice little secret to have, on days where the garage is swimming with noise.

Alex has picked up more than he has, and while Carlos is a little envious at Alex's ability to just absorb, it's not like he's practicing sentences.

Which Carlos has been. Simple ones so far, but he finds it so enchanting when you and Luca go off on BSL tangents, the little secret code of your hand gestures and expressions so amazing to him.

Day one of testing is by far the longest day of your and Carlos' life. You both sit there pouring over data and models, running simulation after simulation while Carlos pokes at every level of information you have and questions it. Luca watches you both silently, noting the way Carlos hangs on your suggestions and you nod at his inputs.

Neither of you break for lunch, pushing aside the catered meals to look over more data from the rear wing. By the time the mechanics came back, you had a whole new wing plan. Same with dinner plans. But you're kicked out of the track by midnight, the last two people closing up shop, still talking about designs and new plans as you both stand next to each other from the second you leave to the second you get into the lobby of the hotel.

You bid Carlos goodnight, but read his lips as the batteries on your hearing aids are dangerously low.

Day two is the same. You and Carlos wake up excessively early, are the first ones there, but mid way through the day you notice something. Your hearing aids are fucking dead.

Carlos comes into the garage with a grin, chattering to you about something exciting, but his lips move so quickly and differently from British accented words you lose him.

Carlos blinks. Pause. And then nervously signs, 'fixed the understeer.'

You blink. Pause. And then break into a grin, whacking his arms.

"Good job." You say, though you aren't sure how loud, before holding up a finger for him to wait as you rush to your purse and dig out the back-up batteries. It takes a few seconds for you to find them in the bottom corner of the bag--but you pop them in and adjust the volume a bit before rushing back over.

"Sorry! They died!" You tap the hearing aids and Carlos nods, smiling to you with a little tilt of his head, "When did you learn to sign?"

Carlos' cheeks are a little red as he shrugs, "I don't know if I did it well, but I've been practicing for a bit. It's always so loud in here, I don't know how you hear everything."

You shrug, tilt your head, "You get used to picking out the important noises, it's not that much different from you."

Over the next few months, as you and Carlos adapt to the car and to the team, you find he's picked up more and more sign language. You idly teach him some in his spare time, words slowly drifting from racing notes to everyday phrases, to names for people across the tracks, to jokes. By Monaco, you've taught him enough for semi-fluency, and you don't know how he's managed to pick up a whole new language so quickly but you're not complaining.

It happens after Monaco quali. You're sitting on the floor of his drivers room while he's being stretched out post race, your hands moving idly along with your words as you speak, Carlos watching intently. There's been a shift, you note, and when Carlos' holds hand for you to pause, you do.

'Going to dinner tonight?' his signs are a little wobbly, but you get the gist.

'At the hotel, maybe.'

Carlos hesitates for probably a whole thirty seconds before, 'Want to go out? Only us two.'

'A date?'

'Yes.'

You blink. Then slap his hands with a loud laugh--Teto leaning his head back to look at you two from the other side of the room, the other various 55 members chuckling at the exchange.

'You learned sign just to ask that didn't you?' You keep the conversation silent, but the smirk on Carlos' face probably tells everyone what you're both conversing.

'Maybe.' His smirk doubles and you flush. Somehow, Carlos has done the most thoughtful thing, by doing the most basic thing at the same time.

general tag list:

@d3kstar @justalittlejess @tvdtw4ever @llando4norris @daemyratwst @piastri-fvx @sltwins @armystay89 @leclercdream

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Hare and Bunny Hybrids (1)

Inspired by the Hare and Bunny Drawing by @aevris

For creatures with such similar appearances, they couldn’t be more different 

When you first went to the shelter that housed poor hybrids you found the two wrongfully grouped as bunny hybrids 

Rather than separated from one another as bunny and hare respectfully

Though your future hare hybrid couldn’t look more bothered

Your future bunny paid no attention lovingly squishing into the hare’s side 

“And here we have our bunny hybrids! Aren’t they cute cuddling each other?”

“The um bigger one doesn’t look too happy to be there…”

“Don’t mind him, he can be a little grumpy! That's all!”

When you finally got to meet them their acceptance of you was widely different

Where the bunny hybrid practically launched himself into your arms

The hare only plopped next to you, ignoring you when you finally freed an arm to hold him too

“Oh my gouda!” 

“W-what?”

“That’s the closest he’s stood next to anyone in that form! This must be a miracle!”

You didn’t mind taking two, you’d make it work

Especially with the discount they were offering you with an oddly worded contract

“By signing this you agree to take both of the store’s bunnies for over 10 days despite incident, injury, or suspicious decline in health?”

“Oh just filibuster! Just go ahead and sign right here, yup. Quickly please.”

When you finally have them both home, they’ll settle into their routines, more than happy to finally make themselves at home

Your hare hybrid - Jared was pleased to have a room to himself 

Finally allowed to embrace the solitude that comes naturally to a hare

“This is sick. Thanks short-stack.”

