#it's a blood disease/genetic curse/what have you

[storm-called]

thinking of the hilarity of having a charr who is also a werewolf

like, you're already a hulking "beast" with animal like features, but like, dog instead of cat

[ellzilla]

Had a hell of a time trying to upload this lmao. Doodles to accompany a ramble about my silly horrorverse/metathesiophobia/worldbuilding ramble that's very large so it's under the cut. It's as much Ella lore as it is Elliot lore :3c there might be some grammatical errors but idc I've tried to upload this 7 times now and don't wanna reread it lol

"Most organizations classify them as extinct, caused by villages hunting them and a lethal mutation in the survivors saliva, there are theories there are a few hidden surviving members, their numbers being merely in the single digits. Lycanthropy is not a 'one size fits all' type of curse/disease/parasite, it's classification is still being debated today, and it adjusted both according to it's host and to it's surroundings when it developed.

Before the lethal mutation, an infected person's lycanthropy could vary extremely in the first few months as it got a grasp on what was a normal environment for the individual. All recorded cases fit the 'true' werewolf classification. For people who gained Lycanthropy through genetics, bloodline werewolves, a vast majority were only slight variations of the 'true' werewolf.

-

The 'true' werewolf was most rampant back in the medieval ages, up until the mid 1800's, as to the Lycanthropy it was the peak time one could live 'naturally' and also a lack of constant danger while also having a sense of community. Although they were still bloodthirsty monsters, they held themselves back from ravaging people their host knew and hunted only strangers, even avoiding children if the host's morals were strong enough. They only hunted what they needed for the night, a person or two at most. True werewolves had very mild control of their curse, only being able to transform on command in dangerous situations. These transformations were relatively quick, taking less than 20 seconds, but remained agonizing as let the host take control until they were able to calm down in a safe area.

Sometimes an extreme burst of negative emotion could make part of their body rapidly transform to physically deal with the source of the stress, but it would result in the skin tearing due to the speed of it. Lycanthropy will only rip itself apart when it senses an emergency, a knee-jerk reaction if you will, to something in front of it. The last recording of a 'true' werewolf was in 20██, █████, Australia, however she had been found dead in her home. The cause of death was blood loss, caused by a silver laced bullet wound. For details about this report, please send a request to Dr. A. Whitelock.

-

Socialite werewolves are an extremely modern and elusive mutation of Lycanthropy. They are the sole reason the theory lycanthropes could still be alive today holds any water. Unlike 'true' werewolves, who could be anyone, all Socialite werewolves have been people who have lived in lavish luxury for the important developmental years in a bloodline werewolf's life. They are physically the weakest recorded mutation. The main theory for this is that the Lycanthropy adapted to learn that social power among regular humans is far more valuable for survival than hunting them for sport and changed to make transformation less intensive and more 'suitable' for it's new survival strategy. They were able to transform in around ten seconds on average, one recorded process shows them morphing with little to no pain visible on their face. The host confirmed that the Socialite werewolf's transformation is far less painful by saying: "A muscle cramp is only a touch more painful." This has enabled the few recorded individuals to amass groups around themselves, as they all publicized their lycanthropy. Most simply saw them as role-players with good 'fur suits' due to the fact the host's hair style remains unchanged while turned.

The last recorded socialite werewolf was in 19██, a popular rock star who had unfortunately overdosed on theobromine, the news had covered it as a 'normal' drug overdose and were forced forge it as a cocaine OD.

-

Brute werewolves are a debated topic, as some think we should classify them as Werebears instead, but all recovered remains confirm that their bone structure was far closer to a wolf than a bear's.

They are also debated to be a separate anomaly all together as they were initially thought to be a prehistoric megafauna before the bones were carbon dated to be only a few hundred years old. The term 'werewolf' was only applied to these bones upon the recovery of a library curated by a 'true' werewolf back in 1874.

According to literature in the library that claims to be history, Brute werewolves were thought to be lycans who had gone mad or were born to an accursed mother. Additional notes glued to the book claimed that they were simply those in the bloodline who had been tormented for a prolonged period of time, through they admit the 'cursed mother' could be part of it. Brute werewolves were described to be barbaric, rabid beasts that would rip apart anything with a heartbeat in front of them, only being satisfied when it had gorged itself on fresh meat and then some. There are drawings of Brute werewolves fighting packs of 'true' werewolves and descriptions of Brute werewolves being the cause of many deaths.

Despite the descriptions diminishing them as low intelligence beasts, they were said to speak in wails, attracting anyone to try to help the supposed person in danger, unknowing that they were the person in danger themselves.

Their transformations were said to be horrific as bone popped skin that ripped off muscle, their size was far to large to properly form from a regular human body. It is described to be a 'painfully long' process, so we assume it took over a minute for them to fully transform.

There has never been a case of an alive Brute werewolf, let alone a fresh corpse. We believe that if they are truly a mutation of Lycanthropy, they were the fist subsect to go extinct due to their heightened aggression that would have made it impossible to survive within the past 200 years. We hope that is the case."

7- █ - 202█ - Author Dr. Abigail Whitelock. Sources - ██████ - ██████████ -██████

[powderblueblood]

I wonder how Lacy would react if Eddie ever read her journal 👀 Like if he ever happened upon it accidentally. I'm picturing a full on nuclear explosion. Scorched earth. That kind of thing.

ANON YOU BETTER FUCKING---!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

oh, it's the end of the goddamn world, as far as she's concerned.

like, she's comfortable enough with him that she eventually leaves it sort of kind of lying around right-- except for, not really, eddie does pinch it out of her bag. he does a really good job of sneaking excerpts when she's out of the room, and that shit gets addictive.

starts like this-- she's researching something (shit, maybe it's even hellfire club, who knows, not me) for the streak and eddie's like, "what the hell is she even scribbling about in here all the time..."

first of all, she's got imperceptibly tiny spy-level cursive that he feels like he needs a magnifying glass to read properly but with a little squinting and a little spirit, he's getting places.

and the places. are. crazy.

"what the fuck are you doing."

he hears her voice from the door of the drama room, and it is like he's been caught red handed with his first stolen copy of penthouse all over again (i'll let you guess who caught him-- because it wasn't wayne and it wasn't al, but she does live in forest hills trailer park). heart hammering, brain scrambling.

lacy, for her part, is red hot tip to toe. curiosity killed the cat, right, but she is going to skin eddie munson and make a coat out of him.

"lacy-- now, lacy, let's not--"

"asked you a question. i asked you a question, munson."

she moves fast but he's faster (used to scampering; he has rat blood).

"i have questions for the author!"

"i have a bullet with your name on it!"

"it says here that steve harrington is the kind of guy that would proclaim to love pussy as a pushback to his chauvinistic past, but would keep fingering you in the wrong hole-- care to comment!"

"i was bitter-- it doesn't fucking matter! give it back!"

"nancy wheeler has the intellectual stamina of an american girl doll with a particularly starchy backstory, but at the very least--fuck--at the very least, it means she won't end up like her mother, who almost definitely cashed in on the last of her souring good looks--stop fucking screaming!--to assist in the spread of billy hargrove's petri dish of sexually transmitted diseases! lacy!"

"what?!"

"it's like you've written fucking hawkins babylon!"

she shrieks, because he only knows about hollywood babylon because of her! don't you dare use a woman's cultural touchstones against her!

eddie just about dodges a d20 that's been flung at him with eerie precision.

"okay, that almost got me in the eyeball!"

"good! all the better to not read my fucking journal with, you provincial pigfucker piece of shit!"

"no, no no," eddie says, and he's like up on a table now because the guy loves to be up on a fucking table, holding that journal waaaay above his head, waaaay above where lacy can reach it (short, evil), "i need you to hear my favorite part."

he doesn't even need to read this part from the cursed tome, because it's memorized.

"al munson probably has no bearing on the way eddie munson lives his life, because he's a deadbeat the way his son is destined to be a deadbeat. but the mere genetic suggestion of that piece of shit--you said piece of shit, right?"

lacy stops. stomach dropping.

"--is enough for you to want to cut the brakes in his little boy's van."

a beat. the silence is, like. heavy. eddie stares down at her and she can't meet eddie's eyes. like. at all. she feels-- really bad. mouth all dry. steps off the chair she'd been standing on.

eddie crouches to face her. maybe his ripped jeans strain a little more at the knees, i don't know. he uses the journal to tilt her chin up, to look at him, to face what she's written about him, in paper and ink. (fancy ink. fountain pen ink. paper's not too shabby either.)

her heart is hammering out her chest, body not quite sure how to process guilt like it processes anger or resentment or annoyance or (more recently) laughter.

"lacy," he says, voice husky and serious. "i just have one question."

"... yeah?"

"why didn't you cut my brake lines and kill me when you had the chance?"

and the way the smile breaks over his face (sunrise after months of gloomy winter, yadda yadda yadda), she almost wishes she did.

almost.

"can i hazard a guess?" he's gonna hazard a guess. he flicks to one of the most recent entries and lacy, weakly, tries to slam her hand over the page. this one he's had to read a couple more times to get the gist of it. because this one is really scandalous.

"dear reader," god, what is this? is this his lacy impression? it's awful, "it has taken you less than five weeks to become incapable of imagining your life without--"

"don't," and lacy actually snatches the journal from him this time, clutching it tight to her chest. "if your ego gets any bigger, it'll become cancerous."

or y'know somethin like that

[somniumfaults]

My laptop needs to be fixed, so in the meantime! Here's my Tokyo Debunker OC that I've been working on!! Hehe <3 i love her and have both a drawing and fic wip of her waiting to be finished sometime ^^

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

NAME: Misha

PRONOUNS: she/her

HOUSE: Sinostra (formerly Dionysia)

YEAR: 2nd

BIRTHDAY: May 17th

LIKES: cherries, pain/masochism

BLOOD TYPE: O+

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“Who’s to say there will be tomorrow?”

Sinostra’s much needed second-year healer. Determined to live her life out to its fullest, she won’t take no for an answer, for better or worse. Some of her self-destructive habits worry those around her, but as long as she has no regrets, there’s nothing for her to lose.

Pinterest Outfit References

Taiga/Misha playlist

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Motives: Take advantage of the opportunities you have to make the most of life and never let anyone take them from you. She was placed in Dionysia and transitioned into Sinostra when the house became defunct. Her placement in Sinostra was due to her resolution to be in control of her life no matter what. At the end of the day, she’ll do what she wants to do.

Demon pact: Sick of being chronically ill with an autoimmune disease no one cared enough to look into and the chronic pain, she chose to make a pact with a demon based on her anger at the idea of succumbing to her helplessness and the whims of other people. Her condition was not cured, but it is (almost always) forever at a stalemate as Buer’s ability to heal counteracts the damage done.

Stigma: Uber - can heal ailments* at the expense of an equivalent amount of her own blood

*ailments defined as temporary injuries or conditions. She can’t undo genetic conditions or change your brain chemistry.

Using her stigma allows for her autoimmune condition and chronic pain to reactivate due to the healing properties of her pact being redirected away from her. The more blood it requires, the worse she feels.

Due to the nature of her stigma, she can’t use it on herself because (a) she would be losing blood anyway and (b) accelerating the healing of other injuries would also allow for the acceleration of her autoimmune condition and risk injuring herself further internally.

Artifact: cherry bombs/m-80s

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

❣️ RELATIONSHIPS ❣️

★ Rui ★

Misha → Rui: close friends 🙂 she visits his bar often for some fun drinks and gossip. They partner up sometimes so they can make homebrew hangover medicine and various other quick pick-me-ups. She prefers to use her stigma when he’s around to help offset her pain. They spent a lot of time together in their first year due to being the only two ghouls in Dionysia and work together well. Hearing his voice helps calm her due to the familiarity that it invokes, and she wishes they could still touch each other like they could prior to the curse. She worries that he may be too lonely.

Rui → Misha: close friends! She's his closest friend on campus and one of the few people he truly trusts to voice his grievances to. He isn’t super enthused about their medicinal drink partnership because he knows the side effects on her, but he won’t lie that he likes experimenting with what can be made. Misha is the one who volunteered and pushed to do it though, so he can’t say no. He wishes she would take better care of herself.

★ Haru ★

Misha → Haru: her drinking buddy!! She thinks he’s adorable, especially when he’s all drunk and pouty. She had a fling with him in their first year but now they’re just close friends. She’ll come help out with the park if he really begs and owes her something, because she knows he’ll coax a mile out of her if she gives an inch. She does worry about him though, so it’s not strange to find her stopping by regardless to do small favors for him. Sometimes she sneaks him healing drinks Rui and her made to help give his body a boost rather than just let him down energy drinks. She admires his hard work a lot.

Haru → Misha: his drinking buddy!! He had a crush on her in his first year, but now they’re just friends. He feels bad taking her drinks when he knows they're using her stigma and usually protests if he realizes, but sometimes it's just easier for him to swallow the guilt and take it… He needs it, sometimes. He's a bit sad they didn't end up in the same house for their second year and wishes they could spend more time together. He dislikes that she ended up in Sinostra and is especially unhappy with her relationship and dynamic with Taiga, but he has to swallow his dissatisfaction and concern most of the time because he wants her to be happy. Even though he thinks Taiga doesn't deserve her.

★ Romeo ★

Misha → Romeo: her drinking buddy!! She finds him funny when she’s not the one having to deal with him, and her preferred setting for chatting to him is when they’re both at the bar with a drink. Their interactions can grow tense due to their respective stubbornness and refusal to back down from doing things their own way, but for the most part their day-to-day interactions only get snippy at most. At the end of the day, she respects him and his capabilities even though she disagrees with his attitude most of the time. If there's anyone who is determined to live his life to the fullest at Darkwick, it's Romeo.

Romeo → Misha: she’s frustrating to deal with but capable and more or less reliable, unless she thinks he’s being stupid and in which case she’s an IRB (incorrigible rogue brat). She has good ideas though, and has more drive than Taiga does nowadays, so he doesn’t actually mind her too much. It helps that while they'd never spent personal time together in their first year, it wasn't as if she hasn't already been engaging with and working with Sinostra due to Taiga and her stigma. He definitely abuses calling her whenever he needs help reeling Taiga in. Not that she's the perfect solution, but two people Taiga tolerates and has affection for in his own way is better than one.

★ Taiga ★

Misha → Taiga: they’re in some sort of committed romantic relationship, although it's complicated nowadays. She misses the way he was in his first year; they had interacted a lot because he needed blood in order to use his stigma and her stigma helped a bit with the brain fog side effects. (Although obviously she was not his entire blood source.) Still, despite his mental state clearly having deteriorated, she continues to like him a lot and loves the thrill he brings into her life. It makes her feel alive and in a way, even more in control of her life because the injuries she sustains with and for him are purely by her own choice. (She doesn’t spill blood just for Darkwick. She doesn’t have to heal anyone when she bleeds unless she wants to.) (Also she’s just kind of into it. Even if her brother despairs over her walking into his office with more than just your average hickey.)

Taiga → Misha: he is usually able to remember her at least after a few moments due to their extensive relationship through their first year until now, from work relations to romantic commitment. He finds her presence and voice to be grounding when he’s feeling poor and sometimes when he needs a break from everything, he makes her just sit with him and keep him company as he rests. Over time due to their blood arrangement, she’s become one of the few, if not only, people in his life he feels comfortable being vulnerable and weak around. He likes the feeling of her fingers in his hair. Her blood tastes good to him and he knows he feels better after having some of it (both with or without her stigma), and it's not unusual for him to spontaneously chomp down on her when he’s feeling peckish. Even if she were to protest, depending on his mood he’ll just smirk and/or grumble and say she shouldn't be leaving such a tempting snack out in the open like that then (showing skin).

★ Professor Nicolas ★

Misha → Nicolas: he's her older brother. She’s somewhat detached from him due to their age gap and him having rarely been home when she was younger (thanks Darkwick). Her initial reaction to him was tense and verging on hostile, because she wasn’t expecting to see him at Darkwick and felt betrayed for various reasons. (A) She was upset to see him knowing that he never called home and thought he didn’t care, which not only hurt her but made her angry because their parents missed him. (B) A part of her wondered if this was all his fault and if he planned for this to happen to her and (C) She was angry because if he had just been more present in her life, maybe he could have known about her situation and prevented all this from happening since he had access to superior medical facilities. After a time, she calmed down and forgave him more or less once she realized what the true dynamic/situation of Darkwick was with its staff and students. Now, she’s grown to appreciate his company and appreciate having someone she knows at the school. They have a comfortable relationship even if she finds his concern to be overly fussy at times

Nicolas → Misha: she's his younger sister. He holds some resentment and guilt in his heart towards himself and towards Darkwick for letting her become a ghoul, because he believes he could have stopped it had he been a more involved sibling and realized she was suffering. He also feels guilt towards hearing the confirmation that his family feels abandoned by him, but that’s soothed somewhat by the knowledge that he’s bound by his duties. Although also slightly detached from Misha by virtue of not having been a large part of her life consistently, he cares deeply for her and worries about the choices she makes and the risk of retribution towards her from Darkwick. Even though she's a ghoul and heals quickly, he wishes her and Taiga would show some restraint in breaking her skin or worse. (He doesn't approve of their relationship and dynamic at all, but he's forced to bite his tongue to keep the peace.)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

technically this is still a work in progress bc she's my baby (oc I project onto) and I love thinking about her role in universe and elaborating on her dynamics w diff characters :3 but this is her "final" profile! Thanks for reading all that if you diddddd <3

shout-out and much thanks to @danieyells for their posts compiling info about the houses, stigmas, and more! They carried me a lot in making Misha, and you should definitely check out their posts <3

[dimancheetoile]

uh, hi.

maybe you're seeing this on your dash and thinking "hum, this username is kinda familiar". maybe you do remember me, in which case, again, hi.

i've been gone for an entire year. it hasn't been a great one. for those who read my posts before, you might already know this, but for everyone else, I was born with a rare genetic condition. on top of that, i had a very serious accident at 13 that more or less destroyed my right leg. i haven't been able to walk right since then, and it hasn't been helped by the following years of botched surgeries, complications from the operation, misdiagnosis and medical malpractice. i'm left with a barely functional leg that has a permanently torn set of ligaments, collapsed nerves and debilitating, constant, torturous chronic pain.

then i had a weird relapse of sorts. a bucketful of symptoms. hives and flushing, limbs and joints swelling, rashes, trouble breathing, sudden drops in blood pressure, heart rate above 100 at rest, stomach cramps, nausea, headaches, migraines, chronic fatigue, confusion, memory loss, dizziness and loss of consciousness. it's called MCAS.

i can't describe to you what it's like to never be well. to never wake up in a body that feels right, even just ok. to always have something going wrong, something painful, something that doesn't work right.

i'm hooked up to an oxygen machine twice a day. i wear a compression garment that goes from my ankles up to the tips of my fingers. i have to do two self-injections every month. i live with additional compressive equipment for both my knees, both my ankles, both my wrists, an elbow. i have a machine with electrodes i can put on painful areas to electrocute them and sometimes, it helps with the pain. i have to use pain-relief plasters and poultices a couple times a day.

i have premature arthritis. the arthritis in my back ate all the cartilage of my last three vertebrae (the ones above your tailbones, your lower back) so i'm like a car with no suspensions. my vertebrae are rubbing against each other with nothing in between to protect them, my discs are crushed, i have severe sciatica. chronic light sensitive migraines.

my joints don't hold. since january, I dislocated my left knee leading to a synovium effusion (big pocket of the lube in your joint that gathers and forms a ball and it pushes on your nerves, ligaments, tendons and tissue); i sprained my left ankle and it tore my external ligament and heel ligament. i dislocated a bunch of my fingers multiple times.

oh, i also got diagnosed with endometriosis and PCOS.

i live bedridden now. i have an entire grocery bag of medication sitting by my bed so i can reach it easily. opioids, neuropathic pain medication, anti-inflammatory medication, a medication that completely stops my period.

and that's without mentioning the hours and hours of hospital visits, specialists, family doctors, physical therapists, etc.

i'm gonna be honest. same time last year, i was having a hard time. i had turned 25 in january and moved into my first apartment since uni. it's in the same village as my mom which is the only reason i could live independently. so i was just 25 and all the MCAS stuff was happening on top of everything else and i had this realisation that this was what the rest of my life would look like, but worse, because my disease is degenerative. it gets worse as you age.

so i was just 25 and i realised i had the next 50 to suffer through this and more, and suddenly i didn't want to be here anymore. there was no ideation, it was more a complete break down of my hopes for the future. what was my future going to look like in this cursed body?

anyway, i collapsed under the mental pressure, my health continued to worsen. what i used to be able to do was no so much harder, and sometimes impossible. i was a 25-year-old in a prison of their own flesh. i couldn't deal with the rest of the world, so i cut myself off from it.

i'm doing better now, mentally. physically, it's only gotten worse. as i write this, i'm reaching for my pain meds because everything below my right knee is screaming in agony and i have a splitting headache. this is a good day for me.

thank you, if you've read this far. thank you, if you thought about me even once in the past year. i'm not asking for anything, except maybe to talk with you if you have a similar story. i feel so alone in this hell, it'd be nice to talk to someone.

i love you all.

-mako

[sciencestyled]

A Stake in the Code: Van Helsing's Wild Foray into Bioinformatics

Let me tell you, dear students, about the day I discovered that monsters don’t always lurk in dark castles or foggy graveyards. Sometimes, the most sinister creatures hide in something far more diabolical—data. Yes, you heard me right. While you imagine your brave professor charging through the night, crucifix in one hand, holy water in the other, you must now picture me hunched over a glowing screen, battling spreadsheets and strings of code. How did it come to this, you ask? Well, sit tight, for this tale involves an unfortunate encounter with a conference on modern science, an espresso machine with a grudge, and, of course, Dracula.

It all began when I was invited—lured, more like—to a prestigious science symposium. A splendid opportunity to expose these modern "men of logic" to the perils of the undead, I thought. Instead, I was met with a barrage of jargon, acronyms, and more slides of molecular models than I’d care to recount. I made it through the first day, my senses numbed by an endless stream of buzzwords—"genomics," "data analysis," and, shudderingly, "algorithms." Oh, the horror! I was sure that even a vampire bat would be driven to stake itself in frustration.

However, my despair peaked during a presentation by a rather excitable researcher on a topic called "bioinformatics." Now, I had no idea what kind of nefarious creature this was, but the term "bio" immediately set off my vampire-hunting instincts. Perhaps this was some new breed of blood-sucking pestilence? The researcher, with the fervor of a man possessed, prattled on about deciphering genomes, comparing them to vast tomes of knowledge that could predict diseases, track mutations—essentially, the modern-day grimoire of disease.

I tried to stay awake by guzzling coffee—until the machine itself turned on me. One ill-timed splutter, and I was doused in scorching liquid. As I wiped the caffeine from my waistcoat, it hit me: bioinformatics was a science of tracking. Not just tracking disease, but tracking the malformations of life itself. It was a code, a pattern, a series of markers… much like the bite marks of our nocturnal enemies! If bioinformatics could trace illness, then surely it could predict vampirism—or at least explain why Dracula’s hair had the consistency of damp hay.

My interest piqued, I cornered the researcher after his talk. Through a series of incomprehensible diagrams, I learned that bioinformatics involved massive troves of genetic data, all neatly catalogued and ready to be mined for clues about humanity’s most terrifying afflictions. This was no mere science. This was a battlefield. And as we all know, I have never met a battlefield I didn’t like.

I had found a new crusade. In bioinformatics, I saw the potential to eradicate vampiric curses at their source—by identifying genetic markers long before the first fang ever punctures a jugular. Picture it: no more garlic garlands or holy water showers! Imagine a world where we can pinpoint who is destined to become a creature of the night with a simple blood test. No more guessing whether your charming neighbor is just a night owl or plotting your demise.

Of course, there were skeptics. My students, bless their skeptical hearts, scoffed. "But Professor," they cried, "surely science can’t predict something as mystical as vampirism?" To which I replied, "If it can decode the human genome, it can decode Dracula!" Armed with this newfound knowledge, I plunged headlong into the arcane realms of bioinformatics. Genomes, sequences, databases—they became my prey, and like any great hunter, I stalked them with unyielding determination.

Thus, I resolved to pen my insights. Not just for posterity, but as a rallying cry. For if we can battle genetic ghouls with modern science, perhaps we can rid the world of vampiric plagues once and for all. And so, dear students, I present to you my findings—my digital stake in the dark heart of bioinformatics. Let us see where this madness leads...

[midian-muses]

hello I am curious how Hunter becoming Alex's familiar worked?? I know he died but I'd love to know how vampires get familiars in general and what exactly was the situation that led to it

Okay, this is going to be a long one.

Now that demands a longer explanation of the Hellsing/Dracula lore.

"Why, I myself am an instance of a man who had a strange belief. Indeed, it was no wonder that my friends were alarmed, and insisted on my being put under control. I used to fancy that life was a positive and perpetual entity, and that by consuming a multitude of live things, no matter how low in the scale of creation, one might indefinitely prolong life. At times I held the belief so strongly that I actually tried to take human life. The doctor here will bear me out that on one occasion I tried to kill him for the purpose of strengthening my vital powers by the assimilation with my own body of his life through the medium of his blood, relying of course, upon the Scriptural phrase, 'For the blood is the life.' Though, indeed, the vendor of a certain nostrum has vulgarized the truism to the very point of contempt. Isn't that true, doctor?"

Here, Renfield describes the connection between life and blood (which has been stated several times in Hellsing). Though it is common knowledge that vampires need to drink blood to perpetuate their own existence, it is a common misconception (maintained by the portrayal of vampirism in many modern media as a disease or a genetic condition instead of a curse)  that they gain nutritional value from blood. The fact of the matter is, vampires don't need blood. Vampires need life. Blood is simply the medium through which they acquire it.

I found him sitting in the middle of the floor on his stool, a pose which is generally indicative of some mental energy on his part. When I came in, he said at once, as though the question had been waiting on his lips. "What about souls?"

It was evident then that my surmise had been correct. Unconscious cerebration was doing its work, even with the lunatic. I determined to have the matter out. "What about them yourself?" I asked. He did not reply for a moment but looked all around him, and up and down, as though he expected to find some inspiration for an answer.

"I don't want any souls!" He said in a feeble, apologetic way. The matter seemed preying on his mind, and so I determined to use it, to "be cruel only to be kind." So I said, "You like life, and you want life?"

"Oh yes! But that is all right. You needn't worry about that!"

"But," I asked, "how are we to get the life without getting the soul also?" This seemed to puzzle him, so I followed it up, "A nice time you'll have some time when you're flying out here, with the souls of thousands of flies and spiders and birds and cats buzzing and twittering and moaning all around you. You've got their lives, you know, and you must put up with their souls!"

Here, Seward describes the connection between life and the soul. It's a bit hazy, but it seems that one cannot take a person's life without also taking that person's soul.

The blood is the life!

In Hellsing blood keeps playing a very important role:

Especially if voluntarily given:

The theme gets repeated within the story, and this is basically the summary of it all:

Blood is the currency of the soul, the coinage of life. To suck blood is to make the whole existence of a life one's own.

[kvspade]

Coming up with a magic system for the book I'm writing was a bit of a struggle. I wanted something realistic, that was semi-original and its own thing, not just an excuse to cover plot holes **cough cough** *Star wars* **cough**. It looks really weird out of context, so I'll post that soon but I wanted to share my attempts, and what came up with.

Magic system: Technology Invocation

Languages: Portuguese, English, Khanavoq, Tupi-Guarani languages

"Magic" requires words from Khanavoq to activate, the longer the invocation the stronger, or more effective the result

These words revolve around several element types- yet contrary to a typical magic system, they do not conjure these elements or traditional magic. They are activation words for nanotechnology that's within the tribe-given tattoos. People's genetics are predisposed to certain types so most people can only use one to two types of "magic".

A few people- one from every tribe- have the capability to either learn All Elemental "magic" or all support "magic". Only One per generation can obtain all of both. These people gather 4 times a year to make decisions for the planet's sake, on the events of the planet's eclipses- which are holy days to the people. Perfecting the use of this nanotech allows a person to make full use and efficiency of such, leading to a deeper and stronger effect.

Fire- The element of Power. Perfecting it leads to lightning magic.

Water- The element of Change. Perfecting it leads to ice magic.

Earth- The element of Strength and Variety. Perfecting it leads to Metal magic.

Wind- The Element of Freedom. Perfecting it leads to Storm magic

Nature- The element of Peace and Patience. Perfecting it leads to Life magic.

and Support like

Healing

Blessing

Curses

Physical

and Ranged

Two elements whose tech is only receivable by members of certain tribal blood. Light and Dark, which is only indicative of their tech, and not their moral compass. You can guess the magic.

Light- The Element of Knowledge. Perfecting it leads to Star Magic.

Dark- The Element of Desire. Perfecting it also leads to Star Magic.

The tribes of light and dark are the two that make the final say on the planet's decisions, Their only interest being the good of the planet and its life. This (thankfully) includes the tribespeople, so oppression is rare and swiftly punished.

It is said that one will be born between good and evil, fiction and reality, and in the middle of a galaxy, to a mother and father of mixed-bloods on opposing sides, and will have the capacity for Any and all magics at birth. He will cure all disease, and free the world from those who seek to do it harm.

Guess who our main character is.

[thecinderninja]

Infected

On Ao3 as The_Cinderninja

Two toddlers pushed open the door to their house, laughing at each other. Their laughter died in their throats as the door swung open all the way and they saw their mother lying on the floor, still and unmoving.

Al was in a good mood when he pushed open the door to the dorm he and his brother shared when they were staying in Central. Nothing particularly good had happened to him while he was out, but nothing particularly bad had happened either, and that put him in a good mood. It was a rare occurrence for a day to go by without him and Ed encountering some sort of awful luck.

His mood immediately dropped when the door swung all the way open and he saw Ed lying on the floor. He wasn't sleeping, and he hadn't layed down on purpose. Al could tell from the way he'd landed that whatever he'd been doing at the time, he hadn't been expecting to collapse.

Al could have sworn he felt the heart he didn't have stop.

They ran over to her, crying for her to wake up. While the youngest tried to shake her awake, the eldest had already pulled out a chair from the table and pushed it up against the wall, reaching to grab the telephone and call for help.

Al was beside him in in instant, cradling the smaller boy. "Ed? Ed! Wake up!" But the little alchemist was pale and showed no signs of stirring. "Ed!"

Al knew he really ought'n't panic. But that was hard to keep in mind when he was holding his unconscious brother who for once, had no reason to be that way. But he managed it away. Still holding Ed, he found the room's telephone and found himself dialling Mustang. He didn't know why – it was just the first number to come to mind that he knew from memory.

He very nearly cursed as his large, leather gloves made him repeatedly misdial,but he eventually got through.

When they first found her, they thought she was dead. It came as a relief at first to learn that she wasn't, but the relief was short lived. She had a blood disease, apparently. Treatment was expensive, and didn't have very good chances of working, even if you had the money. They didn't, anyway.

"So?" Al asked, impatiently, yet still somehow remaining his quiet politeness. "Do you know what's wrong with him?"

"It would appear to be a genetic disease. A blood disorder."

"No." Al breathed quietly.

"Do you know if your family has any history of-"

"No!" Al announced, more forcefully. "It's not that."

"Ahuh?" The doctor questioned, intelligently.

"It's not that!" He repeated. "Go check again, because you're wrong. It isn't that."

The doctor stared at him a moment before scurrying off, choosing not to contradict the imposing suit of armor currently overriding his medical expertise.

"It can't be."

Two toddlers sat by their mother's bedside. One cried, and cried, and cried. The other sat silently and glared at anyone who got too close to him. But he never glared at his mom, not once. Not even when she wouldn't wake up to stop Al's crying. He hopped up and pulled his chair closer to Al's, so he could hold him. The younger brother grabbed his shirt and kept crying.

Al didn't leave his brother's side once. He had no reason to, and no one could make him. He didn't need to take breaks to eat or use the bathroom. He didn't need to shower or to sleep. And one look at the armor combined with a quick word from Mustang kept the hospital staff from even considering asking him to leave. No force on this Earth could get Alphonse to move from where he sat.

He was stoic, silent, and unmovable during the busier parts of the day, but the night nurses had all had a chance to hear the small, pathetic noises that came from the giant suit of armor.

She didn't wake up. She didn't even stir. She was completely still and silent. Some days, she would open her eyes. Sometimes what she said to the boys made sense. Sometimes, it was complete nonsense, and it frightened them.

An automail hand suddenly grabbed his own leather hand, and tightly. Al jolted, startled, and looked at his brother hopefully. Ed's eyes were open and focused on him, but confused. "...Huh? Where are we? This doesn't look like... like..." Ed trailed off, frowning. "Where are we?" He repeated. His eyes were closed again before Al could answer his question.

Ed's eyes were wide open, but they were staring unseeingly at the ceiling. "He- he's my little brother – he's all I have left!" A distraught sound came from somewhere inside the hollow armor as Al reached out and stroked Ed's hair until he drifted off again.

Ed groaned and blinked a few times. "Ah... a hospital? Aah, what'd I do this time?" He frowned, puzzled, before his eyes wandered over to Al, and he grinned. "Hey, Al." He tried to lift his fist to bump Al's armor, but found he didn't have the strength to lift the metal limb. He stared at it blankly for a minute before going back to sleep, untroubled.

"Who're you callin' so small even a flea needs glasses just to see 'im?" Ed wondered out loud, quietly, with more curiosity then fire. He was making eye contact with Al. Al sighed.

Ed pushed himself into a sitting position, despite Al's protests, and stared at his brother. His eyes were bright and clear. "Al, listen to me. I'll get over this. It'll take more then some stupid sickness to keep me down. I still have to get your body back, you hear me?" He just kept staring until Al nodded. "Good. Cause that's a promise."

"When's dad coming back?" he asked quietly.

They were both there when it happened. In fact, they were the only ones there. Ed and Al had both fallen asleep on the bed, curled up beside their mother. Ed woke up first, and he knew right away that the room was too quiet – too still. Even more so then it had been. He grabbed his mother's arm, and it was ice cold. All he'd had to do was look at her eyes and he'd known. There's a certainty in dead eyes that even the most ignorant child couldn't ignore. He'd screamed for her anyway, and his shouting had woken Al up.

When Al realized, he'd started crying and wailing again. The commotion had brought in the other adults – the lady-nurse who was staying in the house and Granny – and they'd eventually had to pry the boys away from the body when it became obvious they had no intentions of ever letting go.

[whumpsday]

Here is a barrage of worldbuilding questions about blood for the k&j universe because I am a hopeless worldbuilding nerd

Has Bellamy (or other vampires who want ethical blood) ever looked into trying to research/fund research for artificial/synthetic blood? Just something I thought of. I know *realistically* it would either not be possible at all, or not be possible yet, but I'm curious to what extent Bellamy and others might have considered it (irl, we have some things that are coming close to working, but aren't quite there. I went down a weird science rabbit hole earlier).

And kinda related, ik that animal blood does nothing for them. Are you operating with a science-fiction (there's genetically something that ONLY human blood has, not even close cousins like chimps) explanation, or more of a magical/supernatural explanation?

Finally, when vampires describe certain people's blood tasting better or worse, is it due to like blood type, or something else? And would medical stuff (if the human wasn't taking meds) affect the taste (for example, autoimmune diseases, when untreated, often lead to much higher inflammation markers in the blood).

Has Bellamy (or other vampires who want ethical blood) ever looked into trying to research/fund research for artificial/synthetic blood?

not bellamy specifically, he's always been more skilled in the humanities and arts and communications than hard sciences. others have tried, but within canon it's impossible. if you'd like some more looks into this in an au where it's not impossible, check out Magnamious Moonrise & Savage Sunset!

Are you operating with a science-fiction (there's genetically something that ONLY human blood has, not even close cousins like chimps) explanation, or more of a magical/supernatural explanation?

squarely the latter, supernatural. that's why there's no loopholes. consider it a curse, a price for near-immortality.

Finally, when vampires describe certain people's blood tasting better or worse, is it due to like blood type, or something else?

blood type would have an effect, but is not the sole reason. it's just the same reason different people have different tastes in food: everyone's different!

And would medical stuff (if the human wasn't taking meds) affect the taste

depends, but generally yes.

[wuxiaphoenix]

Worldbuilding: Heterozygote Advantage

One of the interesting facets of how DNA works on Earth is, so long as you’re one of most eukaryotic organisms, you generally have two separate copies of each and every gene in your genetic makeup.

There are, of course, exceptions.

See the sex-determining chromosomes in mammals, and the completely different ones in birds. Not to mention some weird triploid fish and amphibians. And archaea and prokaryotes have their own bizarre stunts; check out bacterial plasmids for some interesting stuff, including why some varieties of E. coli are downright deadly. But most of the time, this holds. Two sets of chromosomes, giving the possibility of two different alleles for each gene.

Like most parts of life, this has its ups and downs. You might have two copies of the same allele (homozygous), meaning if the protein or RNA produced is good, you’re good - but if it’s not, you’re screwed. See a lot of cheetah populations, ow. If, however, you’re a member of a larger population with more variety, you’re very likely to have two different alleles (heterozygous). Which could be good, bad, or neutral. Or mostly just ignored, until it’s suddenly very important indeed. Like blood types. Most of the time they don’t matter; so long as you’ve got healthy blood circulating you’re good. But then you run into cases of transfusions, or epidemic disease, and your blood type matters a lot.

For the record blood type O seems to have a better resistance than others to smallpox and a few other crowd diseases, but is more vulnerable to cholera. Roll the dice.

Cholera and malaria seem to have selected for heterozygote advantage in humans. At least, we are darn near sure malaria infections selected for sickle-cell genes and a few other blood mutations. We’re less sure on cholera and dysentery selecting for cystic fibrosis genes, but the fact that defective gene pops up so frequently seems to indicate there was selective pressure to keep it in the gene pool.

Here’s where your worldbuilding should come in, if you’re of a biological mindset. Fantasy or SF, there should be some interesting selective pressures on your creatures and your characters’ populations. Low gravity? Bet your characters need more RBCs and oxygen-uptake capacity, look into high-altitude populations for what might thrive. High mana exposure? Certain groups might be extremely magic-resistant, unable to use magic but also shaking off curses like rain. Others might be very sensitive to magic, for better or worse. Still others might have an aptitude, or resistance, to specific types of magic. (See elemental benders.)

And if you cross two different races, or species, all bets should be off. See the mule - universally acknowledged to generally be smarter, tougher, and stronger than either horses or donkeys. Just (usually) sterile. Of course, you could ignore this completely; humans tend to have ways of getting around limitations. But it might be interesting to contemplate, oh, why some space colonies work, and others don’t; or how a vampire can prey on a whole town and yet only a few bodies rise....

[lifeinslowmo]

Killer Pain

October 6, 2023

I don’t want to live like this, but I don’t wanna die.

Vampire Weekend, Harmony Hall

I take pride in very few things, and this isn’t me trying to be humble. I am just not good in a lot of things. I can’t play any musical instrument. I thought I was going to fail high school PE because I was terrible at volleyball. I don’t bake. I don’t know how to juggle. I can’t swim. And although I haven’t really tried, I am fairly certain that I am incapable of learning how to play chess.

But, as I said, there are a few things that I am proud of, and those that immediately come to mind are not inborn traits or natural talents—they cannot be attributed to genetics.  They’re more about choices I make, such as my taste in music and my sense of humor. I know being funny and liking a particular song are quite subjective, and as opposed to say, being a computer whiz or a dog whisperer, they have no practical use and do not contribute to the overall good of humanity.  So, let’s move on to something that is at least useful—even if only for me. 

I take pride in having a high tolerance for physical pain.

This became evident in the few encounters I have had with doctor’s needles and dentist’s drills. I never cried, cursed, nor plotted revenge on those who inflicted pain. When 5 test tubes of blood had to be extracted from me for a research study on Parkinson’s, the nurse who was doing the extraction was more nervous than I was. ( I had to calm him down because he was breathing so heavily, he looked like he was about to faint.) Why, even the girl who occasionally threads my eyebrows has commended my tolerance for pain!

I think I was in my early 20s when I felt a searing pain on my foot. Then, to my horror, it started swelling like a balloon. By then, I was writhing, and stifling screams. My dad saw me and brought me to a nearby hospital.  After a brief examination, the ER doctor gave me an anti-tetanus shot, which worked wonders.  Apparently, I had a small foot wound that got infected, probably because I scratched it. I don’t know if he was exaggerating or not, but the doctor said that if we had waited any longer, the infection could have spread, and they would have considered amputation. My dad replied that he knew it was time to bring me to the hospital when he saw me crying from the pain, which he said I would never do unless absolutely called for.

In case there is any misunderstanding, what I am calling my 'tolerance for pain ' has nothing to do with my reserve of physical strength or inner fortitude. It’s more of an “it is what it is” attitude. Pain is only as big a deal as you make it.

Or so I thought.  

I have been diagnosed with PD more than ten years ago, and since then, the pain that comes with the attacks has been slowly but surely becoming more intense. In an attempt to let my friends (bless their concerned hearts) understand what I am going through, I have come up with descriptions such as:

It’s as if a giant corkscrew is inside my thigh and is twisting all my muscles into knots.

Imagine feeling the weight of a steamroller slowly running over your legs. And while you are rendered helpless and immobile, it comes back to do the same thing all over again.

It’s like having cement poured all over your body, and you’re trying to walk around in a full body cast.

What makes it even worse is that during an attack. I have a hard time breathