#and return from whence you came

[phoenixmetaphor]

resident evil cowboy au??? resident evil cowboy au!

or maybe more like ‘western au’ but whatever. someone mentioned the words ‘cowboy au’ within my circle and that was all it took, i was gone on another extreme au adventure. have brainrot, will travel.

bonus initial concept sketch below — leon is older in it than in the comic and has graduated to dual pistols. chris remains grizzled.

[skyedancer2006]

Brain: *latches on to Shadow Milk Cookie*

Us: This is such a fun character, there’s definitely no deeper reason for us to like him so much!

Also Us: Knows what it’s like only being valued for your knowledge and what you can do for other people, and having others abandon you when you can’t do anything for them anymore or they just get bored of you, so you start pushing everyone away and self isolating so you can’t be hurt again

[rustystars]

just finished a book so bad i had to open goodreads just to rant about it oh my god

[santocachon]

Playing Baldur’s Gate 3 with my besties and then THIS abomination shows up after meeting up with Shadowheart on the beach.

IT IS SO CREEPY. I CANNOT look away but it feels like she’s always watching. T posing in the corner or just being fucking CREEPY.

[morganmnemonic]

[eggscaffolding]

Humans aren’t supposed to be that high up, crawl into the ground like nature intended

[garvielloken1900]

To the rich people who bought the newly built house behind mine, stop looking at my pickle through my bathroom window you fuckin pervert

[jesterjamz]

can i help you?

see now THIS is how you do an introductory google form

[anxiously-sidequesting]

Am I allowed to uno reverse them? Can I steal the artifacts they stole and not give them back?

I prefer eating mice to dogs though... dw I'll find one in Khrysalis or smth

🐈‍⬛

(gets a rolled up newspaper and waves it threateningly) GIVE THE ARTIFACTS BACK TO WHERE THEY BELONG AND DO NOT EAT THE MICE

[patricia-the-autism-apprentice]

how I feel when I send vaguely threatening messages to strangers on tumblr

[disgruntled-lifeform]

Oh wow, this is so neat!

Thank you for the insight and I can't wait to see it completed ^_^

Ok ok I've started the bog coat 😔

[hanafubukki]

The Legend of the Prefect of NRC

Legend has it there was once a Prefect at NRC.

The Prefect appeared one day with chaos at their heels.

Not much is known about them as an individual, but they are known for their achievements.

They stopped great calamities that befell the Island of Sage.

At times, even stopped Twisted Wonderland from unraveling.

Not much is known about what happened to them.

Some say they returned from whence they came.

Some say they chose to stay.

Some say they even found romance or traveled the world.

But there is one aspect everyone agrees on.

They were cherished by all who knew them.

And they, in return, loved them just as much.

It is no wonder the Great Seven became the Great Eight in homage to the Prefect and those who lived in Ramshackle Dorm.

A statue of three ghosts, a chimera, and a hooded figure made of marble commemorates the newly established dorm at the Main Street of NRC.

Now you may wonder, what does this dorm represent?

It is based on the spirit of the Prefect of Legend, the one known to tame even the mightiest.

The Ramshackle Dorm is for those who do not belong. Those who have the potential for greatness beyond any normal means.

Now take the hand before you, for you have been chosen.

The Ramshackle Dorm welcomes you.

[quarterlifekitty]

if devils were real (they'd be in the military)

john price/succubus!reader a little bit of a backstory as I try to expand this post into a little series part 2

There are two ideal victims for a succubus: virgins and divorcees. John is one of the latter, and ideal for many other reasons besides. He's married to his career— his extensive time away makes it difficult to maintain relationships. Impractical, he says.

The best part of all? He's an honorable man. Which is just another way to say that he's been fighting his temptations and human nature longer and harder than he should. The unused sexual energy comes off of him in staggering waves, as a result. It's imbued in everything he does. You could probably live off of shaking his hand if you really had to.

All in all, you're happy you found him. He's a quality meal ticket. Not an ideal career— he could expire at a moment's notice, but that's often the tradeoff when it comes it nutrition for your kind.

Price is a bit of an odd last name, isn't it? They say a lot of last names in Europe just go back to the vocation of your ancestors— Smith, Tailor, Cooper. But what could Price be?

John didn't know the real answer to that, but his grandmother told him (very much against his mother's wishes) that it refered to the price of a soul when someone made a deal with a demon. That her own great-great-great grandfather fell in love with a devil, and she fell in return, and had a great big family— thirteen kids of their own. Just after he was put to bed, he'd hear his mum scolding her for telling him tales like that, but the damage was done. And she kept telling more and more— about demons, devils, the circles in the kingdoms of hell, the Malebranche keeping corrupt politicians under boiling pitch, the ukoback's fried foods and fireworks, that the thunder he heard during storms was the booming voice of Duke Amdusias—

And the conniving, pitiable succubi and incubi. Lesser demons that could visit him in his dreams as his greatest desire, all to steal his energy— his lifeforce.

His mother was especially irate after that particular tale.