“Uh, you're welcome.”

Your bunny hybrid–Cryst on the other hand is appalled 

Falling to his knees he’s full-blown crying because he’s all alone in his room

“Nooooo! Do you want me to die all alone!? Stay with me, Master please!”

“Okay okay you can stay with me, just don’t call me Master. Hey! And please stop pulling on my shirt!”

This fear of loneliness never stops 

Cryst cries when you tell him the concept of a job 

He cries even harder when you tell him you have one

Jared on the other hand is relaxed he knows you’ll come back you better

Until then he’ll try to keep Cryst calm

After all, he doesn’t need the bunny ruining his stay with you not after all those other times

Granted he’s never agreed with Cryst’s choices until now 

And he’s more than used to cleaning up after him at this point

Bloody or otherwise

But that shouldn’t need to happen as long as you stay focused on them

Right?

Part 2

[docgold13]

The Folks behind the Toons

Mel Blanc

Melvin Jerome Blanc was born on May 30, 1908, in San Francisco, California. He was the younger of two children born to Eva and Frederick Blank who were Jewish immigrants.  Blanc demonstrated a talent for voices and dialect early on, which he began practicing at the age of 10. He claimed that he changed the spelling of his name when he was 16, from Blank to Blanc, because a teacher told him that he would amount to nothing and be like his name, a ��blank.”

Blanc began his radio career at the age of 19 in 1927, when he made his acting debut on the KGW program The Hoot Owls.  His ability to provide voices for multiple characters garnered a good deal of attention from radio show producers and opened the door for for many radio jobs. He moved to Los Angeles in 1932, where he met Estelle Rosenbaum, whom he married a year later.  In 1933 Blanc produced and co-hosted the radio show Cobweb and Nuts alongside his wife Estelle.  He would go on to become a regular on the NBC Red Network show The Jack Benny Program.  Here Blanc voiced various roles and became a standout on the program.  

In 1936, Mel Blanc joined Leon Schlesinger Productions, which was producing theatrical cartoon shorts for Warner Bros.The directors Tex Avery, Bob Clampett, Friz Freleng, and Frank Tashlin, were all quickly smitten with Blanc’s vocals and range and he was cast in numerous shorts.  The first cartoon Blanc worked on was Picador Porky (1937) as the voice of Porky Pig's drunken friends who dress up as a bull.  He soon thereafter voiced PorkyPig in Porky's Duck Hunt; a short that marked the debut of Daffy Duck, also voiced by Blanc.  

Beginning with the 1940 short, A Wild Hare, Blanc became the voice for Bugs Bunny.  Before long, Blanc was working on dozens of cartoons, voicing Bugs, Porky and Daffy, along with a variety of additional characters.  He additionally lent his voice to projects at other studios, doing uncredited work at Disney as well as voicing Woody Woodpecker for Universal Pictures.  

During the Second World War, Blanc voiced the hapless Private Snafu in a series of shorts produced by Warner Bros. utilized as helping to train recruited soldiers through the medium of animation.  

Voice actors throughout the golden age of animation rarely if ever received screen credits.  Being so valuable to Warner Brothers, Blanc lobbied to become an exception and by 1944, his contract with Warner Bros. stipulated a credit reading ‘Voice characterizations by Mel Blanc.’  Initially, Blanc's screen credit was limited only to cartoons in which he voiced Bugs Bunny. This changed in March 1945 when the contract was amended to also include a screen credit for cartoons featuring Porky Pig and/or Daffy Duck.  His efforts led the way for other voice actors receiving on screen credit.  

Blanc continued to work with Warner Brothers through the 1960, but also lent his talents to the fledgling studio of Hanna-Barbera Productions.  Characters that Blanc voiced for Hanna-Barbera included Barney Rubble of The Flintstones, Cosmo Spacely from The Jetsons, Secret Squirrel, Speed Buggy, Captain Caveman, Wally Gator and others. 

Blanc was involved in a terrible automobile accident in 1961 that left him in a coma.  He ultimately made a full recovery and the story is that when he was first becoming responsive, Blanc only communicated in the voices of his characters, Bugs bunny, Tweety Bird and Porky Pig.  During his recovery, Blanc’s son Noel filled in for his father on projects for Warner Brothers.  Noel was additionally a talented voice actor and was able to near-seamlessly imitate his father’s vocals for some of his characters.  Voice actors Stan Freberg and Jerry Hausner also briefly filled in for Blanc’s characters whist Blanc was recovering from his accident.  

Blanc and his son would go on to found Blanc Communications Corporation, a media company which produced over 5,000 commercials and public service announcements.  In the public service announcements, Mel and Noel appeared with many stars, including Kirk Douglas, Lucille Ball, Vincent Price, Phyllis Diller, Liberace and The Who.

Blanc continued to work with Warner Brothers well into his older years.  He helped to train many of the voice actors who would go on to replace him in the his most notable roles.  

