#dirty south lore

[dirtysouthlore]

Will there be more of Tros as a young man?

probably! I’d like to do something where I fleshed out his younger years, his time meeting his wife (who still needs to be designed), their home together and whatnot. I imagine he had his first kid in his 20s, Rufus I think maybe came first? Ganymede second. I’m still undecided if he has any other kids yet! 

Would also really like to do some stuff of his time in the military.

[fadingdaggerr]

would that i

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: melissa knew what love should look like, and learned what it shouldn’t be. learning what it actually is takes time | 3.4k

translations: nonna/nonno (grandma/grandpa), t’amu (i love you) | reminder that sicilian is slightly different from italian in dialect

warnings: allusions to cheating (minimal), allusions to unhealthy relationships (minimal), making up my own melissa lore bc i’m so normal about her, kissing/making out

note: a little bit of this was an homage to my grandparents, the people that showed me what love should be. thank u and love u

When Melissa was in sixth grade, her teacher assigned a two-page essay on what they thought of when they pictured love. The moment Mrs. Erikson said this, Melissa knew she was going to write about her Nonna and Nonno.

Every morning, Nonna made breakfast and coffee, she packed Nonno’s lunch, and always left a note that said T’amu in her flowy cursive. Every evening, Nonno brought in the laundry off the line and folded it while Nonna made dinner. Even when they fought, there was never a loss of their kiss good morning, goodbye, and good night. Only on anniversaries was Nonno allowed in the kitchen, and they’d dance while sauce simmered on the stovetop. Love between them seemed easy and gentle. Melissa spent every Saturday night and Sunday morning across the street at their house, and every time she found something to add to her list of what love looked like and how it should be.

Melissa thought she had found love with Tommy Adkins in eighth grade. She’d even bought a new dress to wear to autumn formal, pink and ruffled and perfect. By the time she was ready to leave, her face almost hurt from the amount of times she redid her makeup so that Tommy would call her beautiful instead of bangin’ for once. That night she watched him dance with Jennifer Milano with a half-baked excuse of him “not wanting to kiss a chick with braces.” Melissa cried for two hours while Nonna told her she was better off, a bowl of pastina pushed her way. She forgot about him by the time Monday rolled around.

High school boyfriends came and went, but in college Melissa fell in love for the first time. A true, deep love with a firefighter-in-training that knew her neighbor. Everytime Joe visited Brian, he stopped across the hall to see Melissa, leaned against the doorway with an easy smile. He was charming, respectful, and funny, everything she had been looking for. Two months after she graduated, he dropped to one knee and she jumped into his arms. They moved from their apartment to a home in south Philly. Melissa worked during the day, and Joe started night shifts at the fire station for the extra pay.

Night shifts began to extend, and Melissa never saw him. He’d eat the plate she’d prepared in the fridge and leave the dirty dish on the counter. Dirt and ash from his boots tracked across her rugs and carpets, scuff marks in her living room. What almost killed her was the dirty cast iron skillet left in the sink. When she brought anything up, he’d deflect and leave. Every now and then, he came home with flowers “just because.” But then flowers began to follow every extra long night, and she could smell the floral perfume that didn’t belong to her and didn’t match the flowers. It took her months to say anything, and all she was met with was eyes that couldn’t look at hers.

Melissa began to think that what her grandparents had could never be hers. A loving life was in the cards, and Joe had only solidified this. She stayed at Barbara’s that night.

—

A few years later, her perspective was changed when a new fourth grade teacher joined the staff mid-term. Never in her years had she allowed someone in so easily, allowed them to be her friend and not just a coworker. Somehow, in two years, Melissa realized she’d never felt so cared for and loved by anyone.

—

“Is there a chance I could pour a cup of coffee before you start bursting my ear drums?” Melissa says when Jacob and Janine start babbling behind her about something she didn’t care about at 7:30 on a Friday morning. Ever since she turned onto the street the school is on, a headache had been growing steadily. Staying up late to finish grading was the worst idea she’s had all month. The two teachers cringe slightly, lowering their volume. When the door opened again for you and Barbara to enter chatting with each other, volume lowering at the sight of Melissa sat at the table with fingers pressed to her temples. She hears a bag drop on the table quietly, opening one eye to see you trying to be as quiet as possible as you dig around.

When you finally stop, you pull out a bottle of ibuprofen and pass it to her. She waves it off, muttering a don’t need it. When you don’t reply, she peers up to see you still holding the bottle out with an expectant look on your face. You shake the bottle, “don’t suffer just to look tough.”

“Melissa Ann, take the damn pills,” Barbara orders from her seat, spooning some sugar into her coffee.

“I don’t need ‘em,” she mumbles out again.

You push your hand forward more, “please. If not for yourself, for your students. You’re irritable when you have a headache.” Barbara chuckles and sends a knowing look to Melissa. Janine and Jacob, on the other hand, turn and look at you, fully expecting the red head to make some harsh reply or threat back to you. All she does is puff out a laugh and grab the bottle from your hands. She decided not to remark on the weird looks she was getting from the peanut gallery.

When getting the kids ready for recess, she sees you peering around the corner to the doorway. She holds a finger to ask you to wait, and gets a double thumbs up in return. After zipping many jackets and helping with gloves, she watches the little eagles run outside in the chilly autumn air. As she walks back into her classroom, she sees you sitting in her chair waiting patiently for her. “You know, I don’t let anyone sit in my seat,” she jokes as approaches.

“Good thing I’m not just anyone, now am I?” you joke, standing to meet her.

She fights her smile as she answers quietly, “no, you’re not.” She takes a second to breathe when she sees a grin cross your lips at her comment, “we still on for dinner at mine tonight?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” the grin on your face growing, the giddy feeling in Melissa’s chest with it. You loop your arm with hers and walk towards the lounge.

When Melissa opens the front door, you expect a greeting, but instead you get a groan as she stomps back to the kitchen. Dropping your bag and shrugging off your coat, you walk into the kitchen, placing the box of pastries on the table. Melissa returns to angrily rummaging through the refrigerator, desperately trying to find something. It wasn’t until two hands pulled her back by the shoulders, turning her around. She relaxes into your touch, closing her eyes.

“I’m out of basil,” she says through a sigh.

“Want me to go to the store?” you ask, wanting to remove any stress from her.

“No,” Melissa answers as she opens her eyes, “you just got here, that wouldn’t be fair.”

You laugh, “we could go together. Or we can just be lazy, order a pizza, and not get off the couch.”

“Second one,” she sighs out, pulling away to clean up the dishes she took out. While she’s distracted, you take the time to call in the order, pay, and tip over the phone so that Melissa won’t even have the chance to say herself.

“If there’s pineapple on there, I’m kicking you out,” she yells from the kitchen after she hears you hang up.

“No, veggie. And yes, I asked for no mushrooms. One of these days though, I’ll convert you to being a pineapple woman,” you joke tilting your head back to see her standing behind you, “plus, you wouldn’t dare kick out the person who brought you zeppole.”

She gets closer, leaning over with her hands holding the backrest on either side of your head, “is there chocolate sauce?” The excitement was evident in her tone, bringing butterflies to your stomach. You can’t form words with her standing over you and smiling like that, so you just nod.

Later into the night, the TV played Weeds while you sat in comfortable silence, only breaking it when you both repeated the same joke out loud every now and then. Your legs were thrown over her lap, her fingers playing with the folding fabric of your jeans as she watched the screen. Her subconscious drew her attention toward you, eyes tracing over smile lines and the glowing reflection in your eyes from the TV. She watches you lean forward to grab a zeppole, ready to offer it to her. It’s only then that you catch her stare.

“You okay?” you ask, turning and scooting closer to give her your full attention.

She gives a quick squeeze to your leg, “yeah, hon. I’m better than okay.” She feels even better when you lean into her, placing your head on her shoulder. She drops her head to yours, a deep breath leaving her as she finally relaxes fully for the first time all day.

—

Some time between then and now, things had changed, Melissa wasn’t exactly sure when. At some point the Friday dinners turned into Saturday plans, then Sunday since the farmer’s market was open, no other reason. Breakfast on those days translated to bringing coffee to each other at work, ignoring the questioning gazes of other staff members as she passed you your coffee, despite having never asked how you took it. What had started with you sleeping on the couch when the night grew later, migrated to the spare bedroom.

On a Sunday night, it changed again. You watched the tail end of an Eagles’ game while sitting in her bed after helping grade book reports. As always, your head rested on her shoulder with her own resting on yours. Anytime something that wasn’t a point being scored happened, she explained it to you, though she knew not a thing she said would help make sense of it. It didn’t matter to you, all you wanted was to hear her voice and have her attention.

“Your bed is comfy,” you mutter when the commercials begin before the last quarter.

A smile crosses her lips, “treated myself to a good mattress when I kicked bozo out. Glad you approve.”

“You deserve nice things,” you say as you settle into her more, and through a yawn add, “the best things.”

That night, you’d both fallen asleep slumped against the headboard, leaning into each other for comfort.

Melissa woke up to a rhythmic thumping under her ear and a hand in her hair gently playing with amber waves. The small smile that came to her lips would have been foreign to her if she wasn’t so comfortable, the content feeling in her chest would be almost alarming. When her eyes cracked open, she recognized her bedroom and sheets. She groaned into the cold morning air, and the hand moved from twirling the ends of her hair to scratching her scalp, making her tuck into the warmth beneath her even more.

“Good morning,” you rasp out, having only been awake a little longer, the only response being another groan. She finally rolls off of you, much to your dismay, and sits up on her elbows, looking at you with sleepy, squinted eyes.

“It’s Monday,” she grumbles.

You chuckle, grabbing her glasses off the nightstand for her, “fine, just morning then.”

Something about this morning felt different to Melissa. You’d never spent the night on a school night, let alone sleep in her bed, but that wasn’t what shook her. It wasn’t you making her coffee, sipping it to make sure it tasted right before handing it to her. It also wasn’t that you turned off her alarm and woke her up yourself without making her ears bleed. She thought it could be that you’d opened the door for her on the way out, or how you offered to drive her to and from work to make up for staying late, but not that either.

Maybe it was how she didn’t want to get out of bed, or how her coffee tasted better than any time she’d made it herself. Or how she hadn’t slept that peacefully in twenty years. It could have been how much she enjoyed being driven to work, and having full control of the songs you listened to on the way there, or the fact that she sped ahead to open a door for you this time. She doesn't have time to dwell on it once she gets to her classroom, a knock on the doorframe comes the second to place her purse on the desk.

“I thought you weren’t in today, I didn’t see your car in the parking lot,” Barbara says as she walks in.

Without looking up from her bag as she pulls out folders, Melissa answers, “I got a ride in.”

“Did you now?” Barbara asks with an amused tone. “And would that someone happen to be the fourth grade teacher that practically lives with you?”

“We don’t live together,” Melissa says incredulously, “we just fell asleep, so we drove in together. It’s not a big deal, it’s not like we’re actually together.”

Barbara can’t hide her laugh, “you fell asleep? Both of you? And where was that?” Melissa only mumbles back, so Barbara presses, “where did you both sleep, Melissa?”

“My bed,” Melissa finally says a little louder, but not much. She wants to send her head through a wall knowing that Barb just figured her out.

“Oh, girl. You are in deep,” Barbara says with a smirk. After she leaves the room, the spiral in Melissa’s head goes faster.