From the first moment smelled your pheromones drifting into the air, he knew what you were. He knew that you would take what you wanted, and he would remember this as only a sensual dream after you flew back into the night from whence you came. And he let you. Welcomed it, in fact. Reveled in your scent building in the air as you practiced your craft, bringing him to climax again and again.

You yourself did some rather masterful acting, but he could tell you never came. Never mix work and pleasure, right? You wouldn't want to look unkempt, or god forbid, vulnerable while you extracted your meal from him.

Don't worry, darl', he thinks to himself, I'm keeping track.

[pinklocksoflove]

From whence you came you shall return!

[comatosebunny09]

Dragging yourself back to the mansion after a grueling deal—an ambush. Twin assassins sent to take you out. Word travels fast in the underworld that you’re Sylus’ point man (woman?) and that you’ve been bumping off opposing faction heads in his stead.

They did a number on you. You’re a little worse for wear. A little rough around the edges. Nothing some antiseptic and a glass of something acrid can’t fix. The retina and fingerprint scanners grant you entry. It’s achingly bright inside. Serene, with classical music reverberating off the walls and the scent of polished floors assaulting your senses.

You’re clutching your side. Slightly limping. Squinting. Breathing through parted lips. You’re tired. You ache, but you’ve gotta brief bossman on how the “negotiation” went. You killed everyone there. One less group of baddies stalking around, challenging Onychinus’ name.

You near his study. Press your hand against the heavy oakwood door, preparing to shove inside. Two voices emerge from behind the wood’s barrier, one high and light, the other deep and abrasive. There’s humor there. Laughter. Fondness muffled by the door. You don’t have to do much guesswork—one voice belongs to Ms. Hunter, whilst the other is Sylus.

You lower your head, studying the floor with a half-hearted scowl. You don’t want to interrupt. Not when they sound all cozy inside. Something in your stomach pulls, chest tightening. You’ll update him later when he’s not preoccupied. In the meantime, you tow yourself back from whence you came. You can barely keep your eyes open, breaths labored.

One of the assassins nicked you good with a knife. It stings, your blood pasting your blouse to your split skin. You collapse onto a leather sofa in a dark room, your only light source pouring in from the hallway. You just want to rest up a bit. Maybe a little catnap to get your head back on straight before treating your injuries.

Darkness sweeps in like a vignette around the outskirts of your vision. You stare blankly at the marbled hallway floors before exhaustion takes over, robbing you of consciousness.

You awaken bleary-eyed sometime later. Colors and shapes bleed in, making way for coherency. You sit up on something silk-soft and pillowy. You’re no longer in the room you blacked out in. In fact, you’re in a bed, onyx sheets puddling around your waist.

Your head’s throbbing. Side’s smarting. You remember you were a little banged up when you returned home. You lift your shirt in alarm to observe your injury, but it’s been painstakingly dressed with gauze. You touch your temple—there’s a dressing there, too, covering the cut you acquired from head-butting some ornery henchman.

Further ingesting your surroundings, it’s with a frozen heart you realize you’re not in any of the guest rooms around the mansion. You’re in Sylus’ room. You’re in his bed, surrounded by his things. Did he find you when you’d slipped beneath the heavy veil of unconsciousness? Personally clean you up and dress your wounds? Change you?

You shake your head against the rush of questions, brain pounding in protest. You don’t want to think right now. He confuses you to no end. He’s kept you at what feels like arm’s length since the hunter emerged in his life. Still, there are days when he’s a reflection of his old self, fretting over your wellbeing, blurring the line between boss and subordinate.

Whatever.

You fall back into the sheets, taking in their comforting scent. You should leave, but you haven’t the strength to. He can bitch at you later. You turn away from the door and fall back asleep, unaware of it cautiously opening, a set of scarlet eyes warily observing you from behind the partition.

[genshin-impact-updates]

Fulfiller of Commissions, Flame Bearer of the Canopy

"This servant of mine is no fool, and nimble too, as far as servants go. His biggest fault is that, no matter how hard you try, you simply can't get rid of him! I mean it — he literally will not die! Have you ever heard of someone falling headfirst off a cliff and still surviving!? Utterly infuriating!"

— K'uhul Ajaw, the self-proclaimed "Almighty Dragonlord"

◆ Name: Kinich

◆ Title: Turnfire Hunt

◆ Huitztlan Saurian Hunter

◆ Vision: Dendro

◆ Constellation: Chimaera Alebriius

"It's one thing to charge a fee for delivering a letter, but charging for being a flame bearer on Turnfire Night? It's outrageous! Is this really a hero of ours?"

"It's not like you just met him today. Surely you'd admit that he does his job well? That's all that matters."

In Natlan, where humans and Saurians live together in harmony, there have always been some who have looked askance at saurian hunters. In a land full of heroes, their practice of assessing commissions and setting a price makes the profession even more controversial.

A cruel, ruthless, cold-blooded killer... Pragmatic, utilitarian, without so much as a hint of chivalrous decorum... In such heartless, damning terms do people describe the young man that never argues back.

But what of it?

As long as the price is right, all commissions shall be fulfilled in a satisfactory manner; all writhing, raging aberrants returned to the Night Kingdom from whence they came.

Once the bearer of the Turnfire name has locked onto a target, there's no looking back.