A lifelong smoker, difficulties with emphysema and COPD made working progressively more difficult and Blanc retired in 1988; his final role being the voice of the streetwise cat in the Ruby-Spears Production, Heathcliff.  

Blanc passed away in 1989 at the age of 81.  His wife Estelle never remarried and died in 2003 at the age of 94.  Their son Noel continued to work as a voice actor performing in a wide variety of projects ranging from Loony Tunes to Family Guy.  Noel retired in 2005.  

Tha-Tha-Tha-That’s All Folks!  

[writerandbaka]

The jackal and the witch AU ～ Collei and Amber 🌿🐰

Today's reference sheet is all for these two precious little girls, witch Collei and her familiar Amber!

What animal could I choose for Amber but the hare? Ofc the choice was pretty obvious ahah 🐇 Passionate and exuberant, this little one knows how to stand up for herself and her loved ones despite her fluffy and adorable appearance. Ah, and she's also a really big fan of gossip and love stories! ʕ •̀ ω •́ ʔ✨

Collei, instead, is a young witch who got a late start in the study of magic, having suffered as a child from an illness that debilitated her for much of her childhood. Although she's quite shy and somewhat awkward, because of her hard past, she's talented and strives to catch up with other students (੭ˊ꒳​ˋ)੭📚

Since they entered into a contract, Collei's life and character have been profoundly improved, rubbed off by Amber's cheerful and optimistic personality, which has shown her that, despite the girl's unfortunate childhood, this doesn't necessarily mean that things have to go wrong in the future as well 😌💚

If the two of them has made you curious about this fantasy AU, here are other reference sheets that I've already drawn: Tighnari and Cyno / Kaveh and Alhaitham

Wopss is this a little preview and spoiler for tomorrow's chapter? Maybe, maybe... who knowsss 🤭⭐

[bonefries]

Outlast Trials | Fanfiction | Mostly SFW + Depictions of gore / little bit of suggestive groping.

The Fox and the Hare | Franco Barbi x (Reagent OC) Sister Elizabeta

This picture is now the cover for this one shot I wrote about Eli and Franco! This is the story about the first time Eli reveals to Franco that she wants to cannibalize his heart. I've never really written a fic before so I gave it a try. (Please go easy on me. Writing is not my first skill.)

(Outlast Trials story, you have been warned.) Writing under the cut!

"5 AM in the Goddamn morning." Franco's voice rumbled from his bed at the less than pleasurable sound of the morning intercom. The crackling static of the Murkoff speaker as it popped on to inform him that he has 15 minutes to prepare before his first appearance of the day.

His blanket would shuffle as he struggled to slump himself forward, clearing the morning gunk from his throat and rubbing the dust from his eyes. Lifting his ring finger to his face, he delicately massaged the thin layer of his eyelid. In this gesture he would push away the pesky tears that pooled along his waterline.

"Marone." He would roll off his tongue in agitation. There are few individuals that opt to run his stage so early before sunrise.

This was, even for him, too goddamn early. However, it was all a part of the contract. On call at whatever moment of the day Murkoff desired. In exchange, Franco is given his milk and honey. The heroin operations intact, his clientele happy and paying, and his protection guaranteed from whomever senior Salvatore may still be trying to throw his way to disturb his little slice of heaven. Though, one did think about the audacity it took for him to be so inconvenienced by waking up early for work. He was, after all, complaining from his large and private bedroom that was custom fitted with all of his nice things. From his silky bed sheets to his hardwood armoire that held his finely tailored wardrobe. The things he can't help but want because of his upbringing in a luxury lifestyle. Back then, young Barbi could have whatever he wanted so long as it didn't require Daddy's love and affection. "Who the fuck wants to be in there at ass crack'a dawn." Franco would take a deep breath, the air hissing through him as he swung his legs over the side of his bed. The already irritated Barbi had no intentions of getting dressed this first time around as he searched his bed for his evening robe. As he sat on the edge of his sheets, he would run his fingers over the side of his head to feel how his wound was fairing. It was a regular issue that he has long since discarded serious care for. The chemicals Murkoff pumped into him at regular check ups somehow managed to keep the infection in line just enough every time. But, it was still a chronic pain. And of course, the dressings he had gone to sleep with were off once again. He could never manage to get them to stick as he would toss and turn throughout his appointed resting periods. At his bedside of course, sat his precious Lupara. He'd grab the gun with a haste most only saw in soldiers hurried to war.

"I'll be fucked if some spunky little cunt is really lookin for a fight this early in the mornin." He spat with a jagged scowl.

If it truly was some reagent with the balls to be so punctual, he wasn't going to give them the pleasure of seeing him in his proper work attire. Hell, the only thing he truly bothered with were his socks and shoes. The small man had every intention of looking ridiculous for the poor sucker he was hoping to find. --------

"Good morning Mr. Barbi." Said the man behind the glass. Waiting for Franco at this gated entrance as always. "Up yours, scum pig." Franco would snarl, with no hesitation and no eye contact to spare. Never had he cared for the authority around him that Murkoff provided. This may be their set up, but this was his turf, as far as he was concerned. Once he was past the gate and through the doorway, he would be in the facility. With Lupara over his shoulder, he would stop to stare out into the distance of the Docks. Searching for anything out of the ordinary.

The morning silence was deafening. “So fuckin early even the rats ain’awake yet.”

Franco stated as he stepped along metal staircases and wooden hallways. The disgusting smell of sulfur, like that of rotting eggs. The fake simulated cries of seagulls and the moist sloshing of water and carnage against the cargo ship. He would make his way to the rising platform that laid beneath the hatch, expecting to find someone perhaps within the bridge. As his footsteps trebled against the metal panels of the floor, his predatory intuition made clear that his prey was not too far off. Something in the air changed, a presence, a frequency. A silent alarm, if any. And it made his trigger finger itch.

But his gut warned him to hold steady. And gently, Franco pushed open a door to the bridge control room. The red lighting in the room would make it rather easy for someone to sit still and eventually slide by quietly. Like a conniving little rat. But this wasn't the case, as the intruder made no real efforts to conceal themselves.

A figure hunched over a box of junk and trinkets. The sound of objects being picked up, inspected perhaps, and dropped back in. Though there was something odd about the way that they did, as there didn't appear to be much urgency in their gestures. At least not the kind that you would expect from most reagents.

"Who the fuck is that!?" Franco asserted. Aiming his Lupara with a ferocity that came quicker than the pull of the trigger.

It wasn't more than a second before the hunched figure rose to their full height, head turning slightly to capture a side eye view of Franco's threat posture. Their gaze presented with a very silent and eerie calmness despite the gun pointed to them.

"Thats an awful rude way to greet 'a girl so early in the morning, Mista' Bambino." A voice with a short fuse for patience spoke out to him. You could hear the small gasp that wormed it's way out of the mobster's lungs after being addressed. Franco would drop his hostile pose with Lupara still in his hand. Motioning his arms forward, he gestured the way one would when asking for a hug.

"Lizzy!" Shouted the Barbi.

The giantess gave Franco the quick up and down. Her eyes hung in a way that made them look so soft, but sad. The same way a Forget-Me-Not makes you feel by it's name.

"Doooon't you Lizzy me buster! Yous was just aimin'that goddamn Lupara at the backa' my head!" Her shoulders would jerk around, a small medicine bottle in one hand while the other put up a scolding finger.

Franco would note that she didn't look like her typical self. While she dawned her ever holy reagent bindings and gear, something was unkempt about her.

Her hair was frizzy and bedridden, her make up was fading and tacky along the features and creases of her face. Loosely fitted from her body was a hand made evening jumper. The material looked surprisingly close to the silk of his sheets back in his bedroom. Lastly her stockings were put on in a hurry. They were already full of tears and holes as they pulled against the shape of her legs. For her that had been good enough, and she had walked into the trial shuttle without any shoes.

The two would walk forward from their respective spots in the room, meeting each other half way.

"No, no, Lizzy! You know I'd never take a shot at ya! I-I ain't seen ya in a week I wasn't thinkin it was you!"

Franco's demeanor would shift ever so quickly to that of a begging pup as he put his hands together. Pleading with Lizzy that he was not out of line. That he did good hesitating before letting his trigger finger do the talking for him. "S-Sugar." He would stutter, his expression failing to show any real confidence in his display.

Lizzy would roll her eyes and shake her head. The finger that did the scolding now gently brushing through the front patch of Franco's hair.

"Yeah well, I didn't have much of a choice Barbi doll." She said.

Her nails gently pushed the strands of greasy hair into their signature swirl on his forehead. The gentleness of her motion reflected in the way it felt. A slight tickle on top of the skin, oh, it was something so minor that could make a man like Franco purr.

She could melt him like butter. His knees could turn to jelly on the spot as she stroked his hair. Like being praised for good behavior while he batted his eyelashes at her. Despite how disheveled she would consider herself in the moment, she was his Madonna. An icon he'd get on his knees to worship while he pleaded for her forgiveness and her blessings.

"One of tha'rookies in my cell block is havin a tough time with a nasty stab wound. I said I'd go get them somethin first thing in the mornin." She explained. The tone of her voice suggesting that she was, in fact, the one looking for forgiveness.

"I didn't mean to wake ya up Frankie- Honest. But yous was the first in rotation today." Lizzy tried to assure him, her fingers clenching lightly to his chin. Making him look into her eyes while she tried to reason her actions to him.

Her hands were so soft, except for her pointer finger. He could feel the callused tip of it, making it stand out against the rest. The spot where she pricked too much from sewing without a thimble or machine guard, surely.

Smitten, his mouth would curl into a dotting smile. How he wished she would give him more than just this simple restraint. Though, the thought would quickly pass as his expression changed. Resembling that of a mean and feral tom cat. Scrunched together, like there was a bad taste past his tongue and teeth.

"Wait wait. You got up at this time for some....random newbie! Lizzy. C'mon what'dya get outta helpin these people!" Franco would argue. He was more upset on her behalf than she was.

In fact, she didn't seem to protest the task at all.

"These people ain't got nothin for you. You fuckin know that. Whats'tha sense in goin through.......through this kind of bullshit! Eh?" The little man would kick his leg limply as he let his fuse run without much thought to his outburst. Lizzy offered no real response other than a puff of air. Her red painted nail would lightly poke Bambino on his nose while she uttered something.

"Look Frankie. You might get a nice cozy spot all to ya'self but I share a parlor'wit a buncha other people. Some'a them need someone to look out for them alright?" The woman didn't say much else other than to point out that it was a simple act of kindness for a wounded stranger. "They're just taking advantage of'ya Liz." He grumbled and grabbed her free hand by the wrist. Holstering Lupara for the moment, a thing he rarely did when he was out and about.

"They ain't workin hard like you do, baby. They're just lookin to get what they can outta ya, and then suck you for every last drop you got." Franco's tone would once again reach a level of irritation. He hissed in a low volume and moved to hold her hand in his palms.

"You can't just go willy fuckin nilly doin shit for these people. They're gonna stab you in the back the second they get the goddamn chance."

The way Franco said it truly reflected how often he looked over his shoulder. One could imagine that he never meant a hand shake a day in his life, or that his fingers surely ached from how often they were crossed behind his back. It takes a rat to know a rat, and he has been both rodent and thief in his day.

"Frankie, you're ova'reactin. It's just a little medicine, sourpuss." Lizzy would puff her cheeks out, unbothered by the assumptions Franco was making. She calmly slid her hand away from his grasp to gesture as she spoke.

"Besides....Gave me a reason to come see ya'didn't it?" She giggled at the statement, her fingers running down the open lining of his evening robe. Adjusting the fabric slightly, Lizzy would cup the side of Franco's face. Feeling the heat from his cheeks that she couldn't see on him now.

Franco just stared at her. His thick eyelashes flickering as he blinked in confusion and bashfulness. He didn't want to admit he had gotten a little overworked about the situation, but he had to muster up an excuse of some sort, right?

"Y-yeah. So what if it did? I ain't gonna thank'em! And now I'm all fuckin worked up and out here in my fuckin pajamas!" The man whined. A wincing pitch to his voice that made one feel like they were fighting with a child.

"Fuckin...mothafucka.." Bambino growled to himself. Massaging his eyelids softly once again to push the waterworks away.

"Aw, my poor Bambino. Always cryin, never'sad." Lizzy would bend down to kiss his temple. A faint smear of red tint from her lipstick that she'd had on since the day before. It's darkness was only visible if you really looked for it under the red light of the bridge. Franco's sad moans would cease after this short reward, but only briefly.

For Franco, especially at this time, it still wasn't enough.

"Mother...May I?" He winced and groaned. The sound he made was pathetic to say the least. Like a pained beast, begging to be put out of it's misery. He ran his hands up the woman's sides, gripping them securely much like the way he would grip his precious Lupara.

Lizzy's eyebrows would raise in surprise by his assertiveness in this moment. She scoffed and shook her head. "You'know I ain't got time't fool around wit' you Frankie." She protested. Looking into those sad puppy dog eyes of his. Lizzy had a strong will, but sometimes the break line was thin. She sighed. "C'mere Barbi Doll. Give mama some sugar." She beckoned him with her finger. "Marone...." The mobster buried his face into her belly without a moment's notice. Whispering sweet nothings into the pit of her stomach. His sweating skin sticking to the cool silk that hung loose from her figure. Nosing at it like a desperate animal in heat. Breathing in her scent like it was the last thing he’d do. "Look at what ya'do t'me..." The words crawled out of his mouth like a bum from the gutter. Desperate and yearning.He could never have what he wanted most from her. No matter how many times she appeared on his stage. A dream that was far off, but he had played in his head one hundred times over. The idea of getting warm and close to Lizzy in such a manner made his heart skip and his head spin. He couldn't even catch his breath to properly word the excitement it brought him. So instead, he tried to show it through physical affections as he tugged Lizzy closer to himself. His hands cusped just under her wide and soft curvature. Lizzy's expression would go from soft to perky and surprised at the sudden affections. “What do I do to you, Barbi Doll?” She whispered the question into the air as the tension built itself up. The musk was thick from the stage’s fake salt and morning fog that poured from machines in the walls. "You make baby crazy, Liz…” He groveled as his legs failed to hold him up any longer. Holding on to her ankles for dear life as he looked up at her face. His palms rubbing past the holes in her stockings, occasionally slipping a finger under the fabric to circle her skin tenderly. He would heave slightly as he leaned forward to kiss at the shimmering fabric. The woman stared intently at his display of affection. At the vulnerable state he was willing to subject himself to so he could hear her affirmations. And all she could do was watch him as he kissed at her feet. His lips were dry and sticky as he peppered trails up each leg. One at a time. An alarm was going off somewhere inside her head. The way Franco appeared at the floor before her made her skin hot and her stomach warm. A smirk would creep at the corners of her face, only emphasized by the red lipstick colors that stained her mouth. “Bambino…” Lizzy said. Franco’s short breaths paused as he made eye contact with her upon his title being named. “You know what you make me want to do?” She questioned.