Said spiral carries her through lunch, and only stops when you sit across from her and stare at her for a moment. Her face contorts in a what? look before you reach across the table and brush your fingers through her hair. When you pull back, there’s a purple string from the third graders’ projects between your fingers. Barbara kicks her from under the table, and she kicks back with equal force. They both see you look at them weird, before brushing it off and going back to getting your lunch out. Barbara cocks her head to you, staring at the red head, silently telling her to do something. The look the kindergarten teacher gets back replies not now.

When the end of the day rolls around, Melissa is anxious for your eventual arrival in her doorway, keys swinging around your pointer finger. All she could think about since you parted ways this morning was your hands in her hair and your heartbeat under her ear. She hadn’t felt so content and so at peace in so long, the feeling was so new that it almost scared her. Melissa had to remind herself that this was about you, not anyone else. You’d never hurt, belittled, or offended Melissa, you’d never made it your mission to anger or disregard her, nor had you ever tried putting yourself before her. She knew that feeling this way about you shouldn’t scare her, but it did.

The sound of keys and footsteps in the hallways alerted her to your approaching presence, making Melissa quickly rise to her feet and grab her things, realizing she’d been spaced out since the last student left. As she predicted, you stood there spinning your keys, smile growing when she turned toward you. It drops slightly when you see her smile not reach her eyes. “Ready?” you ask.

“Sure, yeah,” she clears her throat, “let’s go.”

You can tell her mind is running into overdrive as you pull onto her street. When you park in the driveway, you unbuckle to turn in your seat and face her.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

She turns to you with a scrunched face, “what are you, 90?”

You shrug and point to her sleeves, “you’re thinking. You play with the thumb holes when you think.” She’d curse you for noticing if it didn’t make her heart clench. “You don’t have to tell me,” you add, “but I’ll listen, if you want.”

She looks at you for a moment, surrendering with a, “wanna come in?” You only answer by taking your keys out of the transmission, hopping out, and opening the door for her.

The discussion gets put on hold while Melissa heats up leftovers from the night before. She carries both bowls out to the living room where you’re turning on the TV back on for background noise. As Melissa sits down, she faces toward you and you mirror her pose. “Sorry I was acting weird,” she mumbles before taking a bite.

You shake your head, “you’re only allowed to apologize when you’ve done something wrong. Thinking isn’t doing something wrong.” When she doesn’t speak again, you offer up something else, “Ava almost had a heart attack over you this morning.”

She looks at you confused, “were we wearing the same shade of green again?”

“No. She thought you didn’t come to work this morning cause your car wasn’t there, was going off about how she was going to have to sub because there’s still a shortage in the area,” you laugh, “I had to tell her I drove you in, which also ended me in a twenty minute interrogation during my prep period.”

“What sort of interrogation?” she asked, already nervous.

You look down the bowl in your lap as you speak, poking the food around, “the kind where she asks for a detailed account of my whole weekend. Weird amounts of detail too, mealtimes, where I slept, where we went, what shows we watched.”

“What’d you tell her?” Melissa can feel fear creeping into her bones.

“That we went to the farmer’s market, watched sitcoms, and I slept in the guest room,” you answer truthfully, “and what did you say to Barbara?” Her head snaps to you, you lean your head to the side, “she stopped by to ask me about my weekend, she seemed a little too excited to see me if you hadn’t spoken to her first.”

Melissa moves to place her bowl on the coffee table before looking back to you, “she asked why we drove in together. I said we fell asleep, and she asked where we fell asleep. Might’ve told her you slept in my bed.”

“It’s impossible to lie to her,” you say as you copy her move. You’re silent for a moment, then finally ask, “what were you thinking about?”

She takes in a deep breath and exhales to calm her nerves, “this morning. This whole weekend, but mostly this morning.” She glances up, and sees your face had dropped, worry setting in, and she’s quick to revise her statement, “in a good way. This morning, this weekend, they meant a lot to me.”

At her words, your lips stretch into a smile, “it meant a lot to me, too.” She can see you internally question saying the next part, “and you. you mean a lot to me, a crazy amount.”

It’s her turn to smile like an idiot now, a pretty blush covering her cheeks, “you mean a crazy amount to me, too. Being around you it’s... It’s easy. I like being with you.”

“I do, too. Sometimes, when I’m here I almost forget I live somewhere else. The second I step inside and I’m with you, I don’t know, leaving just feels wrong,” you say honestly, eyes flickering over her face as you speak, scanning for a rejection you won’t find.

“Waking up to you was nice,” Melissa mumbles, “you’re a pretty good pillow, if I do say so myself.”

Your airy laugh makes her heart race, it goes even faster when you lean in to reply, “I wouldn’t mind waking up that way again... and again, and again.”

She matches you lean in, smiling, “yeah?” Your noses are almost touching, she can feel your breath just barely touching her face. Her eyes flick to yours and see you looking back, faint lines forming as your lips turned upward as her gaze.

“Being with you makes sense,” you say quietly into the space between you, eyes flicking to her lips then back up.

Her hand moves up to your cheek, warm hands and cool rings holding with gentle affection. Olive eyes look into yours for permission, but your answer is closing the space between you. Her other hand flies to hold your neck, your hands holding her wrists. They slide from her arms to her waist, pulling her closer and crawling beneath her shirt to rest on her skin. She takes the chance to straddle your lap as her tongue slides over your bottom lip, asking for the instantly granted entry. Her lips were soft, savoring the feeling of yours against hers, committing it to memory.

Your arms tighten around her, holding her as if she’s this precious thing, and it makes her only give more into you. Her lips slow, and you can almost feel the love she’s trying to convey in her action. But your lungs can only survive so long, and she pulls her lips away, resting her forehead against yours.

“Stay?” she whispers through her breaths as she recovers.

“Wasn’t planning on leaving,” you mumble back, dazed from her kiss. You duck foreward, hugging her as she still sits in your lap. Her arms circle your shoulders, hearing you mumble into her neck, “I love you.”

She presses a kiss to your head, “I love you.”

Melissa’s heart beat against your ear, calm and steady. The smell of her perfume and honey shampoo flooded your senses, making you nudge into her further. You tilted your head, lips pressing softly to the skin of her neck, moving upwards back to her lips, pressing a long, sound kiss there. You pull away to look at her, smoothing back copper strands.

“Is it too early to go lay in bed for the rest of the night?” you ask quietly.

She huffs a laugh, “I was gonna suggest the same thing.”

By the fifth episode of Weeds, Melissa noticed your breathing even out. She peered down at you where you lay curled into her side with your head on her chest, arm slung over her middle, lips slightly parted. She presses a kiss to your head as she shuts the TV off, and lays there to just bask in you being with her. She’d never felt so adored, so cared for, so at ease. This is was it was supposed to be.

feedback appreciated as always <3

title from would that i by hozier (i’m sure everyone knew that. we’re all gay here)

[loudclan-clangen]

Hey there!

Checking out Loudclan? That's great! Thanks so much!

Loudclan was originally planned to be drawn as I played the game like most other clangen blogs... Then I got frustrated about how slow it was moving and played ahead. Just a little bit, nothing to worry about, only about 1000 moons. So this blog should be running for A WHILE. I also take pretty big liberties with the designs and events. I think it's more interesting that way! Also it's been several real life months since I started playing and some things I just... forgot. Or lost. Either way, it's fun to stretch my creative skills.

As for the mechanics of the blog:

General Content Warnings Include:

Death, Animal Death, (Cat Death specifically), Death in Childbirth, Violence, Murder, Illness, Gore, Grooming, Abuse, Bad Parenting, Cheating, Affairs, Drama, Cursing, Language, Dirty Jokes, ECT. (if i missed something please let me know)

Updates are not going to be on a consistent schedule... ever. I'm a college student. I just don't have the time or energy.

The style is going to vary wildly. It's been years since I've consistently drawn cats and I wasn't ever really happy with the way I did it back then anyway. Come along for the ride with me! I'm just as surprised by what my hands create as you guys!

Overview:

Loudclan is set in a fictional location that is based on South Central Alaska. A group of rogues fled up the mountains to get away from the deep snows of the valleys at the beginning of a particularly harsh winter. The clan follows three "Leaders" in the form of the Leader, the Lead Healer, and the Lead Mediator. These leaders will each pass their position on to their oldest heir, the closest related member of their direct family. Issues regarding what happens when two cats have similar claims have yet to be sorted out by the clan, and may never be fully decided... *insert mysterious foreshadowing sounds*

If you are interested in more of a deep dive into the lore check out this post: Lore, or anything tagged #loudclanlore .

Want to see a list of all of the Loudclan cats? Go here: Allegiances.

Asks are welcome! I will do my best to answer them quickly and efficiently! I am happy to talk about characters, art, process, gameplay, pretty much anything. (I probably won't be showing sprites though, just because I've played ahead so far and a not insignificant amount of them are just... gone. Lost to the ether. Sacrificed so that my laptop could keep running the game.) All asks are tagged #loudclanasks .

Also fanart/writing/edits are more than welcome! You guys are so cool and talented and I am honored that you would want to make something based on my dumb little pixel cats. Referencing or imitating my style/designs/layout is absolutely allowed, just make sure to mention me so I don't miss them! All fan contributions are tagged #loudclanfan .

I will never complain about anyone "blowing up my notifications" or spam liking. I think it's so neat to see people go through the blog liking as they go. Don't worry about it. I enjoy seeing you enjoy my work!

A little bit about me, you can call me "D"! I use any pronouns, I'm pretty ambivalent about them but the majority of people use she/her for me and I'm fine with that. I'm 20, I live most of the time in Alaska and part time on a ranch in Texas and I'm working on my BA in Elementary Education. I started reading Warriors in 2nd Grade and stopped in 6th Grade but the brain worms never die. If you know me in real life no you don't: It took me all of high school to kill the furry allegations I'm not going through that again. Oh, and my main blog is @restinginpiecesofpizza but warning, there's spoilers for Owlstar's family tree for like 8 generations posted on there.

If you think Loudclan's cool and want to help me out consider checking out my RedBubble!

Anyway, thanks for checking out my blog! I hope you enjoy!

[alta1red]

EDEN. | 𝑰𝑴𝑨𝑮𝑰𝑵𝑬 II. Your very presence,

𝑺𝒀𝑷𝑵𝑶𝑺𝑰𝑺 : THE HAZBIN HOTEL CAST AND THEIR OPINION OF YOU.

𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 : ( None that I'm aware of, although do inform me if I missed something ! )

𝑷𝑻 : II

♪

" Well.. Uh, Eden ! I can happily say you've got the job ! " Charlie happily announced, seemingly overflowing with excitement, observing the pep in her step as she walked towards you —she took your hands in hers as she shook it with vigorous energy.

" I'm so happy you joined us, here at Hazbin Hotel ! "

— Bingo, just what you needed to hear from the 'Little Morningstar' Herself. After all, your resume was damn near flawless, ( although erasing abit of your lore, like, you being an important figure up in the clouds ! ) Denying such a resume would be an utter loss the hotel of course !

— The hard part, however, is pretending to be a Sinner —And while sure you're not exactly a Saint, you've been drilled with proper manners, and overly kiss-ass behavior from Michael's, " How to be a proper Angel 101, " Lessons.

— Working as a gardener was easy in the long run, you've been taking care of plants for millennia — Although you could say a little One-Eyed Darling is abit iffy with the soil you had staining and dirtying your uniform, and well.. the dirt in general, but ! You were of course polite, being a dirty slob was incredibly embarrassing !

