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dragongirlpoet · 1 month ago

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Dark Signs 4

Summary: Alucard races against time to get to Castlevania before Simon does. But the Belmont isn’t the enemy, or is he? Dark forces and shocking truths haunt the vampire prince as he searches for you. Will you and your beloved ever meet again? (Dual POV, Alucard + you, both happen simultaneously, off-canon)

Themes: Dark fantasy, gothic horror, MDNI I 11.5k words

Warnings: Death, blood, gore, violence, biblical references, mentions of suicide, self harm, anxiety, depression, SMUT

@s-i-l-v-e @kawaiiskeletoneggsnerd @celly-fahrenheit @skychaser777 @sylum @cumsluut @cottoncandyclouds-stuff (tagging the usual, lemme know if I missed any, or if you wanna be tagged/removed)

Pt I I Pt II I Pt III

Alucard

The moon appeared wan.

It was a blanched yellow — sickly, like the face of a discarded corpse on the brink of necrose.

It would take more than a keen eye, a vampire perhaps, to discern my amongst the sleet of heavy snow. Though the brutal blizzard had slowed to an ebb, the punishing cold meant that only a creature such as I could prowl the forest — unarmed, unfeeling, unhuman.

My estoc tailed me as I stalked, silent as the air in a grave. No living soul made so bold as to appear even in slightest privy to The White Wolf. I could sense everything there was in the playground of my castle — nightshades straining to burgeon in the undergrowth, the miasmic decay of a fox carcass some 20 feet from where I was, and an arctic owl roosting in a cavity of a frozen willow.

That willow…I remember it. I knew it well.

Wallachia had been fast approaching its summer solstice. Daffodils, in full bloom, were lush at the pinnacle of their flourish. Their native toxins, otherwise grievous to mere mortals, stood all but benign to my love — “I alone am immune to these so called poisons. It’s a shame people see peril in place of beauty. I like them, they so very much remind me of your eyes.”

Her words to me were breathtaking, always. A placid warmth, quite like the clandestine ray of sun through a break in nature’s foliage. It falls on you, hushed and unassuming, irrevocably lovely.

“I can build you a fortress, by the ocean, away from the stir of Wallachia.” I said to her as we plodded through the woods, our muscles stiff from hunting elk all dawn.

I shadowed her footsteps, trailing the other half of my question after her. “Somewhere only we know. Where daffodils bloom evermore. Would you like that?”

“Hmm, let’s see. Far away from the towns…how then would I get to the markets? Church? The dress merchant?” she replied in mock distress, right hand twirling her steel dagger. The face of a wolf lay emblazoned on the cross-guard, mane extending to its hilt. It bore my likeness — I had it forged to resemble my shield.

“We are to tarry at the villages every Moon’s day. The folk anticipate it, you know that. Who else will bring them medicines and teach the children how to read?” She put me wise to our promise.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure the children quite miss their favourite magician.”

“I prefer alchemist, thank you very much.”

“Magician sounds much less frightening.” I smirked.

“Oh? And a pale, unearthly, hovering mortal with fangs is more hospitable?”

“I imagine my charm…elevates when I float.”

I’d always known I was funny.

Throwing her head back, she let out a deep chuckle, the veins on her neck made all the more palpable. Every throb of it seemed to cause my own to thrash against my ribs. I forced myself instead, to regard the satin flush on her cheeks as she laughed.

We were matched in wit and knowledge — a most gratifying repose — after having spent years engaged in senseless parley with a dimwit like Belmont. Sypha definitely has her work cut out for her.

Attempting to seek cover from the relentless sun, my beloved alas settled under a goat willow, its branches vast and leaves a sprawling golden green. I fixed my gaze on her in earnest, eager for a response to my yet unanswered question. Was she evading it?

Panic rising in my chest, I again pressed, “Anywhere you like, I’ll take you as I always do. What do you think?”

Avoiding my scrutiny, she sulked, “Who will I haggle my wares to?”

Thump, thump.

“Where did you…have you been pillaging the attic for dust-ridden jewels? Enlighten me, darling, the need for these..trifling travails, when you live in a castle?”

A jest, to mask my unease.

“It’s passes the time. It’s thrilling. I quite enjoy it.”

“Then I’ll take you.”

“But you know I can care for myself, Adrian.”

“But it’s not safe.”

“But I am skilled in combat. You taught m….”

“But it’s not enough.”

My discountenace came too swift, too reckless.

“I have a great many foes. Foes that span dimensions, foes that want you dead. I cannot allow it.”

The forest expanse plunged into an uncomfortable silence. Lakes seemed to still, leaves collapsed to a wither and blackbirds stifled their serenade. Her eyes were on me — forlorn, defeated — but it was my turn to refuse hers. I pondered, at that moment, if she could descry the truth behind my adamance, that my fear far extended beyond angels and demons.

I was eternal, yet I dreaded as any mortal man might — would she fall in love with another? A comely knight perhaps? She would have a life of her dreams, away from monsters, void of sin.

And I’d be forgotten, forsaken, a wandering ghost in search of redemption.

Shove.

It came out of nowhere. I was forcefully pinned against the coarse willow bark. I struggled to withdraw from my grim phantasy, focus alas narrowing to my bride, her face inches from mine.

She had a blade to my throat.

Disoriented and amused, a small laugh escaped before I managed, “What are you doing, darling?”

“Is this skilled enough for you, my Prince?”

“What…”

“You dropped your guard. A costly mistake. Now you’re at my mercy. Beg me to let you go, Alucard.”

“What did you call me?”

“That’s your name, is it not?”

The mischief in her glare was telling, a kind of insolence dared not a soul to wield — save for her. It was maddening.

“Alright. I’ll indulge your little…impudence. Please, don’t let me go.”

She stared, dark eyes gone soft, searching…as if she too, was sentient to my pain, my fears…as if she too, had broken into pieces. I watched as tears glazed her vision, and when the first drop of crystalline cascaded down her cheek, she held my face, velveteen fingers etching sacred salvation.

I was no son of God, but her touch was the safety of an answered prayer.

“My heart is yours, Adrian. I will go where you are. To the heavens and the depths of the oceans. I will go with you. If hell is where you’ll descend, my soul will find yours.”

Poetry, as always.

I eased into her love, kissing her, yearning her. It was a kismet tale of how the Sun surrendered his golden orbit for the Night. Only, she had heartened him to glow fearlessly — iridescent… free — so her stars could ascend in his divine light. Under the willow, the shadow dared dance with the sun, embracing like lovers do.

Under the willow, the Sun bowed down to the majesty of Night’s nocturne.

She pulled back by a fraction, wanting to break our kiss, but I’d leaned in, going where she took me, closing the space between.

“Adr…” she muffled, struggling to escape my insistent grasp. “Adrian. My love, I…” Kiss. “Can’t…” Kiss. “Breathe.”

Fine, I’ll let go.

Forehead to hers, I grinned like a lovesick fool.

“Does this now tame your tempestuous heart?” Her voice was all breathy.

“Not quite enough.”

In the distance, a euphony of sounds rang through the woods — a blackbird’s ballad — they had once again begun to sing. An aria so hauntingly beautiful it seemed all the forests’ carnate creatures ceased their fluster, stilled their very being, all but to exist in its orchestral grace.

I pulled my sweetheart in closer, guiding her hips to sway, reminiscent of nights where we would slow-dance in my Great Hall to a minstrel’s sonata.

Ever defiant, withal, my beloved had a penchant for testing me. Cool metal began skirting the base of my throat, this time falling past the scar on my chest, circling alas, above my heart.

She was tracing the wicked blade around my nipple.

Smirking in disbelief, I shook my head.

“What are you doing now? I was being romantic.”

“Playing with my food, since you begged to be prisoner.” She replied, words all coy.

The lilt of the blackbirds unfurled into a siren song.

“Did I?”

I let my voice drop to a dangerous rasp, black cape hovering over her. “What if you’re the captive, and I’m the one pulling your chains?”

Nothing good ever comes with taunting a vampire.

Mouth grazing her ear, I whispered, “Show me just how subservient you can be.”

She sucked in a breath before falling to her knees, those eyes like saintly sin peering into mine, gaze dripping with desire.

Cherry lips roaming my inner thighs, her hands worked effortlessly to unfasten the girdle holding my cape together — an extremely ill-suited attire for hunting, but she had implored me to don it, contending that it pleased her greatly. I had already begun to tense in my trousers, but she appeared to delight in tormenting me. Her fingers were strung through my waistband, caressing my abdomen, dallying…Did she want me to beg?

Prolonging my agony, she stuck her tongue out to trace the very prominent outline of my erection, making certain to soak every single spot of fabric with her saliva. Dhampirs could go for long periods without breathing, but in that moment, my chest rose and fell like tumultuous tides in a seething sea.

“Darling, darling, please…take me…” I pleaded, reaching down to pull out my length, catching her by surprise. I levelled it at the opening of her lips, too eager, too hungry, for her warmth. She pouted her dollface, dismayed I’d taken matters into my own hands. That only served to further rile me. Left with little choice, I tugged her bottom lip apart, urging her open, and as she did so, as she encased her mouth around me, I came apart, bright and free like the first light of daybreak.

Her own sounds of pleasure were blatantly suppressed. Her licks started tame, delicate, grazing my most sensitive spot. My most sensitive spot…fuck…she continued lapping at my pre-load, rubbing her thumbs at the base of my cock, yanking, slackening…repeating the motion…fuck…

My hair was tied up, loose curls draping my face — she’d harangued me for wearing it the same way always, so I’d let her experiment. Now, running my hands up the base of her hair, curling them into my fist…I was merely returning the favour. Tugging… pushing… trying… to be as gentle as I could. But my lust was brutal, and my hips jerked forward at an inhuman pace. “Harder darling, ahh…good girl…” How much could she take? It was my turn to experiment.

“Mmphf…” She shifted.

I halted at once. Was she hurt?

“Darling…did I…”

She glanced up at me, eyelashes black as a winter solstice’s night, shaking her head.

Wanting to prove once more she was undaunted by all the cares in the world, she pushed further in, swallowing more than half of me.

Immediately she choked, tears rimming her eyes.

‘My love, please…stop…ahhh…”

I can handle myself, her measured stare let me know she wanted to keep going.

I was utterly lost in the vespers of panic and arousal. Over and over again she engulfed my sex, head rising and dipping, astutely apprised of all the right ways to devastate me. I was so close, too close, to my approaching release, when…what??

She had pulled away, but her manner remained wanton. It would seem the forcible dhampir had once more fallen quarry to his damsel.

“My Prince, I beg. May I?”

Another moment, another blade with which to wager my life.

Still reeling from near orgasm, I stared at her in confusion, at the honed weapon bearing into my thigh — wherefore her fascination with sharp objects?

She stayed kneeling, waiting, as though for permission.

Permission…

Ah yes…

Consent…for a deed so dark, so depraved, surely the church she’d grown up in would burn her if they knew. Reason whispered caution, yet this was hardly the first time I’d allowed it.

“Just a little.”

I was the devil incarnate, afterall.

Thereupon, she slit my skin open. Blood river spilled out like the Holy Grail, overfilled and awaiting reverence. It trickled past my knees, and the mere sensation of it exalted me. My pants were pulled down to my ankles — I stood naked and vulnerable, cut wide, hers for the taking.

She could dig graves in my heart, pummell me with poison arrows, and I’d yield completely to her. Despite it all, she was the one devouring my lifesource in supplication. That tongue of hers…it did unholy work. Up and up the crimson trail she went, bestowing my skin with vulgar licks, snaking towards its provenance like a hunter claiming a well-earned reward.

I began trembling. My breath became one with the impregnable sea — climbing and crashing with every violent intake. I watched in intoxicated lust as she finally, finally latched her lips onto the place she’d cut me open, drinking my blood as if I were her God.

I spared little effort to hinder my moans, whimpering so deplorably one would have thought me smothered to death. The trills of the forest went quiescent once more, as if afeared to intrude on a vampire’s sacrilege.

All that was present was the raging throb of entwined hearts and tangled desire — though hers was more rapid, my own roared like the fury of a turbulent thunderstorm. They melded together like the perfect harmony of sky and ocean, boundless and omnipotent.

My beloved taking my blood was pure rapture. The gush of my essence weaved itself into every passage of her body, laying immortal claim to her being.

“...feels so good darling…” each gasp more strangulated than the former, “...don’t stop…please, please…uhghhh…”

Acknowledging my plea, she sucked harder on my blood, head positioned so decadently within my thighs. I hadn’t realised how much I’d been grinding my cock into her hands, and when she lay blood-stained nibbles all over my hard sex, I was wholly ruined. Sweat beaded through my pores as it did hers, amid my being vehemently aware of another wetness between her legs. Though not visible past clothing, I could feel her pleasure drenching her undergarment, arousal dripping so fervently I could well taste it on my tongue. I locked my fingers through her hair, the softness of it dissipating in my unbridled grip. I was so overcome by desire.

More and more she took from me, feasting as if she were made of the night, until I knew where I was no longer. The blood drinking…I felt my human slipping away, descending with it a darkness that threatened to alter my consciousness…

Thump, thump.

The sensation swelled to an uncontrollable need, awakening something in me, something unearthly, something malevolently monstrous.

“That’s enough.”

I said it before I couldn’t.

“But I want more,” she beseeched, pristine blood spilling from her lips as she spoke. They streamed down her chin, desiccating like wilted rose petals on her neck.

I watched her through half human eyes, begging for the aversion mortals so avoided like the plague.

“No.”

You should stay away from me. Stay away, before it’s too late.

“Then bite me, Adrian. Please. Let my blood be forever in your servitude. You never have to hide who you are with me.”

She had spoken true my heart’s darkest desire.

Shadows creeped into every muscle, every bone, every crevice of my soul. I remained unmoving, as if being still would somehow vanquish the vampire out of me.

Stay away.

An uncanny shift in my mouth started to take root. Freed alas from the cages of inhibition, my fangs began to distend — longer, sharper, deadlier. This was what she wanted, right?

My fingers, woven so intricately in her hair, started to descend heedlessly down her neck. I traced them about her veins, violet and turquoise like sublime shades of the ocean. She shuddered at my touch, tilting her head to offer more of her supple flesh. Blood hammered at her vessels, throbbing so intensely as though seeking to claw out of her skin.

I was the potence of a blood moon, the hunger of a starved wolf. So spellbound in her longing, I gripped the blades of her shoulders, mouth poised a breath beneath her neck. Against my lips her honeyed blood burned, sweet bride…my fangs ache for you…

I leaned in, nearer, closer, warmer, so warm…

Just a bite, mine forever…

Stop this now, Alucard.

“Mmphh…”

“Forgive me my love, but I cannot.”

The wound on my thigh was no more.

Face buried in her neck, I grappled for air, body convulsing wildly from trying to banish my bloodlust to hell. I was riddled with shame at how easily I’d succumbed to my immortal thirst. She could only hold me tighter, cradling me as if I were a child;

quell, quell,

the tempest,

that befell.

The both of us knelt in quiet embrace, unravelling in the graveness of what we’d done.

“I’m sorry, my love. I was too careless. I never should have asked. Adrian I…what’s wrong?”

A contusion the size of my palm, battered a punishing purple, marred the hollow of her neck. It ran all the way across her shoulder blade, pervading past her arm. Suppressing my appetite had cost me, cost her, — I had almost crushed her bones from the unhuman force of my grip.

I could see my own horror reflected in the blacks of her pupils. I had no memory of the deed — the idea that I’d been blind to my grotesque impulses rendered me numb. My angel did little to acknowledge her injury — was she as far gone as I was?

“My darling, I…I…”, voice cracking as I spoke. “I hurt you. I would never hurt you.” My eyes skimmed over her sickening bruise, her body, desperate to make certain I didn’t kill her. “I’m so sorry my love, I’m so sorry…forgive me…”.

She took my face in her hands, kissing my brows with a softness only she could provide. “You’re not to blame, my Adrian. I’m perfectly well, I do not feel a thing,” she reassured by prodding her livid skin.

At once she winced, albeit fleeting. “See? I’m not bluffing.”

She was bluffing.

I could feel the pain radiating off her body. It seared onto my own like scorching steel, spreading onto every nerve.

“My love, I implore you, do not coax me. Let’s return to the castle. There are salves and herbs and…”

“Adrian.” She steadied me. “I’ve had far worse. Lost a fight to the village children, if I’ll have you believe. Perhaps I should have given them more gruel and less stew.”

I managed an uneasy smile.

Our foreheads together once more, I cupped her angel face, savouring a love I was never granted.

“You have all consumed me, my love. You have made me…tender, whole, the most radiant kind of human. I adore you, wholly.”

Love letters to her, and I’ll write an eternity more.

“Promise you’ll never leave me.”

“I promise.”

The willow now resembled a sepulchre of forsaken souls. Their long-perished physical bodies coiled and dangling as if begging to be remembered, begging to be looked at one last time, begging to be more than ash and bone and clay.

A sudden gust of winter’s spell swept around me, throwing into the air ice particles…and her scent.

I whipped around, heart racing in my wolf body. I searched for it again, utterly frantic, but the draught came and went like evanescent embers. An inexplicable, chimeric vestige clung to her perfume. My breathing became labourious as I scrambled towards the castle, only to…only to…

The spell. It had shattered.

The acrid stench of rotting carcasses remained, as it had a near century ago, as if the curse of Castlevania had allowed decay to cling onto its foundations and drag any semblance of life into purgatory.

I wanted to drown in my own blood. The doors were flung open — did she wake? Was she taken? Why wasn’t I there to protect her?

As I stepped into our once home, I felt my lungs begin to crush in.

Lightless, funereal, shrouded with the sombre gloom of the blood moon…they threatened to pry my insides open. Everywhere I looked, they were all fragments of the same morose portrait — a former fortress reeking of blood, sin and death.

Darling…

I called out her name once, twice…countless times over. All that greeted me was the haunting affliction of my own voice. There was never a day I would not think of her. Ever and again, I would reach out for her hands, turn over in my bed, pour an extra glass of wine…I suppose I got too old for play pretend. She never came back.

My dhampir footsteps became sluggish. It became increasingly torturous to move past my old chambers — the room where I’d killed her loomed in the distance.

A loud ringing erupted in my ears, causing me to lose balance. I held onto the stone for support, breath coming up shorter each time. In the darkness, a pipe organ began to play. Who dared trespass into my home? The chapel she used to devote herself to the almighty, I went there one night after she died. That was the last time I ever heard one.

Malady of the mind, it seemed the being who composed the chorus did possess. Though not particularly gifted in the modus of musics, I was wholly aware of the clashing chords — its erratic rhythm struck another like songbirds thrown into disarray. It echoed through the castle, blanketing the manor in deranged melancholy.

Hark hear,

Ye whistle

Of a raven black.

Strange tales,

Stow in missal

Sion triumph wreck.

Might of olde,

Ye bairn behold!

Fields of gold,

Born of cold.

Of a raven black,

Ye whistle

Hark hear, hark hear.

Part of me was not of this world; I was made of flesh far more grim than ghosts and revenants. Yet the monstrous melody deeply unsettled me.

My vampiric senses could grasp the presence of naught, still the music ascended, rising into a rousing crescendo, louder, louder, louder.

“Who’s there?!” I bellowed, my sword drawn full.

The symphony stopped.

All that could be heard was the hysteric gasps of air I so struggled to take.

“Adrian…”

I went rigid.

“Mother…” I choked, tears running down my cheeks.

She was as real as the day I lost her — ethereal in ivory robes, beautiful, carved of silk. In her I saw myself, what it was to love, to protect, to be human.

With her arms outstretched, she beckoned for our embrace. I crumbled into her maternal love, feeling so terribly small, like a child again.

“Mother…I missed you, so very much…”

“I know my sweet boy, I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to watch over you,” she cooed, hand brushing my hair.

Home. She felt like home.

“Am I beyond salvation? I’ve…murdered…humans…I killed her…I know not what I do no longer…”

Centuries ago, I had deliberately flashed my fangs at one of my mother’s patients, scaring them. She did not chide me. In its absence she would often plant a kiss on my cheek and utter words of consolation, of warmth, as she did now.

“My Adrian…it is no easy feat, navigating life as a dhampir. You are your father’s son as much as you are mine. In you there is a light that burns like no other. It is there. I know it.”

My tears would not cease.

“I love you, Mother. I could not save you, forgive me…”

Gone with the wind, she faded into dust. The words I so wished to hear did not come.

“Son.”

Weeping and wide-eyed with horror, I froze once more.

No…no..this cannot be…

Hands, their claws sharp and blackened, braced my shoulders from behind.

“My boy…after all this time, are you still ashamed of me?”

I could not face him.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

I watched as Dracula’s hands coiled tighter around my chest. If it was affection, I could not tell.

“My son. Fear not of what you truly are. We are forged of dark gods…my power, it flows through you…a gift. Wield it how you wish, drink from who you wish, kill…”

“Stop.”

I was unable to hide the quiver in my voice.

Even in the endless dusk, I could make out my father’s shadow towering over me. If only I would move closer to his eminent presence, our shadows would fuse, I would be Dracula.

“Why won’t you look at me, son?

Look at me!”

Crimson crypts in place of eyes shot in front of me, forcing me to stumble backwards onto the oak wood floor. Dracula appeared how I had left him — tortured, grieving, staked through his heart.

I clambered backwards on all fours, feeling a fear as I’ve never felt before. Each step he took towards me seemed to drive the stake deeper, provoking the wound, splaying more and more blood onto his tunic, onto my face…

“Father…forgive me…”

The clamouring of voices began again, threatening to rip me apart. My father continued to reach for me.

Too much…too much.

“Ughh…”

A piercing silence followed at once.

Bent over, I stared at my own blood spilt on the oak.

My estoc was thrust into my chest. All I had to do was push the blade a little lower, just a little…and my heart, already broken, would shatter from the ashes once again.

I allowed myself to wallow in the pain, in the excruciating sting of metal through muscle, steel through bone. Just a little lower…

The scurrying of cells, so desperate to stitch me back together, they could not understand why I refused the lifeline.

And so I bled. I bled until I started to choke and wheeze and tremor. But I would not die.

Would I?

Slowly, powerlessly, I crawled with the strength of an emanciated human towards our bed chamber, leaving a trail of blood in my wake. The spot where I drank from her… I know not how I’d summoned the magic, I could not recall it, but I awoke to the vault where I’d buried her.

Cherry wine doused in sacred blood — her scent indulged all my senses at once. The ground…stained with her lifesource. Or mine? The threshold…her blood smeared. The coffin…open. It was open.

I staggered forward. Daffodil petals lay wilted in the empty divan, gathering in a compressed middle where her body used to lie. My heart went fatally taut.

For the first time in my unfathomable darkness, I could breathe easy, if only for a moment. There was that surreptitious ray of sun again…hushed and unassuming…

That scent again…what was it?

Alas my wounded mind wouldn’t leave me be — it clawed at every trench and trough, exhuming all that was sinister. You let her die again.

“Where are you? Where are you darling?” Tears rained from my eyes as I struggled to survey the vault. I could make no head or tail about its anomaly. How did she leave? Simon…

The spell had been infallible, foolproof even, when I’d cast it — all that was within Castlevania would be ensconced in a Veil of Oblivion. No thing, sire nor soul could enter nor leave, save for I, Alucard, blood-spawn of Dracula. The plan was simple. She would wake from her slumber, I would be her knight on a white horse, and we would live happily ever after.

I knelt over her lingering presence, mind imprisoned in a pit of trepidation. “I cannot lose you again…come back to me…you promised…you promised…”

A numbing ache shot up my arm. My sword, it had maimed me more than I’d liked. In one swift, reckless motion, I yanked it from my flesh, demon blood splattering on her casket. I clutched at the gaping wound, so morbidly aware of the pain, of her absence…of what I needed to do.

—

Ballad. My good horse, black as sorrow and gallant as sin, together we rode through the bleak winter solstice. Castlevania seemed a distant memory, yet it had been barely a day since I’d escaped that wretched grave. The sun didn’t rise. Trees lay barren and arched, their deformed silhouettes like pagans seeking deliverance from the blood moon. Ballad’s gait was slower than usual — I made no motion to rush her, she was, after all, no creature of the night, and her senses were stifled by the frigid fog.

Darkest night of the year, yet there were no stars in heaven’s oscillation. All that was within our parameters was the cardinal mist that hung like death. Nothing felt as it was supposed to — the air hovered curious, bitter, and we passed no living, faced no dead. Fitting, perhaps, for the resolve I was soon to execute.

Would I tell her? Would I tell her what I’d wagered to keep her safe?

The Veil of Oblivion, it was magic that drew from the damned. One so perilous, one so dark, one that only an execrated witch like Salome could manifest. She had pledged herself ardently to Dracula’s cause, everything that I’d been fighting against, but when risked losing the one you love, you’d turn despicable too, no?

“I’ve been expecting you, Alucard. What you ask…I could give you that and more…so much more. Oh, but what in return, dhampir?” She had reeked of suffering and plague.

“Take my blood. Use it for your spells, trinkets, whatever sorcery you deem fit. You could not have Dracula’s, but I am giving it freely. Its power is unmarked.”

“Tempting…but you take me for a fool, dhampir. I am Salome, most revered enchantress in all of the lands…” her cackle sounded like a cat being boiled alive, “…do better.”

“Name your price.”

The witch leaned in, her grey-translucent eyes glistening like a reptile who’d just ensnared prey.

“You feel too much, son of Dracula. Emotion, that which drives mortals to misery. But you cling on to it as though you’re not of Hell. Give it to me — your humanity.”

“Souls of a thousand damned. That I’d avow.”

“Your humanity, vampire.”

My stare remained unwavering.

“Know the weight of what you’re asking, witch. A fragment, nothing more.”

I could still recall the pain as she, in all her sinister glory, extracted that fragment. Years of joy and love and laughter, ripped untimely from my soul. I’d been a broken man after it; a messenger of Hell, a vessel of darkness, an overture of death.

And I was about to do it all over again. My sweet angel, I needed to know where she was. If it meant to lose everything, I’d do it. I’d do it all for her. I’d do it all for love.

“Halt!”

Ballad reared as I reeled her reigns in. She was none too pleased at the sudden command. Pleas for aid, for God, rang in my ears before I could catch sight of the chaos. But it was no ordinary bedlam. Up ahead lay Targoviste — where my mother was burned at the stake.

Fury and heartache settled heavy in my chest. A hundred years, I’d not seen the square. It only served to remind me of all the people I had loved and lost. I could turn away, set the course for my own path…what good was mercy if I were no longer human?

The only thing necessary for evil to triumph…

“...is for good men to do nothing.” Incandescent in gold, like the loveliest bride, my beloved spoke to me as if I were wreathed in a euphoric dream.

I nudged Ballad ready. “Steady now, girl, we’re riding into the fire.”

As the ravaged town came into view, the pungent fumes of flames, flesh and the unmistakable malodour of night creatures assaulted my nostrils. My dear horse took a sharp turn, gruffing, stomping her hooves as if to warn me. She was aware, just as I was, of the eldritch presence that dwelled beneath the earth — lurking, waiting, biding its time.

I hurled my sword through the cursed night, and, like a soldier of valour, it pummelled into the eyes and throats of the undead, tunneling its way into their foul bodies until they dropped dead like vermin on the ground.

Ballad continued charging forward with me on the reigns, trampling over debris, fallen martyrs and charred bodies. Hellish snarls and human squalls clashed like fire and water in a ceaseless night, dragging the entirety of Targoviste into a nether-bound inferno.

People were fighting tooth and nail with anything they could scavenge — rocks and spears, crosses and bibles — mothers hid their children while fathers sparred like heroes. Few were truimphant. In the midst of my rescue, I witnessed the fragility of mortals. But most of all, I remarked that, even when hope seemed to teeter on a string, those…humans…fought with all but clothes on their backs and faith in their hearts.

I grappled to hold on to that shred of ruth, willing it to stay. Do I remember? Compassion, joy, laughter…the emotion dwindled on and off, like a candle reaching the end of its kindle, gone…but not quite.

“Have you come to save us?”

In between blood and sweat, I glanced down at the child, a girl, obscured behind a crumbling well. She had tears in her eyes and gashes on her skin. I ripped my shield off a monster I’d killed, partially shaken by the sight of a helpless daughter of none.

“Where are your parents?” I didn’t want to know.

“A monster…a…ate… them…I’m scared.”

I lifted her into my arms. She wrapped her tiny hands around my shoulders, sobbing into them. Something welled in my chest — it was neither panic nor despair.

“Shh, it’s okay, you see my little horsie here? She’ll take you, and whoever we can find, to the… church, over there. Stay inside. I will keep you safe, I promise.”

—

In the rampage of ruins, the empty church was the only safehold. It had remained unscathed in the height of horror. Consecrated, then, enough to serve as temporary refuge. I turned back to glimpse at the shivering survivors within its walls, at the little girl, now huddled up to a stranger. She peered at me with bright eyes, as if to inspirit me. I threw her one last glance, and sped away on Ballad.

The battle seemed to stretch on for miles, with wails of terror being heard from beyond the square. The creatures — vile and uncontained, they came from every corner, every dark recess…I had not encountered an army such as this. There seemed little motivation for their attacks, unless…this was merely a distraction, a harbinger for the apocalypse that was to follow.

More charged at me. I rose on my horse, daring the beasts to come closer. “Ballad, now!” Well acquainted with my habits, she at once veered off course as I scattered into a cauldron of bats, revealing sharpened wooden stakes mounted onto stone walls behind me. Ambushed, the fiends that had been assailing us crashed into them, their bodies peforated with bleeding caverns.

“Into the church! Go! Hurry!” I yelled over the roaring flames. Most complied, others remained to fend off the monsters with me. The light in my heart continued to flicker.

Could I save them all?

A swarm of colossal hounds aimed for the people, and, with one hand brandishing my sword, I intercepted the attack, holding them off. With all my might, I propelled into the snarling beasts, cracks shooting up their limbs, before I vanished and re-emerged above them, slicing through their heads.

It would seem my efforts did little to thwart the heinous war. There were just too many.

“Help!”

I scanned frantically around for the source of the plea, and…crash!

I was sent flying into stone and debris, the sudden blow paralysing me. The winter stood unrelenting, but I had only felt the immense heat from a conflagration beside me, and a scythe wedged in my stomach. As I struggled to regain my vision, I could make out a mass of black running towards me…Ballad…

It happened too fast.

A wretched beast swooped in from behind, impaling my dear horse in her barrel. She continued riding. I ripped the sickle off me, dashing for her, when she whipped around and charged into the creature with all that she had. Rising behind my mare, I drove my sword into the monster, making sure to cleave out all its insides.

As if rest assured I was safe, Ballad collapsed onto the ground before me, grunting as blood gashed out of her body. “No…Ballad…stay with me girl, please…I need you…” tears streamed from my eyes as I watched her chest rise and fall, slowing each time, finally taking her last breath.

I knelt on the ground in anguish and defeat.

Around me the bloodshed continued, the shrieks of monsters and man booming into the infernal night like a death toll. It was as if I were trapped in a bad dream once again, enslaved by a pestilence from which I could not escape. I could only watch, powerless, as everyone around me perished to ashes.

Rage inciting my bloodlust, I tore into the creatures, draining their blood in all my immortal grandeur. “Show yourself you fucking coward!” I bellowed into the void, willing for the malevolent mastermind to dare manifest. “You send your worthless beasts, yet you cower in the shadows like a festering corpse…” I let out a long, unbridled laugh, mouth smeared with bloody fluids of night creatures.

My act of messiah had run its course. Every second that trickled by was time lost to find my angel. To hell with playing hero — the world can burn; amidst the fanning flames of doom and despair, I alone walk the charred earth with my betrothed.

I quickened my pace, half terrified of that resolve. Without her, without Sypha, without Trevor, becoming Dracula seemed near inevitable. If only Belmont were here…if only…

A rumble, a shockwave, then a crash.

“Ugh…”

A battered man lay on the ground a distance away, clutching at his ribs.

He seemed to have fallen from the sky.

Incensed I had yet to stage another rescue, I compelled myself to keep my course, but something shimmering in the corner of my eye stopped me in my tracks. I treaded to where the mysterious man tumbled, and as I got closer, the glint of metal, the heat of overt masculinity, and the blatant reek of a third class ingrate…

“What the fuck.”

Grabbing a fistful of his hair, I slammed Simon Belmont into the pavement. The corner of his temple split into a stream of blood.

“Where is she? Where did you take her?!” I spat into his scarred face.

He seemed delirious, taking unusually long for someone of his caliber to register who I was. Utterly useless…wholly unworthy of the Belmont crest…

“Th…the…” A pathetic blabber was all he managed.

I gripped his throat and crushed harder on his windpipe.

“Speak you lunatic, or I’ll fucking murder you.”

Between our violent tussling, the air around us went eerily still. All that could be heard were the rabid breaths of old foes.

A sudden prickle shot up the nape of my neck, as though a vengeful spirit had hissed its hateful exhale. My blood ran cold. That presence…

The ground beneath us began to tremor. Buildings fell apart, trees were yanked from their roots and people perished into crevices. It quaked so forcefully the earth started to split open.

Somewhere in the abyssal cavern, from within the depths of hell, rose a towering creature not born of light.

“Son of Dracula…we meet again.”

I felt a rip in my conviction.

Behind me, Simon had launched into battle with night creatures, his metallic whip flailing around the horde, playing executioner of the damned. He had been yelling at me, but I couldn’t make out the words above the babel. He can die, that bastard.

“Heavy is thy heart, dhampir. Another favour you seek, I hear. Come, do tell your dear old friend what it is you so desire.”

“It was you. You did all of this.”

“I did. But I am no saviour. Sit on the fences of darkness and light, I do not.”

“Where is she!!”

“What would you wager this time?”

“You dare ask for a boon? We made an oath!!”

The fury in my voice turned frost into fire.

I hadn’t known it, but I later became aware I had been shaking, sharpened nails digging into my palms as blood fell like crimson tears onto white ice.

The witch cackled, the dark, weeping flesh that hung about her writhing as she did.

“You mar my name, vampire. My word is sacred, as the church is to deceivable humans, but you, Alucard, are callous… arrogant. You remain blind to truths that lay before you.”

I appeared behind the demon in a second, spearing my sword into her formless body before she could finish. She all but laughed louder, a hollow, rotting chasm materialising at the spot where I’d impaled her. The steel began to quaver and rattle, and no sooner expelled such a malevolent force I thought I’d felt my bones shatter and my blood roil. Into the hard earth I plummetted, close to losing consciousness.

Wails, bloodshed, fire…they encircled me like vicious vultures at a distance, sights and sounds drowned out as though I was thrown into a vacuous orbit.