Franco's eyes would light up at the opportunity to ask her. What did he make her want to do. How did she feel? "Mother...Please...." His voice was eager and hurried, like it was being squeezed from him.

"W-what do I make you wanna do, Mother... Tell me. Please." Franco's head was almost on the ground as he bowed it to the question.

"Mother please." The man child begged.

"Heh.." The tall woman snickered and cleared her throat. The air hissing as it sucked in past her teeth that she bared. And if it hadn't been for the lighting one could swear that she had the grin of a predator. Sharp and wanting. Drooling. Itching to snap down on bone and flesh.

Franco's eyes darted back up as he stared from below. The silence getting heavier and heavier with every second that passed. Waiting for her answer.

Before he could gather the air to speak and cut through the quiet, he was hoisted into the air. Lizzy having put down the medicine bottle to give herself more control and range to handle Barbi.

"My Little Baby Barbi Doll." She sang. She pulled his small body close to her so they were nose to nose. Holding him as if he weighed nothing more than a toy to her. Her facial features formed what could only be described as an intoxicated expression.

"If I had it my way..." She giggle-whispered. Her high pitched tone jittering as though something was very funny to her.

"If I had it my way, Barbi Doll. I'd reach my hand right through that little barrel chest'a yours." Lizzy circled her finger nail lightly over the skin above Franco's heart.

"I'd push past your ribs...until I could feel'ya heart between my fingers. And yank it right outta ya. Tubes and all." As Lizzy detailed the viscera of the scene in her head, you could hear the peak of the pleasure she took in describing it. In some twisted way, it made her heart flutter and gave her butterflies in her gut.

Franco's jaw was nearly on the floor as she hushed her desires right into his ears. They locked eyes, and as his mouth was agape, Lizzy's grin was that of a hungry....wolf. No.

He was the wolf here. Lupara, echoed in Franco's head. He still had Lupara, but he dare not grab for it. He knows how much Lizzy hated when he handled the gun around her.

No not a wolf. A vixen. And right now, Franco was the hare. The foolish hare that laid it's head in the maw of the fox. At any moment she could snap her jaws right on his little neck and do him in.

"I would take a bite outta your heart like a fuckin fruit. Frankie." The woman's lips twitched into a sadistic and hungry little grin and she leaned in close to whisper into Franco's ear. "And I bet you taste sweet. Sugar-sweet. Like milk, and honey."

The sentiment was enough to make Franco's mind go over the edge between fear and arousal. He was speechless, short circuited. Not a clue this side of hell what to say to her.

She sighed a longing sigh, as if she had just been minorly inconvenienced. "A girl can dream..." Lizzy would cut off her thoughts quite abruptly.

Putting Bambino back on the ground, his eyes widened with fear and uncertainty. Was she serious? Franco didn't actually know the answer, but his face was hot and flushed so much so that the sweat dripped from his skin. He took a deep breath and asked.

"Y-you wanna eat me?" He said with little behind the question. His teeth clenched from the anxiety. His mouth hollowed with confusion to Lizzy's true motives.

Their gazes would meet and there was a short pause. Lizzy wiped the corner of her mouth with the tip of her thumb and snickered softly.

"You heard me, Barbi Doll. I just wanna. Eat. You. Up."

She hunched over a bit, lowering herself to his level to place a deepened kiss on his lips. It caused Franco to moan lightly with relief as her touch was a comfort he had been missing for days. His temper was short because he felt ignored. Neglected even. But this was just the pick me up he needed, despite how he came about it.

But, the answer was still unclear. Although it wasn't something Franco saw any worth in dwelling over. Not after the heart skipping moment he just felt with Lizzy. Not right now.

A sickening bond that was ever growing between the two of them.

"One'a these days, Dollie. But not today,alright?" She grabbed his chin again and jerked his face lightly and playfully. His eyelashes fluttered at the motion.

"You gonna walk a little lady to the exit shuttle then?" Lizzy requested.

Franco whom already felt a lingering intimidation radiating from Ms.Lizzy, would hold no argument as he hooked his arm around her waist. He had no qualms with escorting her along with the medicine bottle she acquired.

After all he just wanted to get back to bed. He had thoughts to think over, and desires to dream of before the real trials of the day began.

-End

[hellodragonkit]

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Opinions and Points.

SPOILERS... obviously.

Ok I watched the movie, and ... some things that are my own personal thoughts and possible points I noticed. And some things I have seen others point out to where this is just my over all opinion and its kinda long.