— So, just to ease Niffty you kept the dirt, soil, and grime all In the outside. ( Exception is the dirt, soil, and grime in the flower pots.. ) You often lead her to bug species that were harmful to your plants, finding amusement as she ruthlessly, and painstakingly kills their mother's. Maybe Charlie should say that she's only 75% percent harmless ?

— Your relationship with the Daughter of the Morningstar was, peaceful, maybe? You often let her rant to you about mundane stuff, finding her little shows and musicals, ballad's and all the such abit endearing, often leading you to follow the rhythm, and tapping your finger along to the beat as she sings, ( although you never joined such activities, ) You notice alot of her quirks, like her using hand gestures, her mushing out on a few words, ( and how she's abit naïve to how some of the residences -sinners, ehem, if not most of them were rather unredeemable. )

— She often reminded you of a certain Seraphim from up there, their resemblance being uncanny, but nostalgic. And due to you getting used to the Seraphim's personality you found it relatively easy to get along with Charlie, your day to day chats, and her suggestions for flowers were a delight, ( Let's hope she doesn't find out a few of the flowers she suggested, and you planted, don't belong in Hell. )

— She thinks that you're reliable, and a very comforting person to be around —She truly believes you deserve to be redeemed with how righteous and charitable you act, she considers you a sister, a person she can rely on when things go south, someone to have sibling conversation's with !

— Although, her girlfriend —Angel in disguise, hehe. You noticed Vaggie held a tense atmosphere around you, not that you minded, you were new, and 'Sinners' aren't exactly to be trusted, but you both kept a respectful and polite attitude towards eachother, in respect of Charlie.

— As time passed however Vaggie found you oddly nostalgic, your behavior.. and your mannerisms were too 'pristine' and 'polished' almost as if you'd been drilled with lessons for so long, or, maybe Vaggie was just imagining it, you held an aura which screamed 'Noble' in some way, but with the way you carried yourself..

— Vaggie had to just be imagining when she saw Blue Blood drip down from your finger, right?

— Now, moving on to Alastor; he was polite to all the ladies in the Hotel ( Including you, ) however you always notice how his shadows linger longer than they're supposed to, ( Is he watching ? ) He held a dignified aura within him, his voice —Static, that's what you could hear, and if you didn't pay much attention maybe you would've missed how there was a laughing track, only heard if you payed more attention than you should.

— Your first meeting with him, was.. well, eerie.

— " Alastor'— He grabbed your hand and shook it, the action causing you to tumble abit, before gaining composure —' Pleasure to be meeting you dear, quite a pleasure ! " He greeted, giving you his all too famous never ending smile. You smiled back politely, and then said, " Eden.. Although you could call m— nevermind, I'm the new gardener, honor to meet you Sir ! " You gave back the same energy, it's impolite to not too after all.

— Alastor enjoys your modest fashion, and how polite you are, quite a darling ! ( He doesn't like you. )

— For Angel Dust's opinion however.. A prude, with a clean streak ( how'd ya even end up in hell with such a goody-goody personality ? ) Sure Toot's, everyone has their own secrets but being so mysterious in a place like Hell ? Might aswell just be open with your crimes and all, not like anyone has the ability to judge ( Hell is Hell, )

— Although your company ain't too bad, after all —You give 'hella good advice, however he recognizes that look on your face —You're hidin' something big-time, and even then with your reckless and ditzy actions he KNOWS you aren't tryna' hide it at all.

— Husk.. He pays zero mind to you, often having chats some nights when you go for a swig- or -two, you were cryptic —In a different way, unlike a certain Smiles for Day's. You weren't eerie, neither creepy, just too secretive, everyone's knows it.

— Husk knows how Alastor feels about you, and to be honest, it ain't pretty. Consider how he knows about Alastor's certain feelings about someone being far more powerful, being petty, and all.

— But how much longer until everyone knows how deep of an entity you actually are?

FIN.

[kittieshauntedourfantasy]

ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴜᴛᴄʜᴇʀʏ!ʀᴛᴄ

A Ride the Cyclone AU by @kittieshauntedourfantasy

I do not own "The Butchery", nor do I own Ride the Cyclone. I am merely combining these two things to make my own AU.

Instead of being Perfectdolls, Ocean x Penny is called Perfectcut in this AU! Because it's like a perfect cut of meat.

FANART AND FANFICTION ARE MORE THAN WELCOME! Other fanworks are totally encouraged, too! I'd love to see this grow and gain some interest.

ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɪɴꜰᴏ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜᴛ.

Okay so first off "The Butchery" is... NOT well known, to say the least! So first off, I'll put the game's description here:

"One night after driving down the wrong road in the heart of the American South, you are taken inside an old farmhouse home to two strange brothers."

I completely recommend the game! It's awesome. The lore is hidden but really cool, and you respawn if you die. There's lots of puzzles, too, if you like that. This is the link to the game! This is the link to the fandom wiki!

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ/ʀᴏʟᴇꜱ

Ocean O'Connell Rosenberg takes the role of the player character. While driving at night, she takes a wrong turn and ends up at the now abandoned Elysium Community Farm.

Penny Lamb takes the role of Jackson. She's the more friendly of the two siblings, but still dangerous. She plays nicer with Ocean than the other victims she's had. She shows just about every emotion she feels.

Ezra Lamb takes the role of William. He's very blunt with words, and tends to do most of the dirty work. Unlike Penny, he is extremely apathetic.

I think that's all I've got for now! If there are any questions, PLEASE ask me! I'd love to answer them and flesh out this AU more.

Mischa Bachinski takes the role of "the survivor". Like Ocean, he is one of Penny and Ezra's victims. While trying to escape the farmhouse, he encounters Ocean, and is immediately aggressive with her. Once he discovers that she isn't one of the Lambs, though, he softens slightly and clues her in on his escape plan. But things end up going wrong.

[buckets-and-trees]

haunting thoughts on Sacrificial

read it here: SACRIFICIAL

Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: Minotaur!Bucky x Botanist!Female!Reader Word Count: 3.5k Content/Concept Warnings: DARK, lulled into a trap, human sacrifice, dubious consent, fuck or die, public sex, exhibitionism, size kink, monster fucking, face fucking/oral male receiving, vaginal fingering/fisting, breast worship, rough fucking, possessive/pet, praise kink, dirty talk, cum play, marking, cream pie, choking

RECAP: If it seems too good to be true, it always is. Always. Too bad you had to go to the remote jungles of South America to learn that lesson.

After soft!dark Mob Boss Bucky, Minotaur Bucky is the next favorite.

I've answered some asks before about this story:

brief insight into what reader's life is like

physical composition of Minotaur!Bucky

easy and challenging parts of writing the fic

the writing of the story from concept to completion in one night

...but it's been a while and there's still a lot that I think about with this AU.

There's some suspension of disbelief for this story, right? Like a minotaur existing. But I really wanted to embed a lot of reality into it so that the unbelievable parts could work. I researched the kind of climate a minotaur should be living in according to folklore and compared maps for areas of South America since there's still places in the Amazon where I felt like the semi-remote village could be (enough information about the place that you could look up info but not find out much about it) and that it would make sense for there to be a research opportunity because there'd be an abundance of flora to still explore.

And one of the things I liked and knew that I was doing when I wrote this was telling a very specific story - you being offered up as a sacrifice to Minotaur!Bucky - but leaving a lot of things to explore. When I wrote it, I was writing for me with @rookthorne enabling me, and I was just taking on the premise as kind of a challenge to the types of stories I was used to writing and building at the time, and I had no idea it would hit with so many people. I'm not saying that to be modest - I was enjoying it, and I did think some people would also like it, but I'd written enough at that point to know that not every story lands, you just write what you want to, and then release it and see what happens. But anyway, I'm saying that because I knew I was opening up a lot of questions that weren't immediately relevant to tell THIS STORY but that I just told my brain not to worry about in detail at the time.

There's quite a sad backstory for Bucky, for example, and that motivates him and after years and years of bitterness, that's what's got him to the point where we land with him - scary, dark, selfish, mistrusting, manipulative - but he was a human man before he was cursed into his Minotaur form, so he's not heartless, but he's extremely guarded with any glimpse of that heart. Physical intimacy can be precarious for keeping that part of him unreachable though - and it will be rough for both you and Bucky to navigate that entirely uncharted territory. You're the first and only willing sacrifice, and there's not only Bucky to navigate, but why you agreed, too.

Plus the lore I've been building up and exploring in my "notes for later" on this AU since it did get some friends and people do like it...

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

read more from the Dark Forest Fest

[slotumn]

Today's 3H worldbuilding headcanon of the day:

How do the countries in 3H insult one another? Because as we all know, establishing how different groups insult and dehumanize one another in-universe is very important to worldbuilding.

Anyway.

First and most obvious types of insults would be animal-based insults, with each nation having their associated mascot animals. Adrestia gets "vulture," Faerghus gets "rabid/rabid cats/rabid kitties," and Leicester gets "snakes in deer's skin," with the implication being snakes = reptiles = wyverns = Almyrans = Leicesterians may as well be Almyran (barbarian, heathen, etc)

Second would be food-based insults. Includes both stuff about stereotypical cuisine (whichever region has surströmming would get "rotten fish breath") and mocking about food security. Ex: "Go munch on cattle feed"

Third, mocking accents and language. I guess the extent(?) of this one depends on whether you headcanon the nations as having different languages; I do, personally. And I expect most of it would mock the vernacular tongue used by commoners, rather than the posh ones used by nobles.

Fourth, accusations of sexual degeneracy, through exaggerations and distortions. Adrestians get "daughter-pimpers," in reference to the Imperial harem. Faerghans get "page-fuckers," in reference to the whole knighthood thing. Leicesterians get "cuckolds," with the obvious implication being that Almyrans fuck their women. (Also they probably have a myriad of creative ways to call each other gay, but that's just true so)

Finally, religion-based insults, frequently tied to big historical events in the continent. The War of Heroes would be a great fodder for those in the south to call northerners "descendants of sinners/dirty blood" or something along those lines. Meanwhile, the Official Church Lore™ claiming that the Elites and Nemesis were also given their Crests and Relics by the goddess would make them call southerners "second choice" or "half-baked" for supposedly being chosen but not even having Relics. (The exact wording would be a lot ruder of course)

There are probably insults for people considered too religious as well, albeit the origins and usage would be far more recent compared to the above. "Hrym zealots/terrorists" for those from the Empire, referencing the rebellion that got the Southern Church exiled. "Rhodos zealots/terrorists" for those from the Kingdom (especially the western part), referencing all the stuff Western Church was up to during canon. I... don't think there would be an equivalent for people from the Alliance though, the Eastern Church seems too weak to foster a strain of religious extremism that is both distinctly associated with Leicester and considered a threat to other Fódlanis*. But Leicester does get hit with extra pagan/heathen and "fake believer" accusations, again due to their proximity to Almyra + Alliance lords politicking

(*"other Fódlanis" is the key phrase, Adrestians and Faerghans wouldn't care if Leicesterians did religiously-motivated attacks on Almyrans or w/e. But Western Church or Southern Church causing chaos within their own countries would be a great excuse to point fingers.)

And obviously the funniest(?) part is that if non-Fódlanis learned of all this, they'd just go "that's crazy, you guys all seem the same to us though." It's always groups that have 90% of things in common saying the nastiest shit to each other, whether that's because they can't stand the 10% difference or because they hate looking in a mirror.

[feministsouthpark]

South Park Filler Guide - Season 2

Link for Part 1

I find the existence of filler guides quite amusing, since for some shows it makes sense (like Naruto), but for others (like Pokemon) it absolutely doesn't and they still exist. So here is an attempt to do an absolutely unnecessary one just for fun. 😅

The classifications are CANON (an episode with major storylines present), LORE (in which we get significant backstory or world building, but could be skippable)  and FILLER (completely skippable episodic storytelling, not connected to overarching story arcs)

PLS my analysis will have spoilers, if you're a first time viewer, just scroll to the bottom and read the list and only read full text if you are familiar with the content of the show already!

S2E1 Terrance and Phillip in Not Without My Anus is FILLER

This is the definition of filler, and not even a good filler, but the one that drags. The whole episode is a waste of time, and a horrible season opener if you ask me. I don't even care if Saddam Hussein dies in this one, skip it anyway, all you need to know for his next appearance is that he is already dead, which will be obvious and TBH since the movie gives a different story about his death, this one might as well take place in an alternate continuity. S2E2 Cartman's Mom is Still a Dirty Slut is CANON

We're back with the conclusion of the season 1 mystery. For now. S2E3 Ike's Wee Wee is CANON

Kyle learns the secret of his brother and he also gets a great deal of character development that makes this episode a must-watch. S2E4 Chickenlover is FILLER

A great character episode for Officer Barbrady, nontheless a filler half hour of the show. S2E5 Conjoined Fetus Lady is FILLER

One might enjoy this one for Pip. Or for Nurse Gollum. But not for its long-lasting consequences, that one is for sure. S2E6 The Mexican Staring Frog of Southern Sri Lanka is LORE

This one is debatable, and the one that I would think most people would actually debate on, since most of it is a one off story, however there is a single scene at the end with Satan and Saddam, which acts as foreshadowing for the movie, so that one scene provides context, however the movie is enjoyable without this little introduction. S2E7 City on the Edge of Forever (Flashbacks) is FILLER

Again, you can't make more specific filler content than a whole episode that is just a dream. Stan dreams that Eric dreams that Ms. Crabtree falls in love. S2E8 Summer Sucks is FILLER

I was thinking about the Mr. Twig storyline. It does build up Herbert's identity as a gay man. However looking at it, this doesn't seem like manga original content, rather, this hits every usual beat of an anime-exclusive filler arc. Edit: I know South Park is not based on a manga, it's an elaborate joke. S2E9 Chef's Chocolate Salty Balls is FILLER

Anything that gets brought up later from this episode is counted as filler content, so in the long run it doesn't matter. S2E10 Chickenpox is FILLER

Stuart and Gerald get some backstory, but otherwise the whole story is a one-off. S2E11 Roger Ebert Should Lay off the Fatty Foods is FILLER

I believe this one was expected. Nothing in this episode matters by the next. S2E12 Clubhouses is FILLER

Randy and Sharon divorce. They get back together by the end. Bebe likes Kyle. She doesn't by the end of the episode. Typical filler stuff. S2E13 Cow Days is FILLER

The Terrance and Phillip dolls never appear again. Neither does Eric believing himself to be a Vietnamese prostitute called Ming Lee have any consequences. S2E14 Chef Aid is FILLER

Herbert Garrison's filler arc with Mr. Twig comes to an end. Chef sleeps with a lot of women. End of episode. S2E15 Spookyfish is FILLER

I love this episode, but Sharon being crazy and all the paralell universe stuff are solely for this one. S2E16 Merry Christmas Charlie Manson! is FILLER

Eric now has a bunch of family members, none of which we ever see again. S2E17 Gnomes is CANON

It may come as a surprise after such a long string of fillers, but since the gnomes return and Tweek becomes a major player later, it only makes sense for this episode to be seen as fairly plot-heavy. S2E18 Prehistoric Ice Man is FILLER

Stan and Kyle get into a fight and then make up. The iceman never returns.

… SPOILER-FREE RUNDOWN

Again, CANON means you should watch it, FILLER means you can skip it, LORE is somewhere in-between, any episode with the LORE label will have an explanation that helps you decide if you should include it or not.

S2E1 Terrance and Phillip in Not Without My Anus is FILLER S2E2 Cartman's Mom is Still a Dirty Slut is CANON S2E3 Ike's Wee Wee is CANON S2E4 Chickenlover is FILLER S2E5 Conjoined Fetus Lady is FILLER S2E6 The Mexican Staring Frog of Southern Sri Lanka is LORE* S2E7 City on the Edge of Forever (Flashbacks) is FILLER S2E8 Summer Sucks is FILLER S2E9 Chef's Chocolate Salty Balls is FILLER S2E10 Chickenpox is FILLER S2E11 Roger Ebert Should Lay off the Fatty Foods is FILLER S2E12 Clubhouses is FILLER S2E13 Cow Days is FILLER S2E14 Chef Aid is FILLER S2E15 Spookyfish is FILLER S2E16 Merry Christmas Charlie Manson! is FILLER S2E17 Gnomes is CANON S2E18 Prehistoric Ice Man is FILLER *Only for its last scene if you want a tease for the movie. Personal notes: You may notice that this season is a lot less plot-heavy than the previous one, with only 3 canon episodes out of 18 compared to the 9 out of 13 in the first.

[titaniumrock]

Lore down below cut because it's really long :)

Setting-

Fallout , Texas 2280. 119 years after Fallout 1.

(Before 2280) The state of Texas has been inhabited by regular wastelanders, two most important offshoots of the Masters surviving army lead by Attis, and brotherhood members that split from the main Brotherhood now called The Texas Brotherhood of Steel.

Texas brotherhood, with fear and wanting to prevent Attis army from making more Mutants to continue the Masters plan, engaged in Battles with Attis's army and managed to win making their army not much of a threat. Unfortunately the Brotherhood is also not much of a threat as well due to losses in the battle. The Texas wastlanders don't really care about both parties and we're mostly uninvolved in the conflict.

----

(During 2280)

The Brotherhood presence is limited and mostly keep to themselves over in a town they 'stole' called Alamo, San Antonio. The town itself is most untouched by the bombs aside from the Northside which was blasted into a crater. Despite that the town was then split into North, South, East, and West. The North has been converted into a place to toss waste, the Brotherhood has been given the East side, South is for residents to live, and the West is for trading. The brotherhood over there keep the city under control and are still trying to recruit and build up, they have yet to gain many members though.

Attis's army has dwindled into almost nothing, many members dead by the battle or time. They mostly reside in a town called Austin and work as the city's guard under a Super Mutant named Keat. With how close they are to Alamo it is a bit of a suprise that the Brotherhood haven't tried to murder them, but then again the city has a mutant plant problem and lacks electricity, they are currently trying to get the Texas Rangers to come help.

A place called Fort Worth was once the largest Brotherhood of Steel outpost in Texas but it was wiped out by The Jackals who would have tooken the fort had their leader not died. As such the place was then taken over by the Texas Rangers main leaders. The fort is now used to train members and they have refused to give it back to the Texas Brotherhood who doesn't have the fire power to even attempt to get it back anyways.

The Graveyard is a rather large town that was once a Airplane graveyard, the residents there have used the planes as shelter and have been in constant contact with Lone star who provides them food and protection despite the distance between the two.

Lone star is a large town that acts as Texas's Trading center, it was once called Abilene pre-war but has mostly lost that name. The town remains quite civil but doesn't mind dirty work thus making it a hotspot for anything. The town is broken up into two main sides, The Right side is for purchasing and selling usual goods like armour and weaponry as well as housing, while the Left is for unusual trading such as selling or purchasing animals, people, drugs, etc. This difference between sides is not exactly clear but it is mostly used to stop violence.

Vault 39 is located near Lone star and houses many plants mutated and not. It has been mostly under control and is used to provide the majority of the food for the town.

The town of Carbon is a small community of farmers that also provide food and are usually the ones to help deal with containing Vault 39.

----

Factions-

Texas Rangers- They are the main group in Texas. They occupy Fort Worth, and Lone star primarily. They have been giving solders/Rangers over to the NCR due to the NCR stretching themselves very thin. They mostly keep their troops however due to the NCR not listening to Texas Rangers advice.

-Enemies?

* They are technically enemies with Caesar's legion but have yet to encounter them at all despite how close Caesar's legion is to Texas. Though there is no saying that Scouts haven't been sent over.

* They also don't really care for the Texas Brotherhood who tried to place themselves as a super power.

* They are technically enemies to any 'outlaws' due to their goals.

-Texas Brotherhood of Steel- They are a minor faction in 2280 and don't focus on taking technology and instead are trying to rebuild. They mostly keep to themselves and don't interact with anyone really outside of Alamo.

Attis's army- The army has technically disbanded and remnants remain in Austin where they live and help protect the city while trying to deal with the infestation of mutated plants.

----

Main characters here-

Bunny- A 2 year old Texas Heeler stray that Joan found in a town called the Graveyard. Bunny was given her name by Joan and has been Joan's companion since.

Bunny is a very excited and happy pup, she is loyal to a fault and very cautious of those she doesn't know, and so long as they show here kindness she will be kind to them.

.

.

Marcus Connelly- A 39 year old man who grew up in a city called the Lone star. Having lived there he eventually took up a job of a Texas Ranger. A job title that had a few courses, 1. Protect the town, 2. Protect caravans, 3. Hunt outlaws, and 4. Recruit members.

He chose hunting down outlaws. During his time with the Rangers he eventually meets Joan who recently joined up with the Rangers. Meeting at Forth Worth for extra training, he observes their pre-inspection training (to see their combat ability and overall stats if you will), which they absolutely destroy, catching his attention. He then pulls some strings (he literally begs over and over again until the 'overseers' of the squads give in) to get partnered up with them and becomes the Companion of Joan for basically the rest of time due to Joan needing things to always be the same.

He has many personalty characteristics of a Rough collie, he is very affectionate to those he cares about, loyal, quite intelligent despite a lack of proper education, and he is quick to learn and adapt. He can however be very loud, clumsy, stubborn, swears like a sailor, and doesn't like to do things slow and careful he prefers to just get things done.

.

.

Joan- They have a very odd and sad backstory. Born in 2045 they lived in the Pre-war world which was falling apart. In 2063 at the age of 18 they were forced into joining the military to help themselves and their familie due to the slight perks members of the military get for their family.

In an unknown time they are then chosen for a secret part of the army that was trying to create 'super soldiers'. They are then called, Star Bird 07 (the 07 coming from the day of their birth), and thus lose their name and humanity.

This loss of humanity is soon removed when the Pre-war world as they knew it ceases to exist and they are introduced to the post-war, leaving their pod, grabbing their gear, leaving the bunker that weirdly lacked scientists, and escaping to the absolute freedom that Fallout can be. They then head back to Texas where they onced lived looking for familiarity that they so desperately needed.

Joan has many characteristics of a Black cat, they are highly intelligent, agile, graceful, loyal, prefers to do things carefully and slow, and are very adaptable. But they have been treated without humanity for so long that they don't get how to act properly, they get anxious often, are very violent at times, overly cautious, get attached to things easily, needs things to stay the same, and is hard to get to know due to some trust issues they have.

(They are 235 in 2280 the date they were set to be released).

Lore for Star Birds-

Star birds were essentially the prototype of Coursers. And Star birds were/are basically Pre-war super soldiers, and for all their suffering they were only used once in the Battle of Anchorage to test them out in a real battle, worst thing too is that they were barely used as well in that battle.

So all in all these soldiers were essentially experiments to see how far you could modify the human body while keeping them 'human'.

Their bones were reinforced with metal (the majority of them not all), eyesight enhanced, hearing enhanced, pain removed by adding an 'organ' to produce Med-X, Healing that is and can be extremely detrimental caused by another 'organ' that creates its own stimpak's, sense of scent enhanced, wires (from the Chinese stealth suit) implanted into their body to make them have the ability to become invisible, teeth enhanced to have a sharper and stronger bite, etc.

Then no matter if they are female or male they were sterilized, women getting a short end of the stick by having their entire uterus removed and having to have a supplement of estrogen placed into their body that has to be replaced every five years, while the guys only get a vasectomy.

Though despite how many enhancements were put into them they still could die, mutate, lose their minds making them feral, have organ failures, get infections etc. (The institute with their Coursers tried to remove those failures while using the Star birds as reference.)

There is also a bit of a class difference between the soldiers as well. The stars on their armour giving their rank.

- 1 ⭐, Star birds. They are the most perfect ones, being, easily manipulated to do what is asked of them, best results of the modifications, and have little to no 'defects'.

-2 ⭐⭐, Star birds. They are almost perfect, they are usually just missing that moldability that 1 ⭐ Star birds have or they have that and a 'defect' like hearing being broken, or eyesight being low. They often are left as 2 ⭐⭐s or fixed with harsher molding or fixing of the 'defects'.

-3 ⭐⭐⭐, Star birds. They are adequate but need more training and the enhancements didn't go too well. So they get fixed and have further molding (not all end up even moving up a rank).

Then there are the Decommissioned Star birds. They are the ones who died (from execution, or from 'natural' deaths), or those who are too far gone (mutations, mentality unstable, unruly, etc). They get branded with a 🚫⭐ on a very visible part of them and depending on of they are alive or not are used for more extreme experiments, or their body parts are used to enhance other Star Birds.

Then after they are tested in operation Anchorage and enhanced with the wires from the stealth suits they are then sent to a location in the Capitol a month before the bombs drop. During this month they are used to help build up the bunker they will be staying at for a long time.

When the bombs did drop however, a handful of the Star birds were outside the bunker and witnessed the end before having to go inside. They are then put into pods similar to Cyro pods (except that there is a wierd aloe vera like gel that surrounds them) and a timer is set that keep them locked until it runs out scientist being given the chore of watching over them to ensure no failures occur. The time is however set very far and not all/most of the Star birds have the same time of release.

[ryndicate]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ  A Drop in Time

The limits of your own mind might be the blessing you never knew you needed.

Vampire!Megumi x reader (fem body/pronouns)

notes: haha oops it’s been a month. not gonna say sorry cause i spent the majority of it sick and recovering, so there was nothing to be done, but i am really happy to be posting again! My beta deserves all my appreciation and some damn good soup bc they edited this so fast :’) Easily my favorite chapter so far, so enjoy!

warnings: attempted murder, blood, tiny bit of gore, pain, Satoru Gojo is its own warning, vampire stuff, a little peek of my lore

By expanding, you are consenting to viewing adult/dark content, and all warnings listed above. 18+ Minors DNI

Blog Rules & Main Links

⋆⁺₊⋆ Ch. ii. ☪︎ Masterlist ☪︎ Series Warnings ☪︎ Ch. iv ⋆⁺₊⋆

As Satoru absconded with you to the edge of your village and beyond, he made no further threats nor any attempt to harm you, but that didn’t leave you any more hopeful. His chest is firm against your back as he rides you south, your fingers tight on the saddle’s edge and teeth clenched to avoid biting your tongue over the harsh pace he sets on the poor creature carrying the weight of two.

The night air is hot and sticky leaving you miserable at your choice of attire, but the thick smell of rain promises the heat will be brief. Hours pass in silence. The terrain changes from sloping plain to a small woodland, then to the small neighboring town around which Satoru gives wide berth. Eventually you no longer recognize your surroundings. 

It’s still dark when Satoru stops the horse by a nearby stream and dismounts with enviable grace. Long, slender fingers close around your waist and you tense and resist as he makes move to help you do the same. 

Satoru raises an eyebrow. “The horse needs a break before we move on, and you need to stretch your legs unless you want to be as stiff as a board tomorrow.”

Without the heavy plod of hoofbeats in your ear you finally take note of harsh panting of the animal beneath you. Feeling a flash of pity for the creature you relent, and he lifts you from the saddle with terrifying ease. Your knees buckle when your feet meet solid ground and you come to realize that he is quite right. You’re already sore now; you can’t imagine how much worse it will be tomorrow. You shuffle your feet and do your best to flex your muscles, trying to appear uncaring under Satoru’s cryptic gaze. It’s a relief when he turns away, approaching the mount that had wandered to the stream’s edge and is now drinking eagerly.

The imposing vampire checks the saddle’s straps, and pulls something from the attached bag, his back towards you.

You’re unsure what to make of him now that he’s not directly threatening you. The danger has not passed, but with the way he is now maybe there will be a chance for you to slip away. The stars glitter above your head and you’ve seen enough summer nights to know that there’s a couple more hours of darkness left. Satoru intends to cover more ground, but maybe when day breaks there will be a chance for you to slip away without his notice. Do vampires even need sleep? You pray they do.

You sit, trying your best to keep your dress from getting dirty out of habit, and try to keep your expression clear. You let your eyes drift close and relax your jaw; maybe he will assume you’re sleeping. The night has been long but too much has happened, and you’re sure in any other situation, you might be exhausted…but the flame of survival still flickers within you, and you pray your body won’t fall lax until you’ve had your chance to escape.

Something nudges the outside of your calf and you jump violently, eyes snapping open to see Satoru standing over you. You hadn’t heard him approach and now he seems to be doing his best to hold in a laugh. 

You bite back the instinctive desire to snap at him and instead quietly ask him what he wants. 

Satoru crouches and holds something out to you. “Drink.”

Tentatively you reach out and your fingers close around a wooden cup, slowly realizing he’s drawn you water from the stream. You gaze up at him, weary from trying to understand his motives, wondering what use this kindness is.

Satoru sighs as you continue to sit there, fingers shifting around the cup’s edge. Shadows linger around his face, the night making it difficult for you to read the true depth of his expression. “We’re not stopping again until sunrise, and I have no food for you. It was good enough for the horse, so either drink it or don’t. Just make sure to give that back.”

He stalks off and you squint at his retreating back, wondering to the gods what he has to be so affronted about. Are all vampires so indecipherable? Here he is transporting you to your death and he has the gall to take insult at your denial? It’s beyond madness.

Yet still, it’s only a few moments of his back turned until you bring the cup to your lips and drink, so maybe his sanity isn’t the only one in question. Your stomach is a hard knot, but you drink greedily in the awareness that it might be the last. So many lasts come into mind. Your last hug wasn’t your mother’s, it was to little Yachi. The last tea you drank had been sage and peppermint. Your last meal…you can’t even remember what Toshi put in the stew, but you do know you might never have another. So many simple things that no longer seem simple, but instead full of meaning that you should have grasped in the moment. Panic brings a smile to your face because this doesn’t feel real and it makes you want to laugh at the absurdity of your approaching death.

But you don’t. 

Instead you sit, carefully holding on to a wooden cup that a demon made a point to tell you to return. 

You wake to a sharp pain radiating inside your mouth, moaning at the bitter taste of iron. After nodding off, you find you’ve bitten your own tongue under the bounce of the horse’s steps, and your fingers tighten on the saddle as you realize an even graver mistake.

Wildly looking around, dread tingles down your spine because you have no recognition of your surroundings. A glance up shows that the stars have dwindled so your only mark of direction is the sun, not quite risen but pinking the skyline on your left shoulder.

“Good morning, lambkin. We stop soon, though there won’t be much comfort.” Satoru’s voice rises over the beating hooves. “I made it farther that I thought I would. Hope you like the woods.”

You want to shriek at him for making any comment about your comfort but you’re too busy trying to pay attention to the terrain, looking for cover, harsh ground, places to avoid. Your chance to run is fast approaching and you need to be ready. Daylight will be on your side.

Pink is catching like fire on the tops of the trees as Satoru urges the horse into a thick copse. Your chest feels tight as he secures the horse to a low branch only a stone’s throw into the shade. It’s an easy distance to cover with only a few roots making the ground uneven, but any other debris that might have gotten in your way was trampled down by the vampire’s mount. Your heart plummets, however, as Satoru approaches you with a grim set to his jaw, another set of ropes in his hands. 

There’s no fighting him as he seats you on the ground, binding your hands firmly behind your back. “I’ll be awake before the sun sets, and then these won’t be necessary. I assume you realize that I can’t simply trust you.”

You don’t waste your breath to respond, turning your chin from him and making a show of trying to get comfortable as you angle away. Wind airs through the trees as you try to think of what you’re supposed to do now; you twist subtly at the bindings to find them painfully secure, jagged and harsh against your soft skin. 

“What am I supposed to do all day?” you ask rather petulantly.

Satoru raises an eyebrow at you and shrugs, not committing to a response. “I’m going to sleep.”

“It’s too hot for me to sit like this all day, couldn’t I just walk around instead? I wouldn’t go far.” You wheedle insistently but he rolls his too-blue eyes at you and stands up from where he’d been resting against a nearby tree. You try to shuffle away from him as he crouches in front of you, the white-haired vampire ignoring your indignant huff as he pulls at the layers of your skirts.

“What are you doing?” you hiss, scandalized, as he shifts the fabric over his palms. You receive no response other than the sound of ripping cloth as he tears out the lower layer of your dress. 

“That’ll help.” He grins at you, letting the ruined piece of the dress land in a sad pile next to your feet. “Now relax and enjoy the shade, lambkin.”

You glare at his retreating back grumbling about his indecency, but he pays you no more mind as he settles back in, his head tipping back against the tree and exposing the smooth column of his throat.

And so you wait, your nails making whatever tears they can at the ropes. You wait until his breath deepens, until his fingers slacken, his eyelids twitching under what appears to be an unfortunate dream. You watch him curiously, as his chest rises and falls, wondering what could ail one who seems so…unworldly. But another rub of pain as you test your bonds reminds you to be uncaring, tears pricking your eyes at the sharp chafe. Your fingers and wrists ache from the angle you bend them in to reach, and your hands thankfully find a small stone when you stop to ease the burn. Relief burns bright in your chest as the rope finally begins to fray and when it mercifully snaps you rise unsteadily with all the silence you can muster and sneak to the edge of the trees before taking off at a run.

To your utter dismay, you hear a howl of rage after you’ve barely taken a handful of strides. Your heart explodes like thunder in your chest and you run faster, praying that the short distance into the sunlight is enough to keep him from you. The footsteps behind you are tale of yet more of God’s disregard. There is no force, divine or otherwise, that could stop the sob tearing through your chest as you feel his weight lunge into yours, tackling you to the ground into the shade of an ash sapling.

You’re flipped harshly onto your back, his hips heavy over your waist as he pins your arms to the earth, grip unforgiving. You’re granted the view of his face, once fair skin now splotchy and red as if burned. Ice blue eyes are crazed, and in the daylight you can see his lashes are the same startling white as his hair. Satoru chuckles airily but the moment his voice meets your ears, you feel as if your very life is surrendering to his rage and draining from your body.

“I have expended time. I have expended effort. Magic. Goodwill far beyond your precious understanding. Have you even half a wit in that darling little mind of yours, then hear me now, Rumi. Yes, I know your name,” he sneers at your shocked expression. 

His fingers dig into your cheeks painfully and you’d cry out if your breath weren’t so shallow from fear. The angry sores on his skin are already beginning to lighten, but they do not fade entirely. 

“If Megumi did not need you, I would drain you myself here and now. I am under no orders to retrieve you unharmed. In fact, I’m under no orders at all. I can do whatever I wish with you, and all I need is for you to remain alive. I would not test my lenience again, for you will find it no longer remains. Rather, it’s your choice. We could have some wonderful fun together, you and I. Does that pique your interest, lambkin?” 

You see nothing but manic bloodshed in his eyes and find yourself terrorized into submission by his blinding smile, cowering in the dirt and allowing him to scoop you from the ground with no protest.

He adjusts you in his arms and lowers you both to the ground once more, shifting until he’s comfortable.

You now sit, pinned to his chest, legs framed by his own under the miniscule shade offered by the young tree. The position is intimate, terrifying, and you cannot help but wish that fate had given you any other misfortune than this one. 

“Be still and silent, if you know what’s good for you,” Satoru warns quietly. His silky voice is tattered with pain and exhaustion, but you have no sympathy for his situation, eclipsed by your own. He slumps heavier against the tree and your body naturally shifts with the movement. “When the sun sets, I’ll retrieve the horse. Behave the rest of the journey, and I will pretend this never happened.”

If only you could as well. You fall into a daze, watching the sun climb higher into the sky as the day continues like hell hasn’t encroached the earth. Clouds pass over the sky, light and unaware of the darkness that approaches. Birdsong fills the air with a merry tune, all while evil snores softly at your back. The most beautiful hands you’ve ever seen shackle your wrists, your personal grim reaper to escort you to the underworld.

Despite the many times you bemoaned to your mother as a child that there was nothing for you to do only to be shunted off to your lessons, you’ve never truly done nothing. Time drags its feet in such a way that you’d think it was frozen if not for the way the sun inches its journey across the sky. You’ve nothing to distract yourself with and can’t move about in fear of waking the sleeping monster. Your backside aches from your own weight, and your stomach is finally beginning to realize how hollow it’s grown. You’re now thankful for the water Satoru gave you even after your tongue begins to feel dry, your throat clicking at your intermittent swallows.

Midday is the hardest, the heat sticking to your skin and coating you in an uncomfortable damp. But salt and slick is nothing compared to the way the shade shortens, making your heart patter as the light creeps closer to Satoru’s feet. You wonder if the sun would affect him through his clothing, or would he safely slumber until the sunlight laps at his fingertips? You resist the urge to flex your wrists, wondering how he holds you so tightly in what appears to be a very deep sleep. 

Your chest rises and falls with his. With nothing to occupy your mind, your eyelids grow as heavy as the thick gray clouds that roll in from the skyline. Not even the rain wakes you as to drift into fitful sleep. 

Wakefulness comes slowly as you feel the earth beneath you shift and lull. There’s a saltiness in the air, and a dull roar on the wind. You open your eyes to see moonlight beaming down on a grassy cliffside in the distance. 

“Are we…?” you mumble, still trying to rouse yourself.

“The southern seaside,” Satoru answers quietly, slowing the horse to a stop. “You sleep heavily for a lady. I thought I would have to carry you down the cliffs.”

“Carry me down the—why are we going down the cliffside?” you asked, alarmed at the prospect.

“We are close to my home, a long forgotten entrance if you will. We won’t be bothered on this path.”

You look around but see naught but plains and sea, wondering what of this place he might call home.

Satoru swiftly dismounts taking you with him, and you watch with wide eyes as he faces the horse to what you assume is west and urges it on alone with a light slap. It takes off at a gallop and Satoru doesn’t even watch it depart, turning to you. “Come, we shouldn’t linger here long. We don’t need the attention.”

He takes your arm and as he drags you along with him towards the cliffs, an old memory plagues your mind. A story one of the elder sister’s of the church had told you. Be it far from you to remember the story in particular, but you remember its lesson with sparkling clarity: vampires cannot pass over moving water. You’ve never met a vampire to prove its legitimacy, but you can’t imagine a church would teach lessons untrue, and so your heart hopes.

The roll of the ocean is loud in your ears, filling you with the encouragement of one final chance. You begin to tremble; it could save your very life, but if you fail…pain beyond your reckoning is sure to follow. You cling to the sleeve of his tunic even as your other hand refuses to leave the earthy wall of the cliff. The path he leads you down is safe to all with sensible mind and those who know where it leads, but your fear is elevated. It feels like breathing wrong would send you tumbling to the same fate you’re planning out for him.

Satoru’s hold on your arm had slackened to that of a guide, not the same iron shackle it had been. Now would be the moment while you’re still close enough to the rise to make it back. You grit your teeth as apprehension makes you hesitate. 

Do it, just do it. What are you scared of? Pain? You’re going to die if you don’t, what mercy is it for it to be less painful?

At that thought your feet come stumbling to a stop, sending a spray of loose earth over the edge of the path. Satoru has barely turned his head before you’ve ripped your hand out of his grasp and planted your hands under his shoulder blades in a harsh shove. He lurches, then he’s over the edge, and that’s it. There’s no shout, no fanfare to compliment the horrific thing you just did, but you can’t even stop to let it sink in. You don’t peer over to make sure he’s fallen; you’re turning and retreating, breath caught in your throat as you lunge for your freedom. You reach the top of the rise and your feet tear at the earth in your haste to make it to the treeline in the direction you came. 

Dizziness enters your mind harshly and suddenly and you crash to the ground. You stare stricken, fingers curling tightly into the grass and dirt as you try in vain to steady yourself. Force, pure and white, shoves its way into your mind, solid and tangible, and the urge to empty your barren insides what of little you have left wracks your body like a fever. Your belly is pressed to the ground, fingers tearing at the grass as you shake and writhe, clinging to sanity by the barest of threads. 

There is no explaining what’s become of you, but for some strangely clear reason you just know you’ve failed. You can feel him: things about him you never wished to understand. His barely contained rage; an endless void of frustration and impatience; deep swirls of panic; aching loneliness; righteous fury; a frantic, frantic devotion. All of it swirls together in your mind: pieces of memory dropping like shards of glass around your consciousness, voices you’ve never heard echoing inside your own mind until you’re not sure you can remember your own.

As the pain continues you wail to the stars, covered by the clouds as if even they have turned their back to you. Through the feverish haze you register footsteps and your body slumps, submitting to every stimulation wracking your body that you just know is his doing somehow, instilling a deep unease within you on top of everything else.

Satoru glowers at you, water droplets from his soaked hair dripping down his snowy strands, sparkling at the ends until he shakes his head and scatters them. Through the tremors it’s almost as if his eyes are glowing, shining blue and bright, but you brush it off as a hallucination from the pain.

The sensations ease and then fade and you slump in exhaustion, one last dry heave shaking your frame. 

This is it. 

He’s going to torture you. He won’t kill you, but you know you’ll beg him for death far before he’s done with you. You don’t have the heart of legends, but that of a mouse in the face of this nightmare. You close your eyes tight, unable to face your own demise. 

Instead of the chilling laughter you expect you hear a deep exhale, and your eyes flutter open to see him glaring daggers at you as he gathers you into his arms again. 

“Not that I expected you to know any better, but that tale is naught but a myth. It would take a lot more than water to kill me.” Satoru's sodden clothes soak into your own. His smooth voice is quiet, reluctant, but firm. “Your tenacity is…unwittingly admirable, and as much as I want to beat it out of you, we’re too close for me to waste any more time. Hold on to me unless you want to plummet to your death.”

You gasp as he turns with you in tow and begins to run back to the cliffside. The air on your skin is cold now, colder where his wetness melts into your own, and it only gets worse as he starts down the path again moving at a pace that terrifies you. You’re sure both of you will pitch to your deaths, and let out a weak moan for him to slow down.

“Can’t, thanks to you. Now we’re racing the tide.” Satoru gives you a short glare and continues the journey downward.

As you near the bottom, an opening in the cliffside appears. Your fingers claw into his tunic as Satoru leaps several feet downward to the mouth of it, feet digging into the wet sand with the combined weight. Immediately you’re squirming to get down, only for him to huff and readjust his hold on you.

“Not yet.”

“Put me down!”

“I said, not yet,” Satoru hisses vehemently, beginning another run. The air inside the cavern is damp and sour, smelling of countless years’ worth of salt and brine. The deeper he goes, you begin to realize the cavern is actually a tunnel, sloping downwards in a path that makes you shudder when you realize goes much deeper than the waterfront. Now you understand his hurried dash, dread striking your gut when you wonder how much time you wasted.

“We’ll drown!” you gasp, twisting to look up at his face, the grim set of his lips.

“That we will, if I don’t make it far enough. So be still, won’t you?”

His breath is coming heavier and you helplessly try to heed him for the first time this entire nightmare, remaining as still as possible in his arms. His arms must surely be aching from carrying you this way so far, and you think back to the way your father used to carry you when you were a child, exhausting yourself at the markets. You quickly tap his arm, and he looks down at you, then forward again.

Annoyed, but heart still thumping, you tap him again and raise your voice. “You could carry me on your back, I’m sure that’d be faster.”

“I’m sure it would too, if I could trust you that close to my neck.”

“I’d rather not drown in an underground tunnel,” you snap breathlessly, fear too prominent to send him much attitude.

Satoru hums, and his pace slows a little but he doesn’t stop. 

“I’ll behave!”

“Fine!” Satoru snaps, jerking to a stop and letting your feet touch the floor.

He crouches and you’re quick to gather what's left of your skirts and clamber onto his back, shivering—despite this being your idea—as his burning hands cradle the undersides of your thighs. You inhale sharply as he takes off at a run once more, arms clasped tightly over his shoulders, the increase in his speed enough for you to feel it in your stomach. Closing your eyes, you rest your head on his back, trying to relax into his movements in order not to hinder him any further. 

After a time Satoru’s movements begin to strain and your eyes flutter open at the change, blinking harshly as you realize how dark it’s gotten. The tunnel has widened significantly and is now sloping sharply upward. You cling to him tighter as force drags you backwards, and his hands grip you more firmly in response. Eventually the ground evens out and he slows to a stop.

“The water never passes here. Down,” he says roughly, and you scramble down as he makes move to drop you. “We can rest a moment, but not long.”

“How much farther?” Your voice echoes down the rest of the tunnel and Satoru shoots you a nasty glare. Your arms ache from being locked around his neck, and your body feels stiff and frail. You try not to think about how hungry you are.

“Quiet. We’re not trying to tell everyone we’re here.” 

Fear lances through you like a blade. “How many more of you are down here?”

“Oh lambkin, all of us are down here.”

 His tone is snide enough to give you doubt, but the idea of it being the truth frightens you. You stiffen, trying to appear more confident than you are, whispering. “And where is here?”

Satoru glances at you, gesturing for you to follow as he begins striding down the path again. “These tunnels lead to a city deep underground, our solace from the sun. We don’t have to worry about humans as a nuisance down here, just the ones we want to deal with.”

It’s getting more difficult to see; you can barely see Satoru’s silhouette in front of you, and you find yourself clinging to his tunic to keep him from getting too far in front of you. The air is getting heavier too, still smelling of dark and damp, and you find yourself struggling to breathe. “You said this was a forgotten way in?”