Breathe, Adrian…

Pallid silhouettes dangled before my pained vision. It had started to snow once more. Amidst the baleful umbra, a sliver of light lay lambent in the sky. Beneath the gentle fall of snow, fates soul-bound like stars aglow…

Everything slowed. The light remained my sole existence. Brighter and brighter it shone, blinding, beckoning…

“Is this, what you’re searching for?”

High up in the clouds, in the clutches of the demon, hung the star.

My star. I saw her.

I saw only her.

—

You

More…I want more…

And so I drank.

My first human, a lowlife swine I had chanced upon maltreating children, and the gall he had to do it in front of the church. Foundlings, they must have been, for the little boys and girls seemed dressed in nothing but rags, pleading for their beating to stop. A boy, oldest I reckon, with the courage of a steed, stepped out and shoved the man. He received twenty lashings as punishment. I had been watching in the shadows, and I could scarce bear it no longer.

I had been the victim of violence at the hands of my father. My mother had passed, and I had not known comfort and joy till the church took me in. In the midst of burnt leather against skin and cries against taunts, I emerged, sudden as a wild tempest. With all the immortal might and hunger Adrian had bestowed upon me, I dragged the vermin scum to the banks of the Dâmboviƫa river, where I now lay hunched over his expired corpse, draining every last drop of his foul blood.

I was one with the blood coursing through my veins, infiltrating any and all alcoves in my body. My virgin thirst — it was an awakening…a torture, a rapture. I began to shiver from the unfamiliar assault, yet relish in its hypnosis. My fangs remained impaled in the human’s neck, his flesh and bones shrivelled beneath me like parched wax, utterly succumbed to his due judgment.

If Adrian were here, he would have told me to pay heed. I could not stop drinking, and I could not stop shaking. It felt as if I had been submerged in a vast ocean, I’d been flailing my arms and legs to ascend the flood, screaming for mercy only for grey waters to surge like torrents into my lungs.

I think I was going to die.

Adrian, where are you…

His name could have been a call for the heavens, for I alas released the dead man, collapsing onto the glacial river bank. My heart, if I even had one, thundered unbearably loud. I could feel the ventricles around it contract, crushing my organ as though to rid me of the blood affliction.

Was this, then, my judgment? For taking yet another life, for wanting the blood curse, for loving a dhampir? “Forgive me father, for I have sinned.”

Though the river had been frozen over, the ripple of life teeming under the ice continued to echo in my ears. I felt like dying, yet my senses were undividedly sentient to all that was alive. I lay under the stygian night, staring through tear-soaked eyes at the pale moon, making out the strange shadows that it beheld. Adrian had kept journals detailing the movement of celestial objects — “you my love, shine brighter than any star.”

But there were no stars that night.

My mind unwittingly wandered to the first encounter I had as a vampire.

I’d been walking for miles, for weeks…months, perhaps? Freezing, weak, so hungry. I had retched more times than I could remember, body entirely hostile to my diet of animal blood. Through forests and ravines I treaded, barefooted, with nothing but my sword and dagger. No bearing nor plan braced me, save for the undying hope that I’d find Adrian.

By God’s good grace, I stumbled upon a village, but there stood only a handful of folks peddling commodities in the crux of winter. “What…what is the year of our…our lord?” my voice had strained against the cold as I uttered my first words since I’d awoken. It felt strange, as if all the years of sleeping had erased any memory of tongue. An old man, selling bread by the street, face worn away by time and hardship, shrank back as I approached. He clutched at a cross he wore around his neck.

“...By the power of God, I…I… command, command thee to disappear!”

What?

“Good sir, I need only know the year…”

The old man backed away into a wall, trembling, as if he’d just witnessed his reckoning.

“Take…take whatever you want, just please, please, spare me. I have a daughter…I beg of you…”

I stared at his face, then at the protruding veins on his neck, baffled by his reaction. Surely a woman such as I was hardly a threat…

“...my, my lady, here,” he gestured frantically to the bread on his cart. “Take them all, you look hungry…”

All manner of couth notwithstanding, I, with the eagerness of a starved peasant, shoved the loaves of bread into my mouth. Blood of dead animals — that was all the sustenance I had to keep me from dying, and bread appeared as a feast.

With wild terror in his eyes, the old man managed, “...the year is 1576, my lady,” and he fled.

My legs gave way. A century…I’d doomed Adrian to live in infamy over what I’d done.

And then I vomited. Again.

Lying by the river, that moment had seemed so long ago. I blinked, the tears on my face frozen stiff, like anguish that was here to stay.

Perhaps I ought to have remained in the castle until Adrian returned…would he return? An unwelcome, disquieting thought overcame me — what if, in all the years of waiting, he’d finally allowed himself to move on? To love another? And all of the pain, suffering, all of this, would have been in vain. I had longed to be as he was, to love him whole and true, and now that I was turned, I felt more alone than ever.

My heart once more burned with an unbearable ache. I had never loathed myself more than I had in that moment, for I had dealt an irreversible hand to Adrian. Reckless, selfish, impudent…and he was the one who had to pay for it.

—

My vampire prince stood waiting, arms tucked behind his back. He wore his golden hair as he always had — dreamlike, falling past his shoulders like gilded armour. Sunlight poured in, diffused, through the tall windows, the Great Hall’s stained-glass scattering its rays into a prismatic Arcadia.

Adrian kept his eyes on me as I descended the curved staircase. I let my hands glide down the silkened marble, studying not its noble facets, but his handsome face. Music from a harp echoed carelessly in the background.

“You are a sight to behold.” Adrian smiled as he took my hand in his. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

“Always.”

Adrian was born of the throne. There was a quiet power to his movement, his presence commanding soft surrender to all that he graced. My prince led me into a gradual step, sweeping the gold-trimmed tiles as though we were flowers adrift on Spring’s warm billow.

There were no masks and no pretending, just the sanctity of the moment, of star-crossed lovers, of when two souls could just…be.

I lay my head on his chest, his heartbeat a gentle melody. My eyes followed the shadows our bodies cast on the floor, against the soft glow of the waning sun.

He pressed his lips to the crown of my head, kissing me, whispering deep secrets he’d hidden in his heart. “I want us to stay like this forever. Just you and I. All my scars that I carry, your love disburdens. Let me love you as you have me, darling. We’ll soar as birds do, unafraid, free.”

The sky above us turned overcast.

A sudden flash of lightning tore through the now darkened skies, our shadows splitting into volatile fragments. The Great Hall began to tremor, dislodging the ceiling vaults. They hung precariously above us, pendulating to the call of the wind.

“Adrian…what’s happening?”

“Focus on me. Don’t be afraid.”

He drew me in closer, enveloping me in his arms. My eyes welled up. Death didn’t frighten me. No, losing Adrian, that was my greatest fear. I love him. The sky and earth could rip us apart, and I’ll love him with my last breath.

“I love you.” I whispered through tears.

All around us, debris fell like snow, gathering in a circle along our velvet robes. Perhaps in a thousand years, noblemen would rediscover our abode, and they would tell the story of a vampire and his bride, so in ardour, so together, unflinching even, in the face of death.

We carried on dancing to the haunting tune of the harp, ignorant of the destruction. The ground below bellowed, forming cracks like serpents snaking their way through tiles. I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Keep dancing, my darling.”

And so we did. The ceiling came crashing down, dragging with it pillars and vaults. Adrian held on tighter to me. “Adrian…I…”

One last rumble, and the stained-glass windows erupted into shards of glass, the shattering so loud I began to whimper. The iridescence was no more, just dust and stone and lovers tangled in a crumbling castle.

“Keep dancing, my darling…”

—

A nightmare…not so different from the one I was living, then. Waking up from a slumber I did not wish to have, I gasped for air, my exhale coming out as smoke against the night sky. How long had the sun not risen? I rolled over in an attempt to heave myself off the icebound gravel…only to collide into the scum corpse, his waxen, ghost-like eyes fixated on me.

Panting, I pushed away, but I couldn’t move my arms. They had been frozen — melded, into the earth. Could the undead still feel pain? I was soon to find out. I held my breath, and yanked.

Nothing.

I pulled again, and again, and…crack. A profound pain disoriented me. My flesh was ripped raw from my bone, parts of skin still adhered to ice. Threads of tendon or tissue or I could not recall what Adrian had taught me, hung like soaked spiderwebs from what was left of my arms.

“Fuck!!” I yelled into the dusk before I gave it one last pull, severing my flesh entirely. It was macabre and terrifying. I began sobbing from the pain, watching as blood poured into the frost like crimson rain.

I stumbled against a tree, staring at my mutilated limbs. From deep within a clearing, an all too familiar snarl arose. Not now, not now…

My cadaver-like hands reached for my sword. They would not grip. The steel slipped through my frictionless and bloody hands, each time landing on the frozen grassbed with a loud clang.

In a rapid flash, the night creature lurched at me from the thick of the trees, knocking me onto my back. It pinned me down with its many arms, or legs, foul fluid from its mouth leaking onto my face as I wrestled to gain dominance.

Being a vampire had indeed amplified my strength, had it not been for my half-functioning limbs, and the torrents of blood I’d ruminated, I would have torn through its heart. Spired-like teeth closing in on me, I sent a kick into the creature’s eye, buying me mere seconds to ponder my next move.

I rolled out from under the thing, and raced towards my only form of defence. The growl of the beast trailed me. I ran, and it followed. I ran, and it followed. My laboured breaths were the only thing ringing in my ears, and before I could offer a silent prayer to God, I was dragged and swung violently into a large stump.

The moving hound loomed over my motionless body, ready to eat its fill. I closed my eyes. I let its monstrous weight crush my body, let its rancid breath revolt me, let its spindly legs impale my chest…before I let it writhe with my sword lodged in its head.

Vampires regenerate. Albeit in fleeting moments of death. My arms had completely healed — they were whole and new, pale, feline, everything…everything that ached to hold Adrian one more time.

On that cold bitter night, nightmares were perennial. The monster that I’d killed, it was just the first of many, innumerable more to come. And like grim tribulation, they did come. I was lithe and shrewd with a sword. I moved quickly, bit off, even, pieces of their hellbound flesh, but it was a battle I could not win alone.

Bloodied, weakened and starving for nourishment, the ring of night creatures appeared to me as murky, indistinct orbs.

Death did not frighten me.

A sudden heat…was that fire? In a single blow, the creatures — near half of them, exploded into balls of flame. I had collapsed at that point, I wasn’t certain if I’d make the next sunrise. The fighting went on, and that…man…my legendary saviour…

He had a chain around my neck.

“You…” he spewed, beads of sweat dripping off his scarred shoulders. He had on the Belmont crest.

“Your Alucard is a madman, and you will be the one to stop his genocide. You’re going to do as I say, and you can finally reunite with your villain vampire, after which I’ll flay both your skins off your bones.”

A wild succour settled in my heart. Adrian is alive.

“Wh…where’s Alucard?”

“You’re going to help me find him.” The Belmont paused, scrutinising my face. “My grandparents showed me portraits of you, you know. Of your cursed dhampir. Spoke of you two as though you were a gift to the family…when really they should’ve long sealed you both in coffins.”

I stifled a cry. I never got the chance to say goodbye to Trevor and Sypha.

“Belmont…I…”

“Do not speak as if we are acquainted. I am Simon Belmont, not my grandfather. And we leave, now.”

At that, he hauled me up by my neck, as if I were an animal that needed to be caged. Into the night he led me, yanking his chain when I slowed. All way, I had been shivering in my white dress. It was stained with blood and grime, its sweeping train sodden with melting ice and remnants of night creatures. I craved warmth, rest, blood…but he didn’t need to know. A gentleman would offer his coat, at the very least, but Simon was filled with spite and loathing. I knew not why.

“Can you believe it?” He scoffed, directing his question forward, as if I did not exist. “I found you before your darling did. Oh to have Alucard begging at my feet…”

Adrian was looking for me. That was all that mattered. I didn’t need to put the pieces together. I just needed to find him.

“Why do you resent Alucard so? The Belmonts are family to him, to us. And I know…” I coughed, Simon’s metal chain boring into my neck. “...I know, having you like this, it breaks his heart.”

Simon stopped walking. He turned back, his face livid with rage. “Vampires do not have hearts.”

Beyond our trail, my senses discerned smoke and faint shrills of help. We were approaching a town. “Simon. There’s trouble in…”

A third voice broke our conversation. It was neither human nor vampire.

“The Belmont…and the dhampir’s bride…” the woman cackled, her reptile-like eyes flitting between Simon and I.

The odour of dark magic hung onto her like a sickness.

Simon stepped in between the intruder and me, hand gripping his Combat Cross. “I do not extend compassion to witches like you. Say what you want and be on your way.”

“Oh good hunter, I need only a moment, I promise. I am Salome, enchantress of the lands.”

The witch then turned to me. She scrunched her bark-like nose and began sniffing the air, thereafter breaking into a slow, languid, smile.

Something inside me whirled.

“I have waited so, so long…and there you are.” Her eyes dropped to my dress. “So precious…oh…” Long fingers — leathery and skeletal — reached out to caress the air around me. A chill ran down my spine. I wanted to leave.

I unsheathed my sword at once, and saw that Simon had his whip already furled in his hand.

“Why the hostility, my fair maiden? I can take you to your dhampir, your Adrian.”

If she had only said it to rattle me, then it was an act accomplished. My breathing became uneven, steel quivering in my hand.

“Your time is up, enchantress. Leave. I won’t ask again.” But Simon was a man of endeavours, and words meant little to him. He was not about to lose his quarry.

His Morningstar had struck Salome’s arm, branding a hole in her roughened skin. In a manner that aghast me, her body dispersed into a tenebrous vapour, rising into the air, casting a malefic shadow over barren canopies.

Higher and higher she rose, entrails emerging from its smog, alas culminating into an entity bereft of shape and shame.

“Release me, Belmont!”

He didn’t need to.

My chains were sundered. By blackened vines. Vines that were wound about Simon’s body, threatening to pulverise the proverbial Son of Belmont. He threshed against them, whip flying mercilessly, but Salome had the wrath of a demon scorned.

With the last of my resolve, I struck the formless witch over and over again, my consciousness waning with each thrust of the blade. I thought I had exchanged a glance with Simon, before he was hurled into the distance and vanished from view. Belmonts always survive, I think.

I began to suffocate in the tendrils of the witch.

“Take me…take me to Adrian…” I murmured, voice barely audible.

“Will you die for your prince?”

“Yes.”

The world around me began to spin. I was adrift on nothing, journeying through fire and penance. Where was Salome taking me? In a half-sleep, I felt the half-swelter of flames, sensed the half-quell of snow.

I heard voices, and the witch spoke.

“Is this, what you’re searching for?”

I was among the clouds, suspended so high in the depravity of her claws, and in a supine position, I could only turn my head.

…It was like seeing him for the first time.

My vampire.

“Adrian…”

I love you. I’m sorry, I am so sorry… all the words, all the pain, it was not enough. I was engulfed by the seas; sinking, never to see the light of day. Seeing him there, it was me ascending the flood, rising for air at long last.

Adrian was my beginning and my end.

Our souls met first, I think, colliding into each other, entwined, mourning our time lost. I could not reach him, but in a place that transcended passages of time, I was already in Adrian’s arms — safe, never to part.

He fell to his knees, weeping, the guilt he’d carried for a century crashing down along with it. “My love…my love…” I heard him say my name, too many times, as if he could not believe I was whole and breathing. “Is it really you?” he sobbed, choking on his contrition.

It broke my heart. Seeing Adrian so…defeated, a shell of his former light…I wished to take on his grief as my own and drown in the absolution of what I’d done. What had a century done to him? How much had he to suffer? He was paler than I remembered, and the bones about his face stuck prominent in places it shouldn’t be.

Despite it, his eyes remained that of God’s gold, his face gifted still, of Heaven’s token. But there were shadows that clung to him that whispered of terrible, terrible things.

“A reunion…how wonderful…” Salome mocked.

“I will feed your ashes to the wolves before you can touch her again.” Adrian wore a gallant mien, but I knew better. He had never been more afraid.

“How does it feel? To possess such…power? Power that you were born with, power that I had to sacrifice everything for! You wield it so carelessly, you are not deserving of it, son of Dracula.”

“Let her go!!”

“You are but a fool, Alucard. The bishop warned you, didn’t he? One that you took for drivel…I care not for you, nor your bride. Not the bloody Belmont always in my sight…”

My gaze shifted inadvertently to Simon flanked by night creatures. He made it.

“Ugh…” I flinched as the witch tightened her coils around me. Adrian rose to his feet, his sword ready for slaughter.

“No…what I want…” Salome, with deliberate slowness, extended a decomposing finger towards me. I struggled in her shackles — she was going to take my heart.

“...is here.”

She had her hands on my womb.

My body frosted over. I couldn’t breathe.

How was this possible?

The witch discharged a ravenous laugh and turned towards Adrian.

“Your child. Your flesh. Your blood.”

He clutched at his sword, knuckles gone white from the force, half-trembling in disbelief and shock.

“Its power is…unfathomable. Those born of Hell…they crave it. Why do you think the bishop wanted to burn her? So you’ll forgive me if I devour Dracula’s revered bloodline. After which you can have the corpse of your beloved.”

Adrian snapped. There was a tenor to him I had not recognised before. Disappearing into the snowfall, he emerged once more in the height of Salome, and, with a wave of his cape, expelled the fury of fireballs that tore into her. Tendrils of darkness emanated from where she took the blow.