The backstory lets not forget beetle is a unreliable narrator as proven by the first movie as Julliard and Harvard did not exist while he was alive, and unless he was possessing someone when they graduated its unlikely he said the truth. - so I don't think he gave us the full backstory. Maybe yes he did marry her, but given he never dies on screen and previously stated point. I just find it hard to believe that he drank a poison then had enough strength to chop her up as much as she was, if it was actually effecting him. i find it far more possible he had already been poisoned so often he was immune at that point. and was just pissed his new wife tried to do him in. Also in first movie it was suggested with the red mark he hung himself... maybe he tried to take over the death cult and had to do himself in for a quicker death?

the Newspapper. Yes it did say people were falsely accused of offing themselves at death, I think this was to help clear up the plot hole that would have been with Astrid's dad. And maybe be a red haring for Beetle. Next few points are BeetleBabes related so if you don't like the ship, please move on.

He gave her autonomy in his power. During the therapist scene when he "sewn" her mouth shut, it was less truly sewn and more duct taped. She had the ability to remove it, yeah he had it stick long enough for a gag, but not much more. He didn't force her.

The Contract and Nullification of it. Beetle wrote the contract, and he worked as a dead con man for years, he knew the handbook inside and out. He wrote up the contract for Lydia to sign and save her daughter, knowing there was a Massive Loop hole. even blowing a hole in the "back door" of the Neither to insure the loop hole was as big as it could be the second he had her sign, obviously with a bit of theatrics for both signing and explosions. But would we expect anything else from him?

Delia calling him: when Delia died, she called him asking to go to Lyd's wedding. He did so no questions no strings. Any other deal he always asked for something in return but for Lyd's step mom he didn't charge a dime, possibly because he felt Lyds would be upset if she missed it, and didn't get to say good bye.

Rory Beetle obviously didn't like him, could tell he was scamming Lyds, and yeah he probably could have sent him off but instead had to prove to Lydia why that guy was bad, hence why he used truth serum. He need to make sure she wouldn't go back to that guy once he was gone again. It was even hinted he heard her talking in the graveyard rushing to the church that she was not ready to marry.

He planed to go away. His song at the end, was not one of love and togetherness. MacArthur Park is more of loss and remorse. He was saying Goodbye to Lydia! Not permanently anyway

He set up sending away Deloris and helped the contract become Null When Deloris burst in through the door, the wind didn't effect Lydia, or Beetle, or Delia but the book slid to Astrid as easily as it had moved away, He moved it to her, conveniently on the page to summon sand-worms and how to brake the contract.

He stalled for the cops I find it funny how in the first movie he summoned a Man of the cloth and the guests. But this time he had both, and unlike the first time he wasn't rushing... he took his time to sing a whole song and to let the Neither cops show up, possibly also baiting Deloris to take care of her but I'm still not sure on that bit. ether way He had won, he had Lydia, the pastor, and guests. But instead he did a song and dance, a song that I already pointed out was one more of goodbye.

He let Lydia send him away. Beetle loves to make a entrance, he also may love to make a exit. he has also shown he can silence someone for just saying his name once. But instead of silencing her or taking over her voice as he had before. He started a dramatic plea, showing her he was getting sent away, showing her he was going to let her send him off.

The ending given the fact he may have over heard about Rory, And all the other notes, he could probably see Lydia wasn't wanting marriage at that time. But I also feel... he just likes the chase. What fun would it be if the Coyote already caught the road runner? he didn't mind her sending him away, because it means he could keep trying to get her to call him willingly. Over all this is just my ramblings that I don't have any friends irl who may appreciate them or be able to properly counter lol And if you made it this far thank you. And I hope you liked the movie as much as I did.

[pilot-boi]

How does cinder react to the bunny? Does she try and go for murder round 2?

You know how hares stare at people? Like they’re a thousand years old and have watched their brethren decay?

That’s how Jaune stares at Cinder when she steps through the portal

Cinder just blinks at the creature. And then she smiles

Her arm is Grimm. She can feel the creature fighting for control, drawing on her soul. She has made it fear her, cowed it into submission. She is a monster of her own making, fire and hunger pulse through her veins

And here stands a monster of someone else’s making. Horns and ears, scars like claws and too many limbs. A thousand yard stare boring into her from eyes she remembers filling with tears before she snuffed out their light

She never knew the old man had it in him. Salem was right, he isn’t any better

The boy’s partner is spitting venomous words at her, calling her a coward and a traitor. But the boy is silent. Empty. His hands slack at his sides. He looks ready to bolt

Or ready to tear out her throat

He’s not a boy any longer. He’s twitching, his ears are flat against his head. He’s not a person, he’s an animal. Feral and dangerous

Her mistress gave her Grimm to replace her missing arm. The boy was missing so much more, and his patron filled in the blanks the same way. The boy’s partner thinks he’s different than her, but Cinder knows the truth

He’s not a boy. He’s a monster. They both are.

Her smile widens. His pupils contract and he bares his teeth like a beast

“I’m going to enjoy killing you again.”

And he lunges at her

[agentrouka-blog]

Apparently the favourite Rhaegar x Lyanna explanation is now that the whole war is actually Brandon Stark's fault (Rhaegar only kidnapped Lyanna to save her from Aerys' wrath, realised how perfect this arrangement was for the prophecy, he told Rickard about it but didn't have time to tell Brandon and Brandon then ruined everything when he went to King's Landing). Like. Sure, time to blame the guy who lost his sister and was then brutally murdered alongside his father. Also, Rickard definitely would have been fine with his only daughter, whose betrothal was decided by him, becoming the crown prince's second wife (at beast). Anything to absolve Rhaegar of blame

Wow.

Also, can we remember that what started the war was not Brandon riding in to the Red Keep and being a little too confrontational about the fact that his sister was abducted by the crown prince, but the fact that Aerys chose to murder eight people about it? Lords and their sons? Without trial? Lords of the Riverlands, Vale and North? And then went on to demand the murder of two more, Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon, the new Lord Stark and the Lord of Storm's End? Two of the highest Lords in his Realm? On the basis of absolutely nothing?

Even if the hare-brained theory had any merit - that Rickard Stark would have been fine with making a concubine of his only daughter and destroying a betrothal that would have made her the Lady of Storm's End - that still has no bearing on the fact that Aerys decided to be a tyrannical, sadistic murderer instead of following the rule of law and upholding his end of the feudal contract and granting a fair trial.

And given the volatile political position of House Targaryen at the time, given that a block of informal alliances had formed between North, Vale, Stormlands and Riverlands, Rhaegar is STILL INSANELY CULPABLE if he did not realize that kidnapping half of a future marriage within that alliance block would be the domino that would send political stability in the Realm crashing and burning. Even if Aerys had not been a sadistic tyrant. Which, however, he was!

The conduct of House Targaryen is from every angle indefensible and no amount of contrived excuses will change that.

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

Well, consider me a vampire that was invited into the house, I guess.

Hope you are alright with me bringing a small token of appreciation first - small drabble to read!

**********

- Everybody, hold on. - Wise's even voice cut through the chatter of Cunning Hares and Belle. - I have...weird reading.

The group stopped, while Belle instantly asked her brother for specifics. She didn't really like the confusion in her brother's gone when he answered.

-The Ether levels. They behave strangely. First they skyrocket, then instantly drop to near nonexistent levels. And it happens with odd..rhythm. And trajectory. Almost as if-

-Everybody, hide! - Belle commanded, even before Wise finished his speech. Her bangboo rushed to cover first, with Cunning Hares following their proxy's footsteps.

Not a second later than the group hid behind some rubble, the farthest wall exploded and a large Ethereal sailed through it, colliding with the wall near them. It started to fall apart almost instantly. The cold, metallic voice resonated through the area.

- [Not this one either then. Dullahan is still roaming free.] - The figure rushed through the opening in the wall, stopping near the Ethereal and grasping it with their hand. - [Your existence shall serve me some more, husk.]

Belle had to bite down her gasp when she saw the Ethereal slowly being absorbed into the person(?) hand. Billy did gasp though, nearly giving away their hiding place. The odd figure instantly turned towards the sound, giving Belle a chance to see a blank metal mask on their face.

Suddenly, the figure blurred in her vision - rushing away at inhuman speed.

-They are headed towards the next high Ether level zone. - Wise supplied quickly. - Just where we were headed before now.

Belle sighed. Could this contract be normal at least once? First their account was nuked, then they willingly decided to confront high level Ethereal - and now THIS.

She really wanted to sleep.

First of all Anxious, you should really try your hand at writing.

Second of all, I am a big fan of this so I hope you don’t mind that I made my own little addition to it.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Wise drummed his fingers against the table as he scoured the Inter-Knot with Fairy.

The target of their search?

That Hollow Raider Belle and the others ran into.

The only thing they were able to turn up?

A single word.

“Kresnik”

A myth in the deep darkness of the Inter Knot.

A bedtime story used to scare young blood.

A creature in a metal mask that ate ethereals.

It’s said that it could rip any Ethereal apart with its bare hands.

It’s said that it could lift an entire train car and throw it with one hand.

It’s said that it could punch straight through a Gear Gate and rip it off its hinges.

And… it's said it didn’t care who or what was in its way, only that if it is it won’t be for long.

Or that’s what the stories said.

Wise didn’t know if he should believe them or not.

If he didn’t, that meant there was a strange being that could devour Ethereals.

If he did, that meant there was a strange creature that could devour Ethereals and tear through anything like it was paper.

Neither options were ones he liked.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Context: Kresnik's or Krsnik's are a form of Vampire Hunting Shaman's with some vampiric powers of their own from Slavic Cultures. Its name roughly translates to "Resurrector".