“Forgotten by most. Only the outcasts still live near the tunnels, which is why you need to stop raising your voice,” Satoru returns curtly, a pointed edge sharpening his tone. He moves to the left and you realize the tunnel has split off into several different paths. They all look the same to you, and you can’t help but wonder if he really does know where he’s going. 

“Sorry.”

“If you’re sorry, don’t speak until I tell you so.”

Feeling oddly chastised you fall into silence, walking behind him for what feels like hours as he leads you through several twists and turns, more forked pathways, until you’re certain you’re both lost beneath the earth. Throughout it all Satoru never offers you another word.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, you finally tug at his clothing again. “Are you sure you know where we’re going—”

“Who’s there?”

A loud voice echoes off the walls and a warm light flickers suddenly down the tunnel. Satoru gives a soft hiss of irritation, looking side to side frantically before pushing you down a side path that you hadn’t seen in the shadows.

“Not a sound,” he breathes into your ear before he disappears, leaving you alone. The light you’d seen recedes after a moment, pitching you into darkness.

Motionless except for body shaking shivers, your ears strain for whatever sounds you can make out, breaths coming shallow as you come to the conclusion that this is somehow far worse than walking side by side with the unpredictable vampire. 

Your eyes slam shut as a pain filled scream echoes loudly down the tunnel, cut off quickly in an awful retch. You crouch, arms wrapped around your legs in an attempt to make yourself as small as possible. You lean against the damp rock of the wall and try to control your shaking, feeling oddly panicked at the thought that something killed Satoru and now you’re truly alone down here.

Your whole body tenses as your ears pick up the sound of quiet footfall. 

“We’re almost there.” Satoru’s voice washes over you softly, flooding your mind with weary relief that you struggle to reject. You hate the idea of finding yourself dependent on this creature, but you aren’t sure what other choice you have.

He leads you through a couple more dark paths, before you come to a wooden door that’s taller than even Satoru. He pulls it open and ushers you inside a room, lit well with soft candlelight. There’s a bed in the center, but before you can take in much more of the room, you’re jerked back behind your guide.

“Yuuji, what are you doing here?” Satoru’s voice has taken on an uncertain edge for the first time since you’ve met him. You cling to him; he wasn't expecting someone to be here. That can't possibly bode well.

“I came to look in on him and he wasn’t in his chambers. Then I found him here like this. I’ve been waiting for you to come back for two days.” The new voice sounds frightened and angry, and you resist the strange urge to peek from behind Satoru to get a look at him—he sounds just like any of the other young men from your village. He could be Shouta’s age for all you knew. “How could you leave him like this by himself? He’s barely breathing. What happened?”

“I don’t have the time to explain this to you right now—”

“Who’s that?”

You stiffen in fear and Satoru makes a sound of protest, standing taller as if that would hide you from the inquisitive pair of golden brown eyes that peer around his frame to look at you. He has a curious mop of pinkish hair, and an even curiouser sun-kissed complexion. He looks far more muscular than Satoru, a rugged beauty to the taller’s fair.

You shrink back as this Yuuji makes a low sound of exclamation. “Why do you have a human girl with you?”

“I will explain later,” Satoru hisses impatiently, finally shouldering his way around the stocky younger male. “For now you need to leave.”

“I won’t.” Yuuji’s eyes flash, a bolt travelling up your spine at the crimson color that quickly fades back to brown, making you wonder if you truly saw it. Satoru tenses at your side, his grip on your arm tightening until you wince in pain and he immediately slackens again. “Not until Megumi wakes up.”

Satoru seems to be weighing something in his mind, but after a moment he releases a frustrated sigh. “Fine, you may stay. But you must keep this to yourself. If your brother hears of this I won’t forgive you.”

“Okay,” Yuuji responds, curiosity heavy laden in his voice. He glances at you speculatively and your fear rises to a high point as Satoru drags you towards the man prone on the bed until you’re staring down at a man you can only describe as lovely.

The first thing you note, strangely, are his eyelashes: dark and thick and full, long enough to cast a shadow over regal cheekbones. His hair is as dark as raven down and matted with sweat, and his lips look soft despite being a little cracked and dry. His skin is pale; not fair like Satoru’s but rather sickly, and you note his shallow breathing and the dark circles beneath his eyes. He truly looks as if he is resting at death’s door.

This is the deadline prince? You’re so caught up in his poor health that you almost forgot your role here. You startle as Satoru takes your arm and turns it, a small bronze dagger in his other hand. 

“It will be over quickly, Rumi,” Satoru says quietly and your breath is in your throat as he takes the blade across the soft skin of your forearm. You whimper in pain as crimson pools out of the wound.

“Satoru?” Yuuji questions, pupils expanding as the scent of blood fills the small room. You blanch at the hungry expression sharpening his face.

Drops of blood drip down onto the sleeping man’s face, his lips, and Satoru watches him raptly, with a desperation you don’t want to see. The memory of Satoru’s psyche flickers like hot coals in the back of your mind.

“She’s his blood match,” Satoru whispers softly, sounding reverent as Megumi’s lashes begin to flutter.

There’s a beat of silence so tangible that it’s as if you’re choking on it.

“That’s not possible,” the other protests sharply, his expression torn. “You must be mistaken—”

“Don’t question me. I would not have gone through all this trouble if I weren’t certain,” Satoru snaps, cold and harsh.

Yuuji is shocked into silence, stepping closer to the bed to watch.

Your arm throbs as more blood pours down, your lashes clumping with tears you’re too exhausted to stop from falling. Still, you shriek as hands close tightly around your arm and yank you downwards, your knees landing heavily in surprisingly soft down bedding. You catch a glimpse of gleaming emerald eyes before you begin screaming in earnest, the prince’s teeth buried in your open wound. He rips the wound wider and you’re greeted with the horrid sensation of his tongue laving at the gap in your flesh. 

“Megumi, no!”

“Satoru—she’ll die!”

Your eyes roll back and your ears are bathed in what appears to be the shouts of Satoru and Yuuji rushing to restrain the feral vampire who is all but trying to tear your arm from your body. Your consciousness swims out of reach as you succumb to the pain and blood loss, expedited by your fatigue from the rushed travels. Darkness mercifully claims you and you go willingly into its embrace, simply ready for this nightmare to end.

You drift in and out to the sound of voices, to the crackling of a fire, and people moving around nearby. Your entire body aches and your arm is on fire, swathed tightly in cloth. Your lips feel cracked and you desperately need water, but a deep unease and even deeper fatigue keeps you from announcing your consciousness. Your eyes remain closed.

“I’m not sure how fond of her you’ll be, she’s quite a terror,” Satoru sniffs delicately. “Defied me every step of the way—ran from me, twice!”

“Why would she run from you if she…” Megumu trails off tiredly before a few moments pass and his voice drops in irritation. “Satoru, I thought she agreed to come.”

“She did! After some encouragement,” Satoru defends easily.

Megumi groans and there’s the sound of wood creaking, as if someone sat heavily. “And I suppose your encouragement came in the form of no soft threat, now didn’t it?”

“It might have.”

“Tell me exactly what happened.” It’s no request, it’s a flat demand with no compromise—a true tone of royalty.

Their voices flit softly between each other as Satoru recounts the scene from your bedroom, broken by clarifying questions from Megumi. It’s strange to hear even pieces of it retold; it already feels like a memory from another life. You’re not even a little bit surprised to hear him glossing over just how harshly he spoke to you at times, or softening details to his own benefit. In fact, you rightly expect that behavior of him by now.

“Curse you.” The prince sighs in defeat after everything is recounted.

Satoru chuckles. “I’ll take to threatening some poor little human girl and her village over your death, now and every time.”

“You do realize,” Megumi drawls, satiric amusement laced with sharp annoyance, “that at no point did you promise her her life. You didn’t explain or even mention the blood match. For all she knew, death was all that awaited her. And you fault her for clinging to life? I would have run from you too. You never think, Satoru.”

Satoru scoffs. “You tried to kill her the moment I got her to you. If Yuuji hadn’t been here, you might have succeeded. He restrained you while I kept her alive. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so…brutish.”

Confusion swims brightly to the surface of your foggy consciousness. So they don’t intend to kill you? That seems even more unlikely than the white-haired demon treating your wounds. 

“I have no explanation for my behaviour,” Megumi admits reluctantly, a heavy pout to his tone that you imagine is tightening his delicate features. “The moment I tasted her—I wouldn't have believed you about the match if not for the feeling. I've never felt such…”

He trails off, a hush broken only by the crackling of fire stretches between them.

“Her breathing is getting stronger,” Satoru comments casually, as if filling the gap of the other’s unnerved silence. 

There’s a swish of fabric and you feel a hand on your unbandaged arm, too tired to flinch away from the couple of warm fingers pressing into the crook of your elbow.

“But her pulse is getting weaker,” Megumi sighs, frustrated. “We’ll need to call someone to treat her more than you can, Satoru.”

“I’d like to avoid that if possible.”

“If possib—did you hear me?”

They break into a low argument and their change in volume, muttered back and forth to each other, makes it impossible for you to follow further. Satoru says something about your stubbornness, or maybe he’s speaking of Megumi? It matters not, you’re too tired and hungry to concern yourself with any of it. You fall asleep dreaming of a warm stew, maybe rabbit or venison, with countless vegetables and a thick, creamy broth.  

a/n: ok maybe “meet” was a bit of an exxageration lol

Reblogs and kind comments incredibly appreciated <3

© All rights reserved to @ryndicate. Do not modify, translate, or repost.

[serene-sun]

Decided to post some lore behind my ghoulsona/OC!

Warning; raid, fire, mentioned death, character death, hurt/no comfort, mentioned child death/miscarriage, future/present murder, copia breaks down, dad copia

“Shhhhhh…shhhh baby.” There’s a whisper as the windows are banged on, angry yells and the flowing orange light of flame lights up the room.

“Please, don’t hurt us!” Her voice is loud and scared, she puts a hand up to block the flame.

“Sorella.” His voice is low and shaky, “I fear..I fear our time has come to an end.”

Maria shakes, a choked sob leaving her lips, “they’ve come to kill us, haven’t they?”

Copia nods, a tear trailing down his cheek, “they’re trying to hold them off, I’ve gotten a horse at the south keep, together we ca-“

“No, please, take him.” Maria interrupts the man, and holds the waddled infant in her arms to him, “you won’t make it out with a child and a pregnant royal.” She cries, pushing her arms to the man’s chest as he holds the fire torch out in the cold dark cellar.

“Maria…I’m not leaving you.” Copia puts a hand on her side, “if I leave you I- I can’t I just can’t, that’s absurd!”

“Cardinal.” She demanded, a serious expression taking over the usually soft of her face, “take your son.”

Copia freezes, “my?”

Maria sobs again, “I’m sorry, he would be in much danger if..if he was publicized.” She cries, her black dress dirty with leaves and mud.

There’s a loud bang on the cellar door, and the pair panics.

Copia takes the child, and the rosary around the woman’s hand, “maria…if I leave you…you will be killed.”

“I know…please…please take our child and raise him with love.” Maria stands up and hugs both her lover and the child, “I pray that my womb will meet me in the afterlife.”

Copia puts his forehead against hers, “Maria…” the older man chokes on his tears.

Another loud bang is heard on the door, and copia backs away into the shadows.

“I love you.” Maria whispers as the door is swung open.

The man climbs down the hidden staircase, and as he trembles down the dark leaky hallway he breaks down at the sound of a scream.

Copia falls to his knees, water spreading a cross his black clothes. Copia lets out a muffled moan of disparity as he mourns the sounds above him. He breaths heavy, and tears drop onto the infants face.

“Please…please have mercy on her soul.” Copia gabbed the crucifix around his neck, and pressed it to his lips.

“I’ll protect you with my life, stjerne.”

[light-everything-in-pink]

OK, since you've asked. Out of all the chaos RP aus that you have which one is your favourite, which one is the most developed and which one you'd like to set on fire and watch it burn for centuries long?

*deep breath. Starts going thru my trash hoard*

(also TW at the end: death threat to myself)

Alright, alright. I got favorites, I got mehs, I got "it's alright", and I got OH MY GOG WHY DAVE WHY

It is to my deepest dissapointment that the same AU that I had first shown to this fandom is no longer my most developed. Sorry Broomstown Redux/WTPB/POLI, but you felt like RCP + Lore + Angs rn. Worry not, I'll fix you someday.

SOMEDAY.

For real tho, WTPB/BR is still my favorite. Where I got my Blonde!Helly headcanon from, and also badass Helly, Roy being cheesy with flirting, Poli and Jin being actually related to some extent, and...SHIPPING. Still struggling over it rn actually.

For most developed, it's gotta be Modfall: a hodgepodge of my Homestuck obssession and RCP. Basically, it just started as Mod Ten, then Modded Twelve, then more lore and timeline fuckery = Modfall itself.

So far, I've got about a dozen of teenager archetypes, Homestuck classpecting and analyses, sketches of characters (including a new art style for this), and hypothetical scenarios laid out...and also the timeline. Homestuck got a fucked-up one, so why not have my own fuckery?

Also had to omit and alter a lotta people, including my own OC South (sorry my transmasc femboy gal, but I gotta use Homestuck OCs for Homestuck AUposting). I'm also figuring out on Helly's own...relationships, because surprise surpsrise he's a teenager in this AU (although the youngest one, the oldest bordering 17)

Got a lotta to talk about Modfall, but anything else is spoiler content. But just as you know: Helly and Droney are bestie soulmate thingy (aka (online) moirails) in this AU. There shall be homosexuality. There shall be trans-shanigans. There shall be casual death and another Poli to put in my body count.

And there shall be a ship both sunken and sailed at the same time. As in, Timeline A sunk, Timeline B sailed kinda thing.

As for what I wanna burn to the ground, besides the things I did with my...sexual drive exploration? And also my first FNF era?

At first, I thought of my first AU for WTPB (aka Alpha/Beta), where it's 1) an FNF mass displacement crossover, 2) transfem Helly with no rhyme or reason...and shipping him with a 17-year-old FNF character (why me why), and 3) Poli got the Bill Cypher defeat ending going on.

But....hey....I had no black sheep?! Even that Alpha/Beta is an artifact to remind me of progress, and my FIRST EVER AU literally jumpstarted my love for AUs and crossovers!

Infinite Loops/IFP!RCP: Hey—

FUCK OFF. GO KYS. PLEASE DIE. WHY DO YOU EXIST. GO TO FANFICTION HELL YOU UNFINISHED AND UNAPPROVED [TOO DIRTY FOR TUMBLR]. WHY ARE YOU HERE YOU [NOPE NOPE NOPE]. PLEASE DROWN UNDER MEMORIES ABOUT TO BE ERASED.

IFP!RCP: *whimpers*

Sorry about that...haha!

Sorry for that random "kys" thing. Idk why I even joined IFP beyond crossovers.

[uberhood]

Worldbuilding/Lore/Notes Masterpost

...and I said I was gonna keep it simple this time.

Okay so here's a quick outline of what ~the world of this Uberhood~ looks like, because everyone has different headcanons about Sim geography (fuck, mine vary save file to save file!) Any other notes about worldbuilding will go here eventually.

The World

SimNation

Most of the action in this game takes place in SimNation, a prosperous but messy country located in SimEarth's Western hemisphere. SimNation is divided into four states:

Sim State, aka: "the green one". The eastern end of SimNation is dominated by SimCity, aka Downtown, and its suburbs; the western side of Sim State is mostly rural farming communities.

Notable towns in Sim State include:

SimCity/Downtown (capital)

Desiderata Valley

Riverblossom Hills

Three Lakes

Shady Shores

Sim State University

South State, aka: "the orange one." The southwest end of SimNation, mostly full of deserts and secrets. If something crazy happens in SimNation, it's usually happening in South State. However, because of the dark skies and plethora of fossils, South State is also where many colleges in SimNation are located.

Notable towns in South State include:

Copperhead City (capital)

Strangetown

Widespot

Sedona

Natosi

La Fiesta Tech

Cactus Canyon University

Land Grant University

Quaddington University

Sea State, aka: "the one with the palm trees". The west coast of SimNation, home to celebrities, dirty secrets, family feuds, and ever so much drama.

Notable towns in Sea State include:

Belladonna Cove (capital) (not featured in this save)

Pleasantview

Veronaville

Caelestis University

Swamp State, aka: "the one with the swamps". Swamp State is the southeast end of SimNation, and it is warm, humid, and full of untapped opportunity.

Notable towns in Swamp State include:

Bluewater Village (Capital)

Magic Town

--

The Tri-State Area is Sim State, South State, and Sea State. Most sims in Sim-Nation live in the Tri-State Area.

The Rest of the World

Notable locations in the rest of the world include:

Takemizu Village

Felicity Island

Twikki Island

Academie Le Tour

Space

The place where no one can hear you scream. Notable communities in Space include:

Moonbase Apollo, SimNation's first lunar colony.

Aileen Landing, SimNation's first space colony.

Sixam, the place where Pollination Tech #9 and his brethren come from.

Groxholm, a mysterious planet that Sixamians speak of with dread and terror.

[betterbooktitles]

My wife and I got married in the Hamptons of Cleveland, a small gated community an hour south of Buffalo called the Chautauqua Institution. A year later, steps from where we had danced to a Beatles cover band, someone stabbed Salman Rushdie. 

I worry Chautauqua will be known for that attack someday. When I tell a friend where we were married, will I see their face change in subtle recognition? Will it become like saying you went to Columbine High School but graduated years before the shooting?

Probably not. The Chautauqua lore is so rich that it’s unlikely to be known for any single event. It’s been praised by the New York Times for being a spiritually and intellectually satisfying retreat, and bashed in the New York Times for its Boys’ and Girls’ Club, the oldest children’s day camp in the country, one that still separates the sexes. 

“Chautauquas,” according to the first few pages of Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance once littered the United States. Intellectuals toured the country giving lectures during the Lyceum Movement, an experiment in adult education for the masses. Chautauqua, New York was the flagship community and is also one of the few Chautauquas that has survived.

An entire page of my sophomore American History textbook was devoted to Chautauqua. Writers, politicians, comedians, and essayists all traveled on the lyceum circuit to get their message out to the world. William Jennings Bryan was likely the most exciting speaker, a man who I first heard about in the play Our Town where the Stage Manager excitedly tells the audience that “Bryan once made a speech from these very steps here.” Thanks to my family’s yearly vacations in Chautauqua, I too had seen some steps where Bryan had once made a speech. Exciting stuff. I was walking through a page of my history textbook every summer.

Though I knew the place was somewhat famous, Chautauqua’s history often seemed embellished. Once, a nice white-haired lady walking past me on the road, unprompted, pointed at a patch of grass beyond the institution’s fence and said “You know, Amelia Earhart landed her plane on that golf course once.” Sure she did, lady. Then a few days later, I’d found myself in the Chautauqua library staring at a giant black-and-white photo of Amelia Earhart standing on the Chautauqua golf course. It’s near a few photos of FDR in front of the Chautauqua Opera House. 

It’s difficult to describe Chautauqua to the uninitiated. I happily let my wife describe it for others whenever the subject comes up: “It’s the set of Dirty Dancing.” Aside from the fact that it’s not in the Catskills and the spirit of the place is a little more centered on intellectual/spiritual edification, it is exactly like the set of Dirty Dancing, complete with a treelined lake, an enormous hotel, and a house full of actors and dancers at one end of the grounds who let loose, partying every night to the wee hours (10 PM) when everything in the Institution closes and strict quiet hours are enforced. Women can even take Ballroom Dance classes with young men, though I get the sense that both parties are a little more puritanical than Swayze and his students. Unfortunately, also like the movie, thanks to a few speakers from the Heritage Foundation, there are also several Chautauquans who like Ayn Rand.

For the kids who grew up going to Chautauqua every summer, it was a giant playground. We went during Week Five of the season consistently and became fast friends with anyone our age. Boys’ and Girls’ Club hours went from 9 AM to noon, and from 2 PM to 4 PM so parents could attend talks or a pottery class while the kids were playing dodgeball and rehearsing for Air Band (a lip-syncing competition for all club attendees). Because the Institution is safe compared to nearly every place people visit from, the kids roam free. They have carte blanche to do whatever they please during daylight hours. We biked, ate mountains of ice cream, or played ping pong for hours when we weren’t at club playing GaGa Ball, a game where you hunched over and used your hands to hit your opponents’ ankles with a volleyball.

Read more here.

[theblackbookofarkera]

Aenod Republic

The Aenod Republic in Tyrenium is a nation of modest size and great economic power. For centuries merchants from the Aenod Republic dominated trade on the Black Mirror Sea, their power only increased with the formation of the Sharoo Magyar Alligium. The roots of the Alligium are in the ancient merchant houses of the Aenod Republic, some of which go back tens of centuries.

A series of wealthy city states the Aenod Republic is ruled by the Convention of Esmuhkiram which is made up not only of the aristocratic families but high ranking priests and merchants. Some foreigners find the prospect of a land not ruled by a monarch appealing but I can assure you things in the Aenod Republic are no different than in other nations. In a nation bursting with wealth shockingly little of this prosperity trickles into the dirty hands of the common folk.

A nation of sickening extravagance the rich revel in grotesque pleasures while filth runs in the streets and slaves toil in misery. The economy is heavily dependant on slave labor making the republic the largest importer of slaves on Arkera. The peasants of the republic like to think themselves better than the throngs of foreign slaves brought to their cities, it does not take a sorcerer to see there is scant difference between the two.

Aenod is not a militarily aggressive nation but does maintain a professional army and robust navy. The largest threats to the republic come from their ancient rival to the south, the Vestriga Empire and the ever expanding nation of Urakkad.

Beneath the great cities of the Aenod Republic are underground caverns sealed off by the sorcerers of long dead Chorin. Loremasters who have studied the Old World lore of the legion speak of legends of men with faces covered in thick matted hair who worshipped a pulsing black heart deep within the earth.

“The barbarians that surround us have declared our civilization dead! They claim it is by luck alone we prosper. They say we do not deserve the wealth and beauty of our lands! We are the chosen sons of the Old Masters, we will one day rise beyond their greatness to new heights of wonder! The world be damned! The barbarians will kneel before great the Republic or be cast into the depths of Hakasis!”

-Archon Cleopyx Minetra of Parsalion

[theparadiseproject]

Superman could spare to spend more time dealing with dirty political work and mobsters and helping underprivileged citizens. They should fill his earthly lore with as many human characters as they can. Give Metropolis some life outside of Lex Luthor or just being the most advanced city. Show us corrupt government officials, the poorer side of the city, etc. Throw some life and character in there outside of just being this city of high tech and advancement and weird alien phenomenon. Show us the type of worldly connections that could lead Superman fighting corrupt politicians in South America after he followed them for a lead as a journalist. In fact emphasize that he is a journalist and a really good one.