My dhampir was relentless with his Hellfire. That rage, I’d seen something close to it when pagans attempted to revive Dracula. And those eyes… the whites of them gone dark, void of humanity…

With his shield as fortified armour, he slammed it into Salome with a force that could split the heavens. I was weakened, not bested. I could help…and then a thought came to me. She wanted the blood potence of our child? I was going to kill her with it.

A strange hum coursed through me as my fangs sliced through her entrails. The sensation was overwhelming; whatever that was racing in my veins threatened to blow the arteries out of my skin. I didn’t let go.

The wicked witch contorted in rage. “You bitch. What did you do?!” And, with all her vengeance directed at me, sent a sharpened talon into my throat.

I watched as Adrian went pale with fear.

Blood gushed out of my wound, of my mouth...I began to choke on it. The pain…I could succumb to the torture and end the strife…but our child, our beacon of light…I will keep you safe.

Adrian went manic. His rage was boundless — so potent that the night sky had erupted into a macabre shade of red at his wrath.

Summoning his sword, he pierced it into the witch’s formless face, driving it in over and over until parts of her began to decay, melting like molten ash into the earth.

“Do not touch her!!”

The neverending pursuit of power…when will it cease? Under snow that crumbled like exhumed remains of the dead, we were all just pawns of Hades waltzing to the dance of death.

“The tragic prince. So powerful, so damned…everything that you ever loved will be taken away from you.”

A piercing crack of the whip silenced the witch. In a lachrymose state I watched as Simon’s Morningstar split a part of her form. She continued to disintegrate.

I continued to asphyxiate.

“Give me your bride, and we can end this. Refuse me, and all of Targoviste will burn to the ground. Your beloved or your people. Choose, Alucard.”

Lightning struck the sky crimson and boding. Adrian scarcely seemed human. A bloody hearth surrounded him, and his sword emanated the fury of a cursed God.

“You will never touch her again.”

And with his parting words to the witch, he pummelled his exalted estoc into her core. The earth trembled under the weight of her destruction. I was released at last, but the aftermath of her implosion pelted me so far backwards I lost sight of Adrian. I was falling, falling into darkness, into nothingness, so akin to the night Adrian had turned me.

Under that cold winter sky, I was the star that had fizzled out. Further and further I descended from Heaven’s grasp, snow light on my skin, sorrow heavy in my heart. Such a cruel thing; love.

It binds then banishes, as though we were made to ever only yearn, never to own.

My love…

I heard Adrian’s voice.

Amidst the infernal tempest, I saw the face of an angel. He was soaring through the ruination, towards me. But there was an oddness to the way he moved, as though part of what I remembered him to be was fading away. A moment of clarity had me privy to his wounds — he was greviously maimed, splotches of blood stained his torso and…his leg…there were bones where there should have been flesh.

I reached for him. His eyes met mine; in them I caught a glimpse of our little family, bound by forever. In all the years, I could almost hold him. I need only hold him…

Adrian flung his arms out, a shiny fragment of something suspended in the air around me. Another hovered beneath Simon, who was crouched in the belly of the beast. In that same consequence, my sweet prince was thrown towards the crumbling abyss of Salome, the last of her devouring all that she could seize.

No, no…

I willed myself to fly, to wield gravity, anything, so I could lift Adrian away from the grasps of death. But I could only fall, through frost, tears and blood. I had to watch, to merely do nothing but watch, as the gold in his eyes dimmed out into the sweeping storm of blackness.

“I love you.”

I held on to his words, before I was pulled into a vacuum.

—

There were things, prickling my skin. There was a quietness, a lull. There was the sun, scorching such warmth. I was sprawled on my back, bones gnawing with every movement. Where was I? I forced my eyes open.

The portal that I had fallen through, no remnants of it were left behind. Adrian was gone.

What lay beyond me were endless fields of gold. Rows and rows of Daffodils, in full bloom, stood swaying in the brisk summer air.

I could hear the crashing waves of oceans.

And in the middle of it all, forged in all its majesty, awaited a castle.

Adrian had kept his promise.

Pt I I Pt II I Pt III

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najia-cooks · 2 months ago

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Fig buttercup soup

This earthy, complex, savory soup is a play on Italian wedding soup, using a common invasive garden weed as its bitter green.

Fig buttercup, or lesser celandine (Ficaria verna), is a low-growing, flowering perennial that can be damaging to ecosystems in many parts of the United States and Canada, where it has been widely introduced. It forms dense mats early on in the spring, and out-competes other wildflowers; the resulting lack of variety can be harmful to pollinators.

If you have a small infestation, it can be cleared by digging it up manually, though you will need to take care to gather all the tubers, and the small bulbils on the stems, from which the plant can regrow. It's best to eradicate lesser celandine before it has a chance to flower. There is a recompense for your trouble: all parts of this plant, including its roots and tubers, are edible if cooked or dried.

Recipe below the cut!

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Raw lesser celandine contains protoanemonin, a toxin that can cause nausea, vomiting, or paralysis if ingested in large quantities. The plant must be cooked or dried to eliminate the toxin. Keep all parts of the plant that you're going to eat at or above boiling point for at least 15 minutes.

Younger plants have less of the toxin, and some people report consuming young leaves raw, but I haven't tried this myself. If you want to eat lesser celandine leaves raw, I would suggest pulling the leaves, but leaving the tubers, then harvesting the leaves in another couple of days, when they have had a chance to sprout again. That way you will know for sure that the leaves are young. It is probably easier to just find some bittercress or violet, though!

Ingredients

500g lesser celandine (leaves, roots, and tubers)

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

2 tsp cumin (jeera)

1 tsp kala jeera

1 tsp black mustard seeds (rai)

2 pods green cardamom (elaichi), lightly crushed

1 Mediterranean (laurel) bay leaf

1 large white or yellow onion, diced

4 cloves garlic, chopped

1 green Thai bird's eye chili pepper (optional)

1 large tomato, diced

1 carrot, sliced (optional)

1 vegetarian chicken bouillon cube, or paste

Water or vegetable stock, to cover

1/4 cup acini di pepe

Salt and black pepper, to taste

Drizzling olive oil and lemon wedges, to serve

Lesser celandine leaves are a little bitter: like kale, or spinach, but more mildly flavored. The tubers are mildly earthy, like potatoes. My choice of spices plays up the earthy qualities of the leaves and tubers, but you can spice this soup any way you'd like.

Instructions

1. Place plants in a large bowl filled with water and agitate. Lift plants out of the water into a colander to allow dirt to sink to the bottom. Pour the dirty water through a strainer to capture any stray tubers, and set the tubers aside. Repeat this washing and straining process until the water runs completely clear. You may need to rub the tubers and roots between your hands to loosen dirt.

2. Roughly chop the leaves, being sure to separate large clusters at the base. Optionally remove some of the larger roots (the roots are edible and I found that they softened into the soup, rather than remaining chewy or stringy, so it's up to you).

3. If you have any particularly long tubers, cut them into bite-sized pieces.

4. Heat olive oil on medium in a large, heavy-bottomed pot. Add whole spices (cumin seeds, kala jeera, mustard seeds, cardamom, bay leaf) and fry for 30 seconds to a minute, until cumin seeds are popping into the air.

5. Add tubers and onion and fry 3-5 minutes, until onion is translucent. Add garlic and chili and fry until onion is browned and garlic is golden.

6. Add tomato and salt and fry until tomato is softened.

7. Add the rest of the plants and heat, stirring occasionally, until leaves are wilted.

8. Add water or vegetable stock to cover, and stir. Add carrots if using. Cover the pot and simmer for 15 minutes.

9. Remove some broth into a separate bowl and whisk in bouillon. Pour back into the pot.

10. Add pasta and cook for 9-11 minutes, until tender. Taste and adjust salt and pepper.

Identifying lesser celandine

Do not eat any plant unless you have a conclusive identification. The information here is intended as a general guide and is not necessarily sufficient to conclusively identify this plant.

Large bed of lesser celandine showing flowers, leaves, and buds

Lesser celandine grows from a cluster of underground tubers in a dense rosette. Tubers are oblate; on larger plants, they grow in clusters.

Unearthed clump of lesser celandine, with roots; clean tuber at right

Leaves are hairless, fleshy, and cordate (heart-shaped), with wavy margins (edges); they are dark green on top, and pale green or silverish on the bottom. They can sometimes show variegation (lighter patterning). Petioles (leaf stalks) have deep grooves down the center.

Leaf top (left) and underside (right). Petiole is visibly grooved from the front

Flowers are yellow or purple and bractless, with 7-9 petals, and many stamens and carpels.

Lesser celandine flower; leaf at bottom left shows some variegation

Lookalikes

Violet

Before it flowers, lesser celandine may resemble violet. Violet leaves have a greater tendency to curl inward at the petiole to form cups. They are more heavily serrated, rather than gently scalloped, as lesser celandine leaves are. Violets grow from rhizomes, rather than tubers. The flowers and leaves of the violet plant are edible raw or cooked; the rhizomes are not.

Violet (left); lesser celandine (right)

Littleleaf buttercup

Lesser celandine leaves may resemble the lower leaves of the littleleaf, or kidney leaf, buttercup; but littleleaf buttercup is an upright plant, with stems several inches in height. Little buttercup is toxic cooked or raw.

#foraged #fig buttercup #lesser celandine #soups

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yeet-me-dad-dy · 6 months ago

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The Arcane - Chapter Four - Anomaly

Summary: You find an anomaly in Viktor's blood. He takes you down to see his old doctor. You meet Vander.

Characters: Viktor x Male Reader (Dr Raven) x Jayce (Eventually)

Warnings: Blood

Words: 2,408

After Viktor departed from your lab, you set the centrifuge, prepared a slide, poured yourself a drink, and sat down to examine his blood more closely. It was clear right away that something was wrong.

“What the…?” you mumbled as you gazed through the microscope.

His red blood cell count was fine and the cells were dispersed nicely – not too close together, not too far apart, not clumped up in groups. But there was an… anomaly. Around the white spot of hemoglobin at the center of each cell was a blue ring.

That’s why his blood seems purple. The red and blue are mixing. You made a quick, preliminary note of the observation. Without more testing, there was no way to know whether this anomaly was strictly discoloration, or if it was something more serious. Was it preventing the cells from transporting oxygen throughout his body? You would have to separate a cell and look more closely at the… mutation? Toxin? You weren’t sure. Normally, this kind of mystery would delight you. You were excited at the prospect of making new discoveries, of course, but you were also worried. Would the research you were conducting on your own blood be able to fix a problem you’d never seen before and hadn’t accounted for during testing? The best way to find out what would happen if you mixed your blood with Viktors was to do just that.

You prepared a secondary slide, focused the microscope, then pricked your finger. Carefully, you picked up a tiny bit of your blood on the end of a scalpel and dropped it into Viktor’s on the slide. You peered through the lens, holding your breath. With other samples of diseased blood, the common trend was that your blood would mix with the foreign sample and dissolve whatever anomaly it found present, whether that be an infection or something else, rendering it harmless. From there, the theory was that this bi-product would be filtered out of the blood when it traveled through the liver, and then be disposed of in the urine.

That was only a theory, however, because none of your subjects ever survived long enough to prove it. For some, death took seconds. For others, minutes, hours, or even days. For all of them, though, it was excruciating.

And this was why: After a few seconds of contact with your blood, Viktor’s cells began to burst. You expected no less. The main focus of your research was figuring out how to make your blood less volatile. You couldn’t figure out why it had the effect it did, and while some of your research had proven promising in delaying the inevitable, you had been unable to stop it entirely.

This small test was a good sign, despite the outcome. This proved that your blood could remove the anomaly from Viktor’s cells if it turned out to be harmful. You just had to find a way to get it to work without killing him, which is what you’d been trying to do for the last hundred years with no success. You sighed and leaned back in your chair, pinching the bridge of your nose. There were other tests to run, other observations to be made. It could be that the blue ring was nothing more than a strange pigmentation phenomenon and wasn’t hurting him at all. It could be that his previous doctors had been so focused on this strange blue ring that they had completely missed a more obvious answer. The human body, so intricate and complex… Everything was connected. If one thing went wrong, everything was affected.

You stopped by Heimerdinger’s office later that evening, around five, with dinner for Viktor.

“The apple wasn’t enough?” he asked slyly when you set the bag of take-out on the desk next to him.

“I’m afraid it’s going to take more than an apple to keep this doctor away. Sorry,” you smirked.

“What if I throw it hard enough?”

You chuckled and pulled up an extra chair to sit next to him. He put down the notes he was organizing for Heimerdinger and opened the bag to see what you had brought him. A fresh, hot, healthy meal awaited him, and while he didn’t usually have much of an appetite, the smell of it was making his mouth water.

“Any breakthroughs?” he asked as he fished the fork out of the bag.

“Breakthroughs? No. Curious observations? Many.”

“Do tell.”

“There’s still more testing to be done, but what I can tell you is that your blood is healthy, except for one thing.”

“Oh?”

You nabbed the orange out of the bag and peeled it for him.

“There’s an… anomaly," you explained. A blue ring around the hemoglobin in each red cell that shouldn’t be there.”

“Anomaly indeed,” Viktor agreed, his brows furrowed. “So what does this mean?”

“Like I said, there’s more testing to be done to find out what that ring actually is and what effect its having on your body. It could just be pigmentation.”

“But then, what’s causing it?”

You shrugged.

“That’s the million dollar question. A question I’m afraid I’ll have to take a lot more samples in order to answer. Samples of more than just your blood.”

He tilted his head to the side, not quite understanding.

“Plasma and bone, primarily.”

Oh. Those were not pleasant samples to give.

“But those can wait for now” you assured him with a soft smile when you saw the sick look on his face.

After dinner, you took Viktor to your lab to show him the slides and explained what he was seeing, chatting at length about the possible causes and effects of the mysterious blue ring. Then, when the sun finally dipped below the horizon, it was time for Viktor to show you to the Undercity, where you hoped his medical records could be found.

The Undercity was damp and smelly, with a comforting darkness pierced by blinding neon lights. The gaze of every Trencher was on you and Viktor as you wound through the narrow, muddy streets, some glittering with greed as they took in your expensive clothes, and others darkened by fear when your red-hot gaze found theirs. You were on edge and Viktor could tell.

“Relax, will you?” he said as he limped along.

“Not sure I can do that,” you chuckled dryly.

The streets became thinner, the buildings more dense and compact the farther down you traveled. The deeper he led you, the thicker and more oppressive the air became, as well. It didn’t take long for Viktor to start coughing.

“Stop, Viktor,” you said, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. “I can find my way from here. I want you to go back where the air is nicer.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but another coughing fit overtook him. When he finally got control of it, he nodded.

“I’ll met you on the bridge.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I want you to stay close. Meet me at the edge The Lanes.”

Worried I’m going to get mugged, are you?” he smirked.

“Of course I am.”

His smirk fell, and he frowned.

“The people of The Undercity aren’t animals, doctor.”

“No, but some of them are desperate, and you would make an easy mark.”

“That applies to people in Piltover, too, you know.”

“I know. Which is why I would be asking you to stick close if we were up there, too.”

He sighed. He wanted to be offended, to argue that he could take care of himself, but instead, he found your protectiveness… endearing.

“At the edge of The Lanes, then,” he agreed.

It wasn’t a long walk back, and anyone who so much as looked at Viktor shied away when they saw you watching. He would be fine. As he limped away, you turned and continuing deeper into The Fissures. The air down here wasn’t necessarily toxic anymore, thanks to the filtration system that House Kirraman had installed years ago. But it was still heavy, and, gods, the smell. Like sulfur and sewage. The people down here regarded you with mistrust. Topsiders didn't come down here unless they were there for shady dealings. You didn't belong... Or did you? You were scary enough to fit in, that was for sure, but your clothes betrayed your status. You yourself were an anomaly in the veins of The Undercity.

You approached one of the first people you encountered, but she scurried away, hissing obscenities, before you could ask your question. It took you quite some time to find anyone willing to point you toward Viktor’s former doctor. When you did finally find him, you were not impressed in the least. Actually, you were appalled. The “hospital” was nothing more than a run-down shack. It may have been a proper hospital at one point, but now it was nothing more than dirt and grime on some old boards.

A bell chimed overhead when you opened the door and stepped inside. Somehow, the air in here was even stuffier than out there. You curled your lip, disgusted at the state of the place. It didn’t look like it had been cleaned in years. Bottles with various colored liquids filled shelves alongside ancient medical tools. You were thankful the glass on the bottles was so filthy. Some of the things floating in them were… questionable. You weren’t sure you wanted to know exactly what they contained.

An older man with a potbelly appeared from a door in the back. He wore a leather apron, stained with old, dried blood, and the frizzy white hair atop his head stuck out at odd angles. He was hunched and limped when he walked, and one of his eyes seemed to be glued permanently shut with some kind of greenish pus. He looked more like a mad scientist than a doctor.

“How can I help?” he asked with a voice like gravel, resting his fat, filthy hands on the reception desk.

“My name is Doctor Raven. I’m here regarding a former patient of yours, Viktor. I need his medical records.”

He didn’t react for a moment, and you wondered if he’d heard you at all. Finally, he nodded slowly.

“Viktor, yes… I remember now.”

“Do you have his records?” you asked.

He grumbled and looked around.

“I think… Yes…”

He shuffled back into the back room and was gone for ages before finally reappearing with a file. He handed it to you, and you were thankful you’d worn your gloves as you took it from him. You opened it. Three pages.

“This is it?” you asked, glancing up at him.

He shrugged.

“There wasn’t much to record. Bad bones, bad blood.”

You scoffed and shook your head.

“Thanks,” you mumbled as you turned to leave.

He cleared his throat loudly, catching your attention, and you heard him shuffle up behind you. He glared at you, his hand out, palm up.

Of course.

You fished a few coins out of your pocket and handed them to him, careful not to make contact.

You were frustrated and in poor spirits when you met back up with Viktor. He stood when you approached, eyes bright and curious.

“Did you find him?”

You held up the file.

“Not sure it was worth our time, but yes.”

He took the file and thumbed through it.

“This is it?” he asked.

“I asked the same thing.”

“I visited him hundreds of times while I lived down here, and this is all he has…” He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

“I’ll make do,” you assured him. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

You stuck close to his side as you picked your way back through the broken streets to the bridge, giving more than a few warning growls to those with greedy eyes and sticky fingers. You stopped halfway across.

“Go ahead,” you said. “I think I’m going to linger for a bit. I want to have a look around. This place disgusts me, I won’t lie, but… It’s also exactly the kind of place I want to help. The kind of people I want to help.”

Viktor smiled.

“Take your time, Doctor.”

You did take your time, talking with those that would give you the time of day, asking about their health and their woes. You knew that the Upper City didn’t care much for those below, but you didn’t realize the full extent of their neglect. You were glad that Viktor got out of there. Eventually, you found your way to a bar called The Last Drop. The barkeeper greeted you heartily and asked what you’d like to drink. You declined the drink politely and instead continued your investigation.

“Yeah, things can get pretty bad down here,” he said quietly. “We don’t have much in the way of medical attention, but the doctors we do have do what they can to help. On top of that, the food down here isn’t great. We have plenty of seafood, but fresh fruit and vegetables are few and far between.”

You nodded, listening intently. He leaned forward on the bar.

“What’s a fancy doctor like you doing down here anyway?” he asked, more quietly.

“I came with a patient, to get medical records from his former doctor. I’ve only been in Piltover for two days, and I have to admit, I’m not delighted to see how they treat this part of their population.”

He scoffed.

“Topside couldn’t care less about what goes on down here in the Trenches.”

“Yes, that’s the conclusion I came to as well,” you said quietly.

“Sure I can’t get you a drink?” he asked. “You look like you could use one.”

You chuckled.

“No, thank you. I should be heading back. Thanks for talking with me.”

You tried to give him some coin for his time and information, but he refused with a chuckle.

“No need for that, Doctor. You just do what you can to help the people down here, and we'll call it even. Hey, what’s your name, before you go?”

“Raven,” you answered as you stepped down from the barstool. “Doctor Raven.”

“Vander,” he said, offering his hand.

You didn’t want to touch the Fissures doctor, but Vander’s hand, you didn’t hesitate to shake.

“Until next time, then, Vander.”

You bid him farewell and made your way back toward home, following the path illuminated by the silver glow of the moon.

#my writing #arcane #arcane viktor #arcane viktor x reader #arcane viktor x male reader #vampire reader #viktor x reader #viktor x male reader

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sugarsprinklesoul · 2 years ago

Text

GLOW TIPS FOR SKIN

Skincare Routine: Establish a consistent skincare routine with cleanser, toner, moisturizer, and sunscreen to keep your skin clean and protected.

Hydration: Drink plenty of water to keep your skin hydrated from the inside out, promoting a healthy and radiant complexion.

Balanced Diet: Include fruits, vegetables, and foods rich in vitamins and antioxidants for overall skin health.

Sun Protection: Use sunscreen with at least SPF 30 to shield your skin from harmful UV rays and prevent premature aging.

Adequate Sleep: Ensure you get enough sleep as it plays a crucial role in skin regeneration and overall well-being.

Exercise Regularly: Physical activity improves blood circulation, promoting a healthy glow and helping to flush out toxins.

Avoid Stress: Chronic stress can affect your skin. Practice stress-management techniques like meditation or yoga.

Gentle Exfoliation: Exfoliate regularly to remove dead skin cells, unclog pores, and promote cell turnover for a brighter complexion.

Moisturize: Keep your skin moisturized to maintain elasticity and prevent dryness, especially in dry or cold environments.

Limit Makeup: Allow your skin to breathe by minimizing the use of heavy makeup and opting for non-comedogenic products.

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mothiir · 11 months ago

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the watcher from the wastes

Mortarion jerks it. That’s it, that’s the fic. @moodymisty and @kit-williams to blame, specially @kit-williams since I basically stole her entire idea.

cw: wanking. self loathing, sort of. mort being a creep and having issues with bodily autonomy. self harm in a weird 40k way. did not mean it to be this gross but ended up that way because morty.

—

This process is deeply unpleasant, and Mortarion prefers to go through it as little as possible — and yet you, cursed thing that you are, have forced him to drastic measures.

First of all: the mask must be removed. He unhooks it from his ears, curlicues of oily smoke escaping as the suction gives way. He holds his breath, keeping the toxic fumes nestled in his lungs as long as possible, and sets the mask onto his desk. His work-chair is hewn from the sort of raw pig iron that has Horus despairing. Brother I can have something nicer made — even something with a cushion —

Mortarion does not need such frivolity. It is a chair. He can sit upon it. Thus it serves its purpose.

He can hold his breath for hours, should he need to, but that would defeat the whole purpose of this exercise. With a moment to brace himself, Mortarion exhales the last of the gas, momentarily covering his face in a rank green shadow.

It dissipates, and Mortarion waits for a few heartbeats to pass before inhaling.

He tastes his own flesh: half-cooked, and putrefying.

It is not an unfamiliar taste — it’s almost nostalgic. For a moment, he is a boy once more, nailed to the bowels of an alien planet, eyes fixed on the distant, uncaring sky.

He inhales again. Sharper now. The glutinous phlegm his sinuses produced in a vain attempt to capture the worst of the toxins is starting to thin. He coughs it out into his sleeve, then spits on the floor. Another breath. His throat is always the worst. The gas rots the tissue within, destroying the tender membranes, rendering his voice raspy and ragged.

Without the constant application of the gas, his body has time to heal. And oh how the healing hurts. He hacks up a glob of snot, and then of quivering red tissue. Inside, his cells multiply frantically, like they know that they only have a scant space of time before the mask is reapplied and the perpetual injuring begins once more.

Another burst of coughing; then a frankly revolting sneeze — again, captured into the billowing sleeves of his robe.

He inhales again — and curses, because the healing has moved faster than last time, and his sense of smell has returned with a vengeance. By the Emperor’s ballsack, the stench is overwhelming. What —

He looks down at himself: robes stiffened with effluvia from experiments and battle, fresh gobbets of snot and rancid blood dripping off the end of his sleeves. Hm. Yes, well — that would explain it.

—

By the time he has finished bathing, his body has healed as much as it will ever be able to, and he feels acutely uncomfortable. Even without the influence of the gas, his voice is still a guttural rasp, vocal cords ruined from years of experimentation. His shoulders still hunch instinctively, used to crowding through narrow corridors; his eyes — though brighter — still have sclera of sulphur yellow, polluted with broken blood vessels.

When he inhales the poison of his homeland, at least he has an excuse for how broken his body still is. Without it, his weak flesh stands in testament to the monumental failure of his youth. Not only did he fail to slay the monster who held him captive, he failed to recover from its abuses, remaining a broken-limbed mess of a Primarch.

And yet — and yet a part of him enjoys this feeling. There is no pain in his throat, or behind his eyes; he is not subject to the constant cycle of his lungs rotting into slurry and healing themselves once more. His gums are shiny and pink, not sloughing off his teeth in grey scraps.

Best of all, his senses have returned to their Primarch peak. Even constantly poisoned, and half-crippled, he can smell and taste and hear better than any baseline — pathetic little things the lot of them, no better than scurrying ants.

Apart from…well. You smiled at him You did not cower from the pallour of his flesh, or cringe from the huff and click of his respirator. You looked him full in the face and you beamed.

Lord Primarch, you called him. Lord Mortarion.

And afterwards, to your friend, where you thought he couldn’t hear you: you never said he was handsome.

He pointed you out to Typhus, a little later. Asked his eldest son why they were so desperate for staff that they were now employing defective baselines, like you, who clearly had an incredibly limited range of vision — if you weren’t blind entirely. Typhus had informed him that he didn’t think you were blind — indeed, you had cleaned his armour to perfection just this morning — but if you displeased Mortarion he could have you —

No, Moration cut in. No, that wasn’t necessary.

Not blind. Just — stupid, possibly.

Probably.

Anyway — if you are stupid then he is a fool as well. And worse: he does not have the excuse of being mortal.

Soapy and slick, white hair hanging in a curtain down his back, Mortarion sits in the deserted communal showers and stares at a little plastic sleeve in his left hand. It’s sealed tight — waterproof, preserving the object within as well as can be hoped for. He wonders if you have noticed the theft yet. Probably. Serfs aboard the Endurance do not have many possessions — they do not need them. More than likely he’s caused a little bit of grief, with you either blaming yourself for the loss, or snapping at one of your fellows, blaming them.

He cannot bring himself to care.

His clothes are long gone. The serfs will incinerate them, and bring him new ones when he sends for them. Perhaps this time, he will not go so long without cleaning them. Humans have terrible senses, but he wagers that you would probably prefer —

He amputates that thought abruptly. It does not matter what you prefer. It does not matter what anyone prefers. This is a temporary indulgence to end his madness, and then he will move on.

The plastic crinkles as he opens it, his tongue dashing out to wet his lower lip. The garment is plain cotton, with a little green bow at the front.

Garment. Fabric. So many distancing words to cover up the fact that he has stolen your underwear. He can never let Horus find out. He can never let anyone find out. Even though there is no one here to witness his shame, he feels a flush creep up his back. His cock leaps eagerly as he takes himself in hand, his toes curling on the wet floor. It has been so long since he last touched himself.

It’s pathetic. It’s revolting. And yet —

Mortarion buries his face into the gusset of your underwear, inhaling deeply as he strokes himself. Your scent is faded, but still clings to the fabric, thick and musky and sweet. He can imagine burying his face between your thighs, just inhaling. He’d bite your soft flesh, leaving bruises the exact shape of his teeth — and he would not let them heal. He’d do it every night until they scarred, and you could not change clothes without remembering exactly whose bed you were crawling into.

His breath stutters; his drool seeps into the cotton as he sucks. He’s never taken anyone to bed — there have always been more important things — but he knows what he wants to do. He knows that you would smile at him, and stroke his scars with gentle hands, and welcome him in so deeply that no one would ever be able to pry him out. You’d let him ruin your insides, stretch you so no other man would ever be able to satisfy you again. He’d fill you up to the brim, and then he’d do it again, and again, and again. He’d make you swallow him until you were coughing his seed up, he’d cum in your hair and —

His orgasm rips through him like a tempest, so abrupt that he cries out in shock, cum spurting up over his chest. His flanks heave, and he comes back to his senses in a humiliating rush — he’s chewed through your underwear, shreds of fabric stuck between his teeth. He picks them out, grimacing.

A shameful display. He cannot wait to do it again.

#mortarion/reader #uh yeah i have no excuse for this #alternative summary: what if mortarion stole your knickers #my writing

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weirdmarioenemies · 3 months ago

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Name: Red Milkweed Beetle (Tetraopes tetrophthalmus)

Debut: Real Life

I love bugs, doop de doop doo. And this one right here is my very favorite! It's the Red Milkweed Beetle, my dear best friend who visits me every summer! Milkweed is one of my favorite plants, because it is home to Red Milkweed Beetle!

Red Milkweed Beetle is a species of longhorn beetle, none of which have horns, but all of which have long antennae. They should call that one cattle breed the Texas Longantenna! With a name like Red Milkweed Beetle, what you see is what you get. It's Red. It lives on Milkweed. By God! It's Beetle.

One of my favorite aspects of the Red Milkweed Beetle is how accessible it is! It is an excellent ambassador for insect-kind, and a perfect educational opportunity to convert the heretics (people who don't like bugs). It looks vaguely similar to a ladybug, so people are more receptive to it from the start. It's kind of big, so it's extremely easy to find and observe. It's harmless (unless you eat it but please don't eat it), so there's no risk in handling it. It's even so easy to pick up! You just reach over and get it, and that's it. You can hold it and look at it up close until it decides to fly away! An obnoxiously charming creature.

Another of my favo- huh? You still want to eat it? Come on. Don't eat it. Why not? FINE I'll at least give you a reason. Red Milkweed Beetle is toxic! If you want to eat it, I regret to inform you that you have failed one of the core lessons of Would You Eat. "Creatures Bright In Hue, Would Feel Nasty In You"!

Milkweed munchers like our beloved beetle, monarch butterfly caterpillars, and even milkweed slurpers like milkweed bugs are able to consume the plant's toxins, making their own tissues poisonous! They all share a red/orange and black color scheme as adults, to serve as a warning to potential predators. Isn't it nice that they all have similar colors? Only one creature needed to come up with the style, the rest only had to find a fitting outfit!

Now how in the world does something eat a poisonous plant? I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to eat it. You are not a specialized bug. Milkweed's trademark goop is not only toxic, but sticky, gumming up the mouthparts of any poor fool who tries to eat it willy-nilly. Getting your mouth clogged up for too long, is obviously, a death sentence!

Red Milkweed Beetle has a clever little trick. You don't have to worry about toxic goop if you simply remove the toxic goop! So, it chews a hole at the base of the leaf. The goop begins to drain out, and the beetle can start eating from the top, not having to worry about that stuff! What a smart beetle!

Sadly, when I tell people about Red Milkweed Beetle and it's feeding habits, I often get the same question: "So are they harmful?" It's not an intentionally mean-spirited question on the asker's part, but it's so frustrating that this is how so, so many people have been conditioned to think of insects. I suppose you could say Red Milkweed Beetle is, indeed, harmful to the milkweed plant. And if you say that, you would also have to say that monarch butterflies are harmful. They eat the plant, too! They don't get any special treatment just because they're popular.

Animals will eat plants. Plants will be eaten. It's how nature works! Milkweed plants and milkweed beetles evolved alongside each other, keeping each other in perfect balance. Red Milkweed Beetle "harms" the plant in a sustainable way that allows both to survive. As much as I hate that "are they harmful" question, I suppose it IS a good teaching opportunity, the perfect chance to immediately change a perspective for the kinder...

Now time for silly! If you know Red Milkweed Beetle, you've been waiting for this part of the post. This creature has FOUR EYES!... kind of! It kind of depends on what you call an eye. The base of the beetles' antennae are right there in the middle of its compound eyes, splitting each into two neat sections! So, two compound eyes, each split into two. That's not even counting the ocelli on top! Seven eyes! Even more than Opabinia!

Some insects have bisected eyes in a practical way. Whirligig beetles, for example, live on the surface of the water, and have a pair of eyes on top and a pair of eyes on the bottom, granting the ability to see above and below the water at the same time! Red Milkweed Beetle's four eyes allow it to... I don't actually know. I'm not sure anyone knows! They're the same kind of eyes, and they all operate in the same environment. They don't seem to help in detecting danger (they're pathetically easy to catch), and their warning coloration means they wouldn't really NEED to watch for predators. They can spend the day just mating in plain sight, and not have to worry about a thing! Not even judgement from their peers, because their peers are also mating in plain sight!

I need to end this post somewhere, and I think I have shared plenty of information already, so now is a fine time. What do YOU think of Red Millweed Beetle? Have you ever seen it? Would you like to? I'm rooting for you! Please share with me facts about them I haven't mentioned! And if you have any images of their larval and/or pupal stages, please show me! I have never seen them!

#red milkweed beetle #tetraopes tetrophthalmus #beetle #beetles #insects #coleoptera #not mario #real life #zoology #entomology #april fools #mod chikako

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mariacallous · 3 days ago

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Vaccine experts in the United States have long considered the case on thimerosal closed. A chemical preservative that stamps out contamination in vaccine vials, thimerosal was removed from most U.S. shots more than two decades ago over worries that its mercury content could trigger developmental delays. But those concerns—as well as baseless claims that thimerosal causes autism—have been proven unfounded, many times over. “We took care of this 20 years ago,” Kathryn Edwards, a pediatrician and vaccine expert at Vanderbilt University, told me.

That’s not how anti-vaccine activists see the compound. Even the strongest data supporting thimerosal’s safety have not quelled the concerns of those who insist on the chemical’s harms. And now the CDC’s Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices, or ACIP, has signaled that thimerosal’s presence in vaccines should remain open for debate. The panel is scheduled on Thursday to discuss the compound, which is present in a minority of flu shots in low or trace amounts, and vote on how vaccines containing it should be used.

The panel that will meet this week is more skeptical of vaccines than any version in ACIP history. Earlier this month, Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. abruptly dismissed all 17 existing members of the panel—among them, some of the nation’s foremost experts in vaccinology, infectious disease, pediatrics, and public health—and replaced them with eight new members who largely lack expertise in vaccines and, in several cases, have espoused anti-vaccine viewpoints. This new panel will hear a presentation on thimerosal not from a career vaccine scientist—as is usual ACIP practice—but from Lyn Redwood, one of the first vocal advocates of the false notion that thimerosal causes autism and the former president of Children’s Health Defense, the anti-vaccine organization that Kennedy chaired until 2023.

ACIP’s charter is to evaluate the data and guide the country’s approach to vaccines. By reopening the case on thimerosal, Kennedy’s handpicked committee has already chosen to entertain a classic anti-vaccine talking point. If the new ACIP’s vote further limits the use of vaccines containing the compound, it will also show, from the get-go, how willing it is to disregard evidence.

A multitude of studies, going back more than 20 years, has shown that thimerosal has no link to autism. Children who have received thimerosal-containing vaccines aren’t at higher risk of developing autism. Nor has removing the compound from much of the vaccine supply in multiple countries—including the U.S.—decreased autism rates. Instead, autism rates have gone up. (Experts who study autism attribute that rise largely to more awareness and more sensitive diagnostics; Kennedy, meanwhile, insists, without evidence, that the uptick is the work of an “environmental toxin” that “somebody made a profit” on.)

But around the turn of the millennium, experts felt pressured to remove thimerosal from vaccines, especially those targeted to young children. After studies had linked chronic exposure to high levels of mercury found in fish and whale blubber to developmental delays, scientists began to worry about the element’s effects on the young brain. The FDA kick-started a campaign to suss out the mercury content of the products it oversaw. By 1999, researchers had pinpointed thimerosal as suspect: The levels of the type of mercury found in vaccines containing the compound seemed, at the time, worryingly high, Walter Orenstein, who directed the U.S.’s National Immunization Program from 1988 through 2004, told me. “So there were concerns that it might be harmful to children.” (Autism, notably, wasn’t a consideration.)

No research proved that harm, but the fears seemed theoretically legitimate. “It put us in a very difficult position,” Orenstein said. The studies necessary to thoroughly test whether the thimerosal in vaccines was toxic could take years; in the meantime, kids could suffer unnecessarily. Some experts argued that keeping thimerosal in the vaccine supply wasn’t worth the risk to children’s health—and to public trust in immunization. If the FDA publicized its findings on mercury and the government didn’t take action, “we would look pretty stupid or unconcerned,” Neal Halsey, who was at the time the chair of the American Academy of Pediatrics committee on infectious diseases, told me. Plus, thimerosal’s role in vaccines wasn’t technically essential: Its main use was to stave off harmful contamination in multidose vaccine vials, which clinicians repeatedly dip into; with some tinkering, many manufacturers would likely be able to sub in other preservatives, or switch to pricier single-dose containers.

So in 1999, the government and the AAP asked pharmaceutical companies to get rid of the thimerosal in their vaccines as quickly as they could—and advised health-care providers to delay giving the hepatitis B vaccine, which contained the compound, to low-risk newborns.

As it turned out, the compound never posed serious danger. The form of mercury in thimerosal is different from the one found in fish; scientists soon determined that it was excreted from the body faster—which meant that it didn’t pose equivalent risk. No major problems in childhood development could be linked to thimerosal-containing vaccines. At the time of the original decision, “if we’d had full knowledge, we wouldn’t have done it,” Orenstein told me. Thimerosal was, and is, safe.

But that wasn’t the message that anti-vaccine activists took away. Instead, they seized upon the government’s decision as an admission of guilt; multiple mercury-focused anti-vaccine activist groups sprang up. Some of them began to insist, without evidence, that thimerosal caused autism; among the most prominent advocates for that claim was Kennedy himself. The fervor around autism “caught us all by surprise,” Halsey told me. “That’s not what our concern was in 1999.”

And yet, those fears ballooned. In the mid-aughts, several states restricted thimerasol-containing vaccines for children and pregnant women. In some parts of the country, the misinformation yielded misguided treatments: In 2005, a family in Pennsylvania had their 5-year-old autistic son injected with a mercury-chelating chemical in hopes of curing his condition; less than an hour later, the boy died of a heart attack.

By 2001, thimerosal had been removed from most vaccines for Americans under 6. But the compound’s disappearance had costs. Multidose vials are an especially cheap, efficient way to package vaccines; blacklisting thimerosal made many shots more expensive, Paul Offit, a pediatrician at Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia, told me. The speed of the decision spurred confusion too. Shaken by the call to remove thimerosal, some hospitals stopped offering the hepatitis B vaccine to newborns entirely; shortly after, a Michigan baby on a delayed vaccination schedule, born to a mother infected with the virus, died.

Certain scientists, including Offit, still consider the removal of thimerosal a mistake, not least because it made vaccines appear more suspicious. In a press release at the time, the AAP noted that “the current levels of thimerosal will not hurt children, but reducing those levels will make safe vaccines even safer”—a statement that appeared to validate thimerosal’s dangers. In an attempt to preserve public trust, the government instead broke it, Offit said. “They were meeting the anti-vaccine activists halfway.”

Now ACIP seems poised to make a concession to those same anti-vaccine groups. “The fact that it’s come up again is reason for some people to say, ‘Well, there was an issue,’” Edwards told me.

In response to a request for comment, an HHS spokesperson said, “The new ACIP committee is committed to evidence-based medicine, gold-standard science, and common sense. Its recommendations will be grounded in data, not ideology or opinion.” The spokesperson did not address questions about thimerosal specifically or the evidence for once again bringing it under scrutiny.

But the experts I spoke with weren’t optimistic about the forthcoming discussion. In the past, any question the committee voted on was usually published weeks in advance, and subcommittees including ACIP members, CDC officials, and independent subject-matter experts vetted evidence and discussed policy options in advance of meetings, Grace Lee, a Stanford pediatrician who formerly chaired ACIP, told me. The new ACIP panel has had no time for that level of preparation. At least one new member, Vicky Pebsworth, has also argued that thimerosal-containing vaccines are dangerous for children and pregnant people in an article published by Children’s Health Defense.

The exact proposal that ACIP will vote on hasn’t yet been made public, either. But materials now posted to the CDC’s website hint at the question the group might consider. Redwood’s presentation, which was officially added to the agenda just a day before the start of the meeting, includes a series of slides that largely ignores the strong evidence supporting thimerosal-containing vaccines’ safety, misrepresents at least one study, and concludes that “removing a known neurotoxin from being injected into our most vulnerable populations is a good place to start with Making America Healthy Again.” In an unusual move, though, the materials pertaining to Redwood’s presentation also include a CDC report—titled “CDC background briefing material,” flanked with asterisks—that reiterates thimerosal’s safety, and the evidence that debunks a link to autism. (Redwood, Pebsworth, and the CDC did not respond to a request for comment.)

Even Senator Bill Cassidy—the chair of the Senate’s health committee, who helped secure Kennedy’s confirmation—seems to be having doubts about these developments. On Monday, he wrote on social media that the new ACIP lacked the expertise to make sound decisions about vaccines, and called for the meeting to be delayed “until the panel is fully staffed with more robust and balanced representation.” (A spokesperson for Cassidy did not respond to a request for comment.)

If ACIP does vote to remove recommendations for remaining thimerosal-containing vaccines, it could create practical problems, Halsey told me. Even though only a minority of flu vaccines would be affected, forcing manufacturers to alter their products on a tight timeline could make it harder to prepare for annual vaccination campaigns. Lower-resourced regions might also struggle to afford single-dose vials.

But the bigger issue with that decision would be this new committee’s brazen disregard for decades of evidence on thimerosal’s safety. The original discussion to remove thimerosal was contentious but understandable: a precaution taken in a vacuum of information. This time around, though, the experts have long had the knowledge they need—enough of it that there should be no discussion or vote at all.

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sskybooks · 2 months ago

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Hey there! My fic takes place during the actual original story, specifically during a period of 'lost time' the ever-unreliable narrator can't remember. How could I show that the character is slowly losing their mind, without falling into the stereotypical tropes of "seeing things, hearing voices," etc.

Hey sorry for answering so late. I meant to answer sooner however life and other crap got in the way. But here this is now. So yay.

Insanity is a blanket term for a bunch of disorders, like:

Schizophrenia,

Bipolar disorder,

Psychotic disorders,

and others....

So you could look up one of those, and base your character off of that if you wanted.

However, if you just want a general layout of Insanity, you have come to the right place. I DID RESEARCH and am fascinated by this topic.

I split it up into sections so it will be a lot easier to read. (Hopefully)

CAUSES

I know your character is in some sort of dimension, which could cause Insanity. But I wanted to be extra. Also, this is good for others if they want to know. All you really need to know is stress = Insanity. These are just some specific stressors:

Isolated — People need people. Without contact, people go crazy.

Exposure to toxins

Parental trauma

Trauma in general

Neglect

Abuse

No resources, and forced to survive

Substance abuse

Significant losses

Bonus points if you throw several of these at your protagonist — we want them to suffer.

EFFECTS

Think that people they once cared about could be trying to kill them

Dissociating

Memory gaps

Rituals or internal rules to “keep things safe”

Extreme mood swings

Inability to perceive changes in one’s feelings, behavior, or personality

Major changes in eating habits

Excessive fear or extreme feelings of guilt

Chronic sadness or irritability

Inability to cope with daily problems in a healthy manner

Frequent episodes of rage, panic, crying, or deep disappointment

Excessive hostility or violent impulses

Withdrawal from friends and activities that once brought them joy

Low energy or problems sleeping

Frequent, vague physical ailments with no obvious cause (headaches, stomach aches)

Eyes darting around; every loud noise alerts you

FEELINGS

They think everything is normal — they don’t know they have gone crazy.

Or:

Thought withdrawal: Belief your thoughts have been removed by an outside force.

Thought insertion: Belief alien thoughts have been placed in your mind.

Delusions of control: Belief that an outside force is manipulating your thoughts and actions.

Paranoia — this is actually a big one that a lot of insane people have.

Overly stimulated — everything is at top volume and could be a threat.

Feels like the world is unreal — everything is fake.

Obsessive thinking

normally over the thing they are paranoid about

Ruminating on a mistake or fear until it spirals.

Unsure of who they are

Feels separated from the world

Unusual, intense feelings or no feelings at all

Confused thinking

Problems with concentrating

They think they are fine — they don’t think they have changed.

DELUSION EXAMPLES

Kinds of delusions:

Persecutory Persecutory delusions (or paranoid delusions) involve the belief that a group or individual plans to act negatively against you, possibly through physical harm, harassment, or sabotage.

Referential When you believe that everyday people, places, events, and objects hold personal significance in your life despite no logical connection to you, it’s known as a referential delusion. Example: seeing someone eating ice cream and believing that situation was them sending a secret signal about circumstances that could impact your life.

Grandiose Grandiose delusions center on the belief that you’re exceptional compared to everyone else in abilities, wealth, or fame. Example: believing you have special powers or are an undiscovered talent.

Erotomanic Believing someone else is in love with you. Example: thinking a celebrity loves you even when you’ve never met or corresponded.

Nihilistic Nihilistic delusions involve thoughts related to non-existence, like believing a major catastrophe will occur or that humanity is already in the afterlife.

Somatic Somatic delusions involve a preoccupation with health and organ function. Example: attributing the typical sensation of hunger to progressive stomach cancer.

Bizarre Bizarre delusions include any false belief that is completely implausible, isn’t derived from ordinary life experiences, and isn’t seated in cultural practices. Example from DSM-5-TR: believing your internal organs have been removed by an outside force and replaced with someone else’s organs.

(Full text)

Some random delusions I found that people had:

Break a big picture window because they think the people inside were suffocating.

(Full text):

Nazis talking to you

Thinking you should throw away your CPU because people are about to frame you and put you in prison for life

People want to kill you

Everyone is talking about you all the time and planning something

You ask her if anyone is in her apartment before you come over and you ask if she's joking when she says "no?"

Thinking about ripping your teeth out with pliers

Looking at your hair and wanting to pour glue on it and cut it off with safety scissors

Nothing matters except completing the goal

"How do you get snakes out of your eyes?" "What?" "There's snakes in my eyes. How do I get rid of them?" (I can't really explain further than that.)

(Full text)

I felt like I was in a huge labyrinth with the Mad-Hatter. I couldn't escape no matter what I did. Everything looked the same and it only got worse. I was trying to solve a problem with no answer and make it better.

(Full text)

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accio-victuuri · 1 year ago

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of course there is a new jewelry to obsess about so i’m here! it’s been a while since i saw something new related to wyb cause it has always been 🦴 and the rest are his chanel stuff. and a bracelet??? a bracelet??? this is a first for me. so i’ve lightly discussed before what we think this is for. i don’t see any closet accounts confirming it yet so we may be wrong. we can’t see it clearly but if it is as significant as we think it is, then it will show up in the future.

i would imagine there are different meanings to giving someone with obsidian in them but cpfs are more on the positive meaning of it. leaning towards how it is given as protection.

1. Eliminate negative energy: Obsidian’s energy is strong and pure. It is absorbing energy. Wear an obsidian bracelet or pendants can effectively eliminate the harmful substances attached to the wearer's body.prevent interference from surrounding negative energy, and expel bad luck.

2. Remove disease: Obsidian is a naturally occurring black colored gemstone and also relatively absorbent crystal. lAfter wearing it on the body, it can effectively remove the toxins from the human body. The yin and yang energy of the human body reaches a balance, which is beneficial to the health of the human body and healthy development.

3. Restore physical strength: Obsidian can increase the life of the human body and strength, when worn regularly, it can help the human body recover. restores physical strength. it can also relieve the mental stress of the human body. it can also improve people’s sleep quality and have a positive impact on physical health.

4. Protect safety: Obsidian° is a very good body protection and talisman, because it is a spiritual object. Wear it close to your body for a long time, which can increase your own protection. The protection function can also effectively prevent the invasion of external evil spirits.

you get the point, it is for his protection. 🤍

CHROME HEARTS is not new to WYB. he wears a lot from the brand but really more on clothes but not accessories. I’ve seen some photos from before, xz was wearing a particular CH pendant multiple times but none after 2020. so maybe the choice of brand is he knew that WYB likes it and chose from there.

they are just too sweet 🍬🍭😭😭😭😭

-END.

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do

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darkmaga-returns · 6 months ago

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As undeniable evidence mounts that fluoride harms children’s brains, a historic ruling by a federal judge—and a report the government tried desperately to bury—may finally end the practice of adding this toxin to America’s drinking water.

For over two decades, scientists have warned about the harmful effects of fluoride exposure on the developing brain. Since 63% of the U.S. has fluoride in its drinking water, this is a critical issue affecting millions of Americans! Unfortunately, government agencies like CDC—along with the American Dental Association and the American Academy of Pediatrics—dismissed concerns and stubbornly continued to champion water fluoridation.

This all changed last month with a pivotal court ruling. But, first, some background: In 2016, the NIH’s National Toxicology Program (NTP) was charged with analyzing the large volume of studies on fluoride’s neurotoxicity. Shortly after, an advocacy group sued the EPA in a bid to force it to remove fluoride from drinking water. Knowing that a report from NTP was forthcoming, U.S. District Judge Edward Chen stayed the case until the report’s release. Little did he know how long he would have to wait.

Not only did it take NTP six years to complete the report, but when it was ready to publish in May 2022, officials at CDC and HHS betrayed their duty to the American people by trying to suppress the report! Ultimately, it took another year and a court order from Judge Chen for the report to be released. As HighWire viewers may have suspected, the report did not bode well for water fluoridation.

This September, with the NTP report finally in hand, Judge Chen made his historic ruling: “[T]he Court finds that fluoridation of water at 0.7 milligrams per liter (‘mg/L’) – the level presently considered ‘optimal’ in the United States – poses an unreasonable risk of reduced IQ in children.” He concluded:

[T]here is substantial and scientifically credible evidence establishing that fluoride poses a risk to human health; it is associated with a reduction in the IQ of children and is hazardous at dosages that are far too close to fluoride levels in the drinking water of the United States. And this risk is unreasonable under Amended TSCA.

The court then ordered the EPA to “to engage with a regulatory response,” but the even better news is that many townships aren’t waiting to protect their kids from this toxic exposure. Abilene (TX), Hillsboro (OR), Lebanon (OR), Yorktown (NY), and Winter Haven (FL) have already decided to end, or forego starting, fluoridation in the wake of the Court’s ruling, and many other communities, including Lyndon (WA), Monroe (WI), Naples (FL) and Tampa Bay (FL), are considering the same. Visit the Fluoride Action Network for materials you can use to demand action in your city.

Congratulations to the legal team, with a special kudos to current Siri & Glimstad partner Michael Connett who has focused on fighting the fluoride issue, and the plaintiffs, for this landmark win that will have a lasting impact on the health of all American children! For more details, watch The HighWire interview with Connett.

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thesilliestrovingalive · 25 days ago

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Updated: June 19, 2025

Reworked Character #26: Leona Heidern

POTENTIAL TRIGGER: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to death, physical assault, underage drinking, kidnapping, suicide.

Real name: Leona Schovajsová

Esper title: Avatar of Blood Frenzy, Slashing Motions, and Physical Adaptation

Aliases: Inherited Assassination and Silent Soldier

Occupation: General and frontline soldier of the Ikari Warriors

Retirement plans: She's uncertain about her aspirations beyond military work

Special skills: Proficiency in hand-to-hand combat and explosions, assassination techniques, acrobatic speed, martial arts, and slashing

Esper abilities: Her go-to esper ability is called the Moon Slasher. It involves swinging her rear arm, opposite arm or both arms in a circular motion. As she performs this action, a ring of blue cutting energy forms around her arm. This ability is incredibly powerful, capable of swiftly slicing through enemies and even armoured tanks.

She can create steel-hard blades by drawing her own blood through minor skin incisions. Occasionally, she must consume the blood of others to replenish the nutrients used up by her powers. She can project her thoughts and communicate mentally with anyone she visibly remembers or personally knows without any hindrance. Additionally, she has the ability to move small and medium-sized objects with her mind. However, using telekinesis requires her to take a short mental break afterward as it mentally drains her and causes temporary dizziness.

She's able to intentionally shed her skin, peeling it off like a removable garment. Following its removal, her skin rapidly regenerates through a self-materialising process, restoring her epidermal layer. This process enables Leona to eliminate any scars she has acquired as well as harmful organisms that may have attached to or burrowed into her skin. Shedding contaminated skin also enables her to regenerate healthy tissue and develop enhanced immunity and resistance to biological hazards, including toxins, bacteria, and other harmful substances. It's a fairly painful process, which she describes as being twice as painful as a snake shedding its skin or removing a dried acne face mask. It can take her up to 15 to 19 minutes to peel off her skin, followed by 3 minutes to regrow it, and an additional minute to recover from the pain.

She can shapeshift into a different person or entity if she has a clear image of her new form or can vividly recall the appearance of the person she wishes to become. Once she has made her decision, her physical body and clothes mold themselves to take on her chosen form. However, she can only remain in her transformed state for 15 minutes because her body begins to deteriorate during that time due to its sensitivity to drastic changes in appearance metamorphosis. This deterioration occurs only if she chooses a new form that she has never used before or has only used once. She can develop total immunity to transformative rot if she has used a physical form multiple times.

She can create a holographic afterimage by striking her enemies from behind at lightning speed, bathing the battlefield in a blue light. However, she can only leave behind three afterimages because her lightning-speed attacks demand a significant amount of physical energy, which quickly leaves her fatigued. These afterimages follow only Leona's commands and possess a wide range of electrical abilities, ranging from piercing bolts to shooting balls of electricity from their palms. They can be easily dispatched with just two or three knife strikes or a single well-placed bullet.

Due to her partial Super Devil ancestry, she possesses a unique physical and psychological esper ability known as the Riot of the Blood. When her Super Devil blood overpowers her human blood, it amplifies the destructive strength of her psionic energy in response to reminders of her past trauma or extremely stressful situations. During this transformation, her bloodstream feels as if it's on fire, and any exposed skin emits a smoky steam. She exhales thick plumes of smoke, and foamy saliva mixed with blood drips from her mouth. Her hair turns a dark pink with blood red streaks, her teeth become more jutting and carnivorous, and her eyes glow a pale yellow, devoid of irises and pupils. In addition to significantly enhancing her abilities, this transformation grants her nearly hyperspeed agility and increased physical brutality. She can also run on all fours like a cat to easily dodge mid-level projectiles.

Whenever she taps into this ability, a surge of power erupts around her, pushing anyone who's too close back by a couple of feet. In that moment, time freezes briefly around her. Once she's fully afflicted, she goes completely berserk, attacking anything perceived as a threat to her safety, including her friends. She enters a raw, animalistic mental state, capable of only uttering a few words. She'll only snap out of this state when she's knocked out, physically restrained and calmly spoken to or regains her senses after causing significant damage. Eventually, she learns to manually enter this state as she gains a deeper understanding of the Super Devil and how to control her power. This newfound ability helps her retain her sanity and humanity, reinforcing her control and allowing for better utilisation of the Riot of the Blood.

While in her Riot of the Blood state, she gains access to several abilities that are normally unavailable to her. Rebel Spark allows her to rush an enemy and stab them in the midsection, causing a surge of energy to erupt from their back before they explode as she screams in agony. Leona Blade enables her to create a blade of blue cutting energy from her right arm, which she uses to slash inward at her enemies, resulting in their explosion.

She can cut and pierce through both living creatures and war machines with her bare hands. Additionally, she can generate an invisible cutting aura by making a swift circular motion with her hands or by stomping the ground. This aura protects her from tangible projectiles and prevents others from easily restraining her, slicing into them like a thousand knife slashes. She can also create a ball of blue energy surrounded by several energy blades.

Hobbies: Visiting factories, collecting cute hairpins, hanging out with Roberto, watching cat videos with Marco, and doing research into cosmicism, militaristic practices, and old religions

Likes: Earth, real power, the philosophy to live, being in control of her abilities, and the Cat Ears outfit she secretly bought for herself after Conspiracy Landing

Dislikes: Super Devil, Being drenched in blood, meetings with no significance, people intent on causing destruction, and going berserk and hurting those she loves

Favourite food: Red globe grapes, vegetables, and strawberry sorbet

Sexuality: Heteroromantic demisexual

Gender: Demigirl

Age: 12 (in 2022), 18 (in 2028), 20 (in 2030), 22 (in 2032), 24 (in 2034), 31 (in 2041), 33 (in 2043), 34 (in 2044), and 37 (in 2047)

Blood type: B-

Weight: 146 lbs. (66 kg)

Design: She's a 5' 9" (175.26 cm) Spanish-Czech mesomorph with a bottom hourglass figure, a sylph-like build, a rectangular torso, broad shoulders, well-toned muscles, and a robust chest. She has sand-hued skin, sharp omnivorous teeth, and a brownish mole on the left side of her philtrum. She has blue-green eyes with flecks of dark violet and pale yellow feline pupils that glow in the dark. Her upper gums have holes above her two cuspids and two first bicuspids, allowing four razor-sharp fangs to slip out and protrude when she opens her mouth wide. Her muscles exhibit a sparkling malachite hue and bear an unusual degree of gnarly scarring. Her hairstyle is a combination of Leona's ponytail from Metal Slug Defense and her bangs from The King of Fighters: A New Beginning. Her hair is a vibrant Honolulu blue with a steel pink sheen, and she has the same torso tattoo as Orochi from KOF. Her right upper arm features a languid lavender skeletal snake with a pink luster outline that coils around the centre, its jawless head resting just above the elbow.

Leona's military gear consists of a metal dog tag necklace with her name, the same gloves as those worn by Leona from The King of Fighters XV, and greenish-black elbow pads. She wears a falu red belt featuring a black snap-on buckle, paired with a sheath for the Gerber Mark II fighting knife bequeathed to her by her foster father, as well as the same holsters as Leona from KOF XV. The right holster contains her Justitia .380 ACP handgun, while the left holds a Kahr P40. Additionally, she has a jasper waist pack secured at the back, which contains smoke bombs, extra pairs of explosive and flashbang earrings, and a few throwing hairpins. She wears a reddish-brown waterproof vest adorned with golden jackal fur lining and the Ikari Warriors logo emblazoned on the back. She has the exact same pants as Leona from KOF XV, tucked into her old heliotrope jungle boots.

She often wears the same jacket as Leona from The King of Fighters '96, but at times, she opts for a simple lavender pink tank top. She dons a leg holster like the one her KOF XIV counterpart uses, which holds two magazines for her handgun. She sometimes swaps her cargo pants for the shorts that Leona wears in KOF '96, along with greenish-black knee pads, revealing her over-the-calf yellow ochre socks.

Over her jacket or tank top, she dons a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) with a MultiCam pattern, which carries around her walkie-talkie and ammo for other firearms. Her neck and forearms are wrapped in pristine, slightly worn gauze, which is used to cover any self-inflicted cuts. She has a rust-coloured bandolier slung over her left shoulder, which holds .40 S&W Parabellum ammunition. Leona carries an old heliotrope load-bearing backpack that contains camping equipment, portable ammo boxes, a canteen full of water, smoke bombs, fire bombs, a black pen, and various books on ancient mythologies and military history.

It contains her journal, which has a worn mahogany leather cover and a dull, slightly tattered blue-violet ribbon marker. Inside, she records her thoughts on the people she has met and cares about as well as the vegetables she has eaten so far. It holds two precious photographs: the first, taken by Clark, resembles the artwork of a young Leona with her foster father, Heidern. The second features Leona, Ralf, and Clark, styled exactly like the Team Ikari screenshot from KOF '98, which was captured by Heidern after the Invader Conquest.

She wears Ralf's old cardinal red headband as a hairband, a reassuring gift she received after her first attempt to take her own life. She wears the same bra as Leona from KOF XV, but in yellow ochre with Syracuse red-orange edges. She wears two pairs of earrings with silvery or gilded clip-ons that she often alternates between: explosive earrings, which are pearlescent purple triangles with blue-tinted silver tips, and flashbang earrings, which feature dangling heart-shaped diamonds—the left is blue and the right is red. She wears three razor-sharp throwing hairpins that can easily pierce through skin. One is a metallic blue hairpin adorned with pinkish-white rhinestones, positioned vertically on the left side of her hairband. Another is a horizontal blood red hairpin located near the centre of her bangs on the left side, and the third is a slightly diagonal wavy greyish-purple hairpin placed above her right bang.

When off duty, she wears the same uniform as Steel Bodyguard Leona from Metal Slug Attack, but with a few differences. The silver buckle is blue-tinted, her tie is a bluish-purple with vertical bronze pinstripes, and her gloves are greenish-black. She completes the look with golden epaulettes and high-heeled, mid-calf ultramarine boots featuring carmine heels and bronze laces.

Super Devil form: She's a 31 ft (944.88 cm) chimeric entity with the shapeshifting upper body of Leona. However, her arms have been replaced with the forelegs of a black-furred lion, complete with golden claws and blue-green paw pads. Her skin is flayed, and the muscle beneath appears heavily burned and scarred, leaving only her head and breasts untouched. Her hair is a thick, tousled mane that cascades down to her hips. The base of her torso is adorned with a curly, encircling mane reminiscent of an African lion's. From this mane emerges a wreath of thirty-five coiling serpents, each adorned with glistening languid lavender scales, pink luster underbellies, and sparkling ruby eyes.

Her humanoid body is at the centre of a draconic beast with eight serpentine necks and iguana-like tails tipped with tufts of light blue fur. Each neck culminates in a leonine head featuring golden jackal fur, flared nostrils, swine tusks, and wide mouths filled with jutting, omnivorous teeth. Their bleeding upper gums bear the same gnarly holes and razor-sharp fangs as Leona's. They have well-groomed, slightly scruffy dark pink manes and goat-like beards, along with glowing blood red eyes featuring feline pupils and irises edged in pale yellow. Their lips are delicately lined with a Syracuse red-orange, and they possess forked tongues. Six greenish-black gills hang from the neck of each neck, which is somewhat located to their heads. She has six legs that are covered in neatly trimmed greyish-purple fur and hand-like feet with bronze eagle talons that are almost structured like a canine's paw.

The underbelly is jasper, while the carp scales are crafted from a carefully carved alternating pattern of blue and red diamonds that changes after every four bands of colour. These diamonds are translucent enough to reveal the same muscle anatomy as Leona. The back is adorned with moss, mahogany trees, and sprouting barrigonas. Two garguatuan wings, twice the size of her body, with yellow ochre feathers protrude from the central sides of her back. On the chest is the exact same torso tattoo as Orochi from KOF, but it lacks the neck band and is replaced by a single thick spike. Her stomach is cut wide open with thick, veiny vessels pumping blood and intestines partially hanging out. Bright flashes of blue and purple lightning can be seen within the stomach, emanating from dark clouds that slightly spill over from the gruesome wound, though never fully revealed.

Character summary: She's a reticent, vengeful, and overly careful individual who struggles to easily trust others and socially express herself outside of combat, military missions, and the company of those she feels safe with. Due to her past experiences, she often keeps her emotions tightly controlled and is hesitant to reveal her true abilities, fearing that losing control could result in her hurting her friends because of her untamed Super Devil blood. Leona resolves to take complete control of her Super Devil blood, using it only when the situation demands it. She often comes across as aloof and brooding to unfamiliar people and those she perceives as enemies. Many have referred to her as an "ice maiden" because of her taciturn and reserved demeanour as well as her indifference towards mercilessly killing her enemies. This label doesn't bother her; in fact, she accepts it with a sense of humble pride.

Leona carries out her orders with chilling accuracy and finds everyday socialisation to be challenging. She's incredibly pessimistic and cynical about the world around her, yet she tries to project a realistically optimistic outlook in calm, measured doses. Although she often feels lonely, she finds comfort in the new family she has discovered among the Ikari Warriors and the highly skilled members of the Regular Army. From Ralf, she has picked up on his mischievous streak and enjoys pulling harmless pranks and engaging in light-hearted teasing. However, she has also learned from him the importance of respecting boundaries, recognizing when something has gone too far, and apologising when necessary. She's fiercely protective of the people she truly cares about and holds anyone who tries to insult or hurt them accountable for their actions in a threatening and serious manner. Despite being somewhat awkward when trying to be supportive, Leona does her best to cheer them up and provide comfort when they need it.

She grapples with undiagnosed persistent depression and mild social anxiety. While she has made progress in managing her suicidal thoughts, there are rare moments when she feels overwhelmed by the urge to end her life. In those instances, she either talks herself out of the situation or is quickly intervened by Ralf and/or Clark. She continues to grapple with the immense guilt of unintentionally causing her family's deaths. Despite it being beyond her control at the time, as neither she nor her family knew she had dormant Super Devil blood, she firmly believes it was her fault for leading her murderous instigator into her village and not stopping herself before making the irrational decision that killed her parents. To cope with her guilt and misery, she sometimes engages in self-harm in secrecy.

She's a kind-hearted philosophical thinker, often contemplating the fundamental mysteries that evade human understanding when she's off duty and has nothing else to occupy her mind. She becomes quite upset when she learns that a close friend is struggling with suicidal ideation, which evokes a deep sense of sympathy and compassion in her. This motivates her to strive for self-improvement so that she can serve as a role model of sorts. She excels at commanding her foster father's mercenaries and is deeply committed to their well-being, viewing them as her responsibility. As a consummate soldier, she has garnered a loyal following among her subordinates. In combat, Leona's efficient approach to accomplishing missions is often described as "sublime" by many because she primarily annihilates her enemies with a hand dagger bequeathed to her by her foster father. She despises inefficiency, such as sloppy planning, and is cautious about forming alliances with enemies due to the potential for betrayal.

Like Red Eye, she often displays an unimaginable fearsome presence, the source and details of which remain maddeningly obscure. She has a habit of acting with childlike curiosity and is often happily excited to share new things with the people she considers family and friends. She always finds it heartwarming when people like Tarma proudly and passionately admire her as a kind soul and a great soldier, bringing her a sense of joy and calm. The majority of her limited off-time each year is spent in the unusual pursuit of "factory touring", which is rumoured to serve as a unique restorative for her vigour and energy. Whenever she’s off work, she enjoys excessive drinking, often participating in drinking contests with her friends and having a good time. However, she makes a conscious effort to avoid getting extremely drunk and strives to stay mostly sober. She often intentionally loses drinking contests because she fears she might become destructively wrathful when inebriated. When she's somewhat intoxicated, she tends to become oddly clingy around those she likes, shyly stammering and losing focus easily. She gets distracted by random conversations, sounds, and visuals that catch her interest, which makes her a bit nosy.

Leona feels uncomfortable knowing that the Rebel Army, Ptolemaic Army, and Amadeus Syndicate seek her for their own selfish gain, hoping to achieve their visions of the New World. Through fierce interrogations and intelligence gathered from Clark, she's aware that the Rebel Army wants to use her blood to create bioweapons and super soldiers, the Ptolemaic Army aims to use her as a vessel for the Avatar of Evil, and the Amadeus Syndicate intends to retrieve blood samples from her to study their destructive potential and how to effectively utilise them in combat. Even the leaders go so far as to instruct their troops to handle her with care and avoid causing her significant physical or mental harm.

She associates the Super Devil with great evil, which fuels her thirst for blood and her desire to inflict harm on others. Because of this hardened and stubborn perspective, she absolutely despises Wysteria, seeing her as an embodiment of wickedness. She believes Wysteria is a significant liability for the Regular Army, fearing that if she ever goes rogue, it could lead to catastrophic consequences. She often treated her with indifference, disdain, and mistrust, but she gradually warms up to Wysteria through the acts of kindness and generosity she offers. She eventually learns that she only wants to be accepted for her humanity and not be treated like a monstrous weapon, which makes her see a part of herself in Wysteria.

She observes that Eri fights in a unique way as if her comrades are nonexistent and she only trusts herself. This leads her to assume that Eri is somewhat like her, a notion Eri doesn't particularly like, even though she has reassured Leona that she'll never leave her side. She strives to treat her with empathy and kindness, but often falls silent and withdraws into herself out of guilt and shame in response to Eri's annoyed reactions. She sometimes trains with Trevor but often ends up accidentally hurting him, which prompts her to try training alone, despite Trevor reassuring her that it’s not her fault and that it’s not a big deal. She appreciates how supportive Tarma is, encouraging her to have fun and spend time with her comrades.

Leona developed a strong affinity for Clark and Ralf, viewing them as older brothers. She feels consistently reassured when partnering with them on dangerous missions as their watchful presence makes her feel safe. Meanwhile, she admires Heidern as an ideal military leader who understands how to meet the needs of his soldiers, ensuring their safety while helping them improve their skills through strict yet gentle discipline. She also sees him as a loving, compassionate father and is immensely grateful that he chose to take her in.

She's acquainted with Marco, Fio, and Red Eye, having undertaken a secret mission against a rogue Ptolemaic Army splinter cell alongside them and Clark, which forged a tight bond of camaraderie. Leona sometimes hangs out with Marco, Fio, and Red Eye, engaging in hobbies they enjoy and discussing various intellectual topics. This helps her broaden her knowledge about human enrichment and continue her journey of self-discovery. Mysteriously, she has also managed to befriend Ruoxi and her two alter egos. Rumours suggest that Ruoxi needed little convincing to like Leona because she immediately recognized her struggle with self-control and strongly related to it. Liddy found Leona's playfulness endearing and appreciated how she actively listened to her ramblings about birds and extraterrestrial life. Shufen developed a particular fondness for Leona due to her bravery and combat efficiency, which greatly reminded her of herself.

Since their accidental run-in during Conspiracy Landing, she has become a good companion to Roberto, proving herself to be an excellent friend and caring suitor. Although she appears to be best friends with him, she secretly harbours romantic feelings for him, which she's hesitant to reveal to others due to her fear of ridicule and the emotional turmoil it might cause. She struggles with the idea of being perceived as capable of romantic relationships due to her awkwardness in building connections and the fact that many people don't see her as the type who's interested in love. She believes it’s her fault that Roberto became traumatised after witnessing the Unknown Alien because he went a bit insane after seeing something he shouldn’t have when he looked into its eyes.

She does everything in her power to ensure Roberto's well-being, even if it means putting her own life on the line and risking her professional relationships. She enjoys playfully teasing him because she's very perceptive to his hidden romantic feelings for her and how adorably sheepish he becomes around others. Despite being an affectionate person around him, she expresses her tenderness in a much calmer manner than she does with Walter. Similar to her interactions with Ralf, Clark, and Heidern, she finds it easier to emotionally support him, especially during traumatic flashbacks or moments of self-doubt when he's on the verge of sabotaging himself. Through her interactions with Roberto, she has discovered that she's an emotionally intelligent person who's more expressive, respectful, and polite when around the people she cares about the most.

Backstory: Leona Schovajsová was born on January 10, 2010 in a secluded Ecuadorian village on the edge of the Amazon Rainforest. Her father, Gaidel, was the 12th generational chief of the unnamed village, where all members had biological ties to the Super Devil, making Leona the heiress to his title once he grew weak and old and could no longer carry out his chieftain duties. He came from a long lineage of Nina Runakuna tribal warriors and shamans, Spanish politicians and architects, and European historical archivists and nature experts who settled in the Ecuadorian and Bolivian regions. He was the Avatar of Earth's Will and Peaceful Stability as well as the last known male descendant of the Super Devil. Her mother, Hermína Schovajsová, was a Czech nature conservationist who studied the history and languages of Indigenous tribes. According to Leona, she resembles her mother closely, but with the strange genetic traits of her father mixed in.

Gaidel was originally the demigod son of one of the first human female espers and the Super Devil, who disguised himself as a human to leave behind his genetics as a blessing of a renowned legacy. The Super Devil even made him the only known esper with a genuine connection to the Earth, hoping he would be the one to restore equilibrium. However, he died under mysterious circumstances that he was unable to recall. After being gone for 1237 years, he was reincarnated in the present era as the newest chief of the unnamed village, but his reincarnation was interrupted halfway through due to an unknown cosmic disturbance, which he attributes to something bad happening to the Super Devil. As a result, he was unable to awaken to his true nature and lived quietly as an ordinary human. He wasn't oblivious to the existence of the Super Devil and understood that he was a menacing force of nature, so he took it upon himself to share his knowledge about the god with his close-knit community.

The chance meeting between Gaidel and Hermína was purely accidental. Hermína came across his village during a month-long expedition to study Ecuadorian Indigenous tribes living in the Amazon Rainforest. It was love at first sight, and Hermína moved into his village once her research was completed. After a couple of months of dating and familiarising her with the norms and customs of the unnamed village, Gaidel happily married Hermína. From this union, they started a family and had Leona, who inherited the true power of the Super Devil that had never awakened in Gaidel. Leona was born as a half-blood, which was considered a genetic mutation since Super Devil genetics largely overrode human DNA; however, hers was a perfect split between the two. As a result, many deem her an illegitimate descendant of the Super Devil.

During her time in the remote village, she lived a peaceful life with her small family, helping with simple tasks around the community and joyfully playing with the local children. She primarily spoke Czech but learned to fluently speak and understand Spanish. Gaidel taught her important leadership skills and shared his understanding of the earth and the Super Devil, making a firm promise to keep her newfound ancestral knowledge a secret from untrustworthy outsiders, fearing they might exploit it for their own selfish purposes. Meanwhile, Hermína taught her to be a brave, independent woman and shared her insights about animals and the Indigenous tribes she had studied around the world. Whenever she decided to explore the outskirts of the village, her father would either hold her back, warning her of the dangers of the outside world, or reluctantly allow her to go, with her mother tasked to closely supervise her.

During that time in her life, she was immensely happy, naively believing that nothing could go wrong. However, she began to feel suffocated by the sense that her desire to satisfy her curiosity was being hindered by her parents. After her 10th birthday, on a beautifully sunny morning, she decided to slip out of the village while her parents were still asleep. She wanted to venture deeper into the Amazon Rainforest and enjoy solitary exploration without being closely monitored. Having successfully exited the village unnoticed, she made her way through the jungle in search of the Amazon River. However, as she was distracted by a bird that flew past her, she accidentally bumped into a tall, burly man dressed in white robes, wearing a mask with red eyes and a gunmetal hood, who was carrying a bag filled with something.

She was immediately suspicious of the man because her parents had warned her not to trust strangers outside the village, especially those who looked strangely dressed or militaristic. However, the hooded man was surprisingly kind and politely asked if she was lost, which made her relax and led her to believe that this stranger might not be a bad person after all. Foolishly, she told him what she was doing, and he took her by the hand, leading her toward the Amazon River. Along the way, they talked, and the man learned a bit about her, including her name and her reasons for wanting to explore the Amazon Rainforest. Leona also discovered that the man's name was Goenitz, and he brushed off her question about what was in the bag, stating that it was full of garbage. When they arrived at the river, she accidentally mentioned her ties to the Super Devil. In response, Goenitz hid the bag behind a thicket of foliage and asked if she could talk to her parents, which she naively complied.

She guided Goenitz to her secluded village, much to the shock and fear of the villagers and her parents. While Hermína was busy ensuring Leona was okay and scolding her for leaving the village without warning, Goenitz had a private discussion with Gaidel. He demanded that Gaidel hand over Leona, promising to awaken the potential of the Super Devil spirit that lay within her and make her "worthy of the world beyond". Gaidel, believing Goenitz to be a simple-minded child predator, declared that he wouldn't betray the love he had for his wife and daughter, emphasising that they preferred peace over the violent tendencies of the Super Devil. He swiftly banished Goenitz from the village, threatening that if he ever returned or attempted to be near his daughter, he wouldn't see another day. As an enraged Goenitz was leaving, he caught Leona's concerned yet almost emotionless gaze before vanishing into the jungle.

Before the crack of dawn, she had a terrifying and deeply distressing dream about Goenitz, in which she was physically assaulted and transformed into a beast driven insane by power—an experience that felt all too real. This dream triggered the activation of her dormant esper abilities, awakening the suppressed Riot of the Blood and jolting her awake with the mindset of a berserker who craved blood. Unable to control the sudden surge of power, she went into a frenzy. In a fit of animalistic bloodlust, she slaughtered her parents with her own hands, only snapping out of it when she realised they were dead and she was covered in blood. Horrified, dazed, and shocked, she sealed away the terrible memory deep within her heart.

Before she could attempt to escape the village in search of refuge, a rogue militia launched a surprise attack, capturing many villagers and setting their homes ablaze. Leona was petrified but mustered the courage to flee the scene, even if it meant fighting her way through. She bolted out of her house as if her life depended on it. Just as she was about to escape the chaos between the militia and the newly arrived Ikari Warriors, a group of enemy soldiers nearby physically restrained her and dragged her into the depths of the Amazon Rainforest, away from the destruction. Once they claimed to have found the Super Devil child that Goenitz had told their superiors about, they were giddy at the thought of a cute girl being trained as a bioweapon. Leona flew into a rage but desperately tried to suppress her bloodthirsty urges. Wanting to provoke her, the soldiers ripped off her shirt and made lewd remarks, causing her to scream in fear before she transformed into a berserker state, awakening the Riot of the Blood within her.

She effortlessly dispatched the soldiers until the last one fell to her Moon Slasher, cutting him in half. As she regained her senses, she suddenly found herself face-to-face with Heidern, who had swiftly approached the source of the commotion, mistaking her for his deceased daughter. Terrified, she believed he was out to get her, but he managed to calm her down by expressing his good intentions and coaxing her to explain what had happened. Overwhelmed, she broke down in tears and revealed everything. Surprised by Leona's natural fighting ability and feeling deep sympathy for her loss, Heidern took her under his wing, ensuring her safety under his command. Ralf was initially skeptical about bringing her into the Ikari Warriors due to her young age, but he eventually accepted her as one of his comrades and quickly came to see her as a little sister.

Once she was taken in by the Ikari Warriors, Leona was amazed by the sense of camaraderie and respect that Heidern's troops emanated. It took her a couple of months to open up to the other Soldiers of Fortune, including their commander-in-chief and the two most well-known mercenaries, Ralf and Clark. However, she gradually grew to see them as a caring family and even considered Heidern a dependable father figure, feeling more inclined to show her vulnerable side and embrace the joys of childhood, despite struggling with her guilt and uncontrolled power. She expressed a desire to learn assassination skills, which Heidern hesitantly accepted.

Heidern, Ralf, and Clark were the main individuals overseeing her rigorous military upbringing. Clark took on a mentorship role, guiding Leona in mastering her esper abilities and harnessing the power of her Super Devil blood. Ralf further enhanced her training by instructing her in Super Vehicle operations and maneuverability. Additionally, he encouraged her to integrate explosive tactics into her combat style, an approach she effectively incorporated through her signature earring bombs. With their help, along with additional assistance from other mercenaries of the Ikari Warriors and by observing fighting tactics during their biennial tournaments, she grew into an exceptionally skilled soldier, proving her worth as the leader of the Ikari Warriors and a frontline troop. Recognizing her potential, Heidern promoted her to General, stating that she would be an extraordinary successor.

Shortly after the end of the Great Morden War, when Ralf successfully prevented the Rebel Army's invasion of the United States, rumours began to circulate that Leona and Heidern were the ones who approached the Regular Army with the intent of aiding their peacekeeping efforts. It has been suggested that the Ikari Warriors needed an influx of funds due to dwindling resources, and that their alliance with a global military could potentially help raise funding and support military development. However, none of these rumours have been confirmed by anyone within the Ikari Warriors. Leona has mentioned that the Regular Army was seeking to bolster its military strength after suffering significant losses to Morden's forces. After Ralf’s significant solo victory, despite not being legally old enough to drink, Leona secretly shared a couple of beers with him. During this time, she offered him emotional support, and they enjoyed sharing jokes and engaging in light-hearted conversation.

During a training session with Ralf and Clark, she overheard two mercenaries gossiping nearby that her father might be alive, which greatly infuriated her because she knew it was a lie. This inadvertently triggered the Riot of the Blood, causing her to go berserk and seriously injure Ralf and Clark. She only snapped out of it when the gossiping mercenaries physically intervened and she heard Heidern calling her name. Realising what she had done, she was mortified and suffered from emotional trauma, which she managed to hide from the others, not wanting to compromise her leadership and role as a soldier.

Since then, she has been busy assisting Clark and Ralf in successfully completing missions on the battlefield, but she began suffering from mysterious headaches and hallucinations. Leona unintentionally failed a stealth mission when a hallucination of Goenitz triggered her Riot of the Blood, compromising her team's position by recklessly attacking a group of cybernetic Syndicate troops and Martians operating in an Ajirabian town. This reckless action ruined two months of tactical planning aimed at infiltrating their base and stealing classified documents that the Regular Army high command had suggested after hearing rumours of a pillaging attack on Gerhardt City. Clark and Ralf took the blame for not stopping her in time because they were aware of her recent headaches and hallucinations but failed to act responsibly. Despite this, Leona knew it was her fault and that none of them could predict when the next episode would occur.

Ralf feigned professional incompetence for failing to save innocents in the war zone, while Clark pretended to be professionally inadequate for not gathering enough intelligence to better combat the threat. They requested a suspension from their duties; in reality, they were concerned about Leona's troubled state and wanted her to recuperate. Heidern agreed and also put the rest of their team off duty to recover after suffering a terrible loss. During their time off, Leona took martial arts courses, Clark participated in wrestling classes, and Ralf engaged in illegal fighting rings and street brawling to stay in shape. Clark and Ralf also used this time to help rehabilitate the despondent Leona by participating in the popular fighting tournaments held in Andrew Town. She eventually overcame her emotional shock and returned to military service, determined to embrace the flaws that the Super Devil blood had invoked.

One day, she was summoned to meet with high-ranking officials of the Regular Army, who assigned her a mission to rescue the U.S. President's daughter, Elise, kidnapped by Rebel Army troops as a form of twisted revenge. Although Clark and Ralf wanted to accompany Leona on the mission, she insisted that she could handle the objective alone, instructing them to look after the troops under her command while she was away. After receiving intel from Intelligence Agency agents about Elise's exact whereabouts, she was deployed to a jungle where a destroyed Tetsuyuki, overgrown with vegetation, served as a makeshift base. Eventually, she discovered Elise in an abandoned military camp, her corpse crudely tied in a crucified position on a barbed wire fence. Believing her mission to be a failure, she was consumed by vengeance and inadvertently awakened the Riot of the Blood, embarking on a murderous rampage through the jungle.

In her Super Devil form, which she had never transformed into before, she destroyed countless Rebel infantrymen, tanks, and aircraft before reaching the Tetsuyuki's location and obliterating it with ease. Just as she was about to continue her rampage, she managed to calm down and revert to her human form upon catching a glimpse of Roberto's horrified expression and hearing his pleas for mercy. After awkwardly reassuring Roberto that she wouldn't hurt him and introducing herself, they decided to team up. She assisted him in tracking down a jungle village that the Rebels had ruthlessly turned into a military base. The sight of the corpses of murdered villagers triggered unwanted memories in Leona, but she suppressed them. Together, Leona and Roberto dealt a significant blow to Morden's forces by exploding a warehouse full of equipment after destroying a Tani Oh stationed in the area, which Leona finished the tank off with her Moon Slasher. Throughout their mission together, they gradually grew closer as they shared stories and Leona taught Roberto new tactical skills in combat and planning.

After returning to rescue any hostages they might have missed, one of the agents revealed that they had overheard a group of Rebels discussing a fleshy bioweapon that they and the Amadeus Syndicate had excavated from ancient pyramids. They also disclosed that this potential bioweapon had been transported to another location at the request of the Amadeus Syndicate. Deciding that this would be their next mission, Margaret, Roberto's mission command, was informed of the situation, and they were deployed to Ajirabian desert in hopes of finding clues about the bioweapon's whereabouts.

They stormed the occupied pyramid in the Ajirabian desert, where Logan had trained bats to drop bombs on the Rebels' enemies. During the operation, they captured a shielded soldier who attempted to flee when they arrived in an SV-001. They aggressively interrogated her until she revealed the location of the bioweapon, stating that the Rebel Army and the Amadeus Syndicate had no idea what the strange monster was. She explained that they had seen a bright meteorite crash into the pyramids a few miles away from a village her team was pillaging for valuable resources and had gone to investigate. She also revealed that the entity was being referred to as the "Unknown Alien", and that her superiors intended to harness its power as a potential bioweapon. It had been relocated to a colder climate for protection and proper incubation. Once the interrogation was complete, they fought their way through the pyramid and exited just in time to face off against the Hi-Do with their partially damaged SV-001.

They were deployed in a snowy plain where heavily guarded ruins served as a base for Rebel infantrymen, Syndicate troops, and scientists. After successfully defeating The Keesi II MK-2, they entered through the sewer system of the makeshift base, shocked to discover a large horde of Mutated Soldiers being fed the corpses of traitors and slain hostages by Rebel troops. Once the Hozmi 2.0 was destroyed, they infiltrated the ruined base and located the Unknown Alien. Enemy soldiers and scientists were fleeing and screaming that it had gone berserk, while those who remained behind attempted to destroy it.

As Roberto rushed inside, Leona was bombarded by enemy reinforcements who intended to capture her and take her to see their superiors for reasons unknown to her at the time. She managed to manually activate the Riot of the Blood for the first time and swiftly dispatched the enemies before calming down and joining Roberto with the SV-001 in her possession. She noticed that he was paralysed with fear, shaking uncontrollably, somewhat hyperventilating, and crying blood. She quickly stepped in, blocking him from the Unknown Alien, and commanded him to get into the SV-001, which he did. Not much is known about what Leona witnessed when she stared into the Unknown Alien's eyes, but she has said that she was met with horrifying, desolate visions of the future that left her stunned with misery, shock, and shame.

However, Leona and Roberto pushed through and ultimately defeated the Unknown Alien, reducing it to a pile of mushy ash. Shortly after they arrived at the Joint Military Operations Headquarters, Leona reunited with Ralf, Clark, and Heidern, introducing them to Roberto. Suddenly, she lost consciousness from the immense exhaustion she felt after facing the Unknown Alien and the stress of the entire mission. She slept for several days, which worried Roberto, Heidern, and her teammates, who stayed by her side until she awakened. Comforted by their concern, she genuinely laughed and smiled brightly for the first time in a long while, but the misery caused by the Unknown Alien still lingered.

After that, she became obsessed with what had been revealed to her, feeling as though her mind was consumed by the maddening depths of the mysterious vision she had glimpsed. Believing herself to be a terrible liability and feeling that she had failed to protect Roberto, she attempted to take her own life after a successful mission with Ralf and Clark, during which they neutralised Rebel troops in the Italian forests and uncovered why the Rebel Army had attempted to capture her during the Conspiracy Landing. Fortunately, Ralf and Clark stopped her, encouraging her to continue living and assuring her that, even if she had no family, she was not alone anymore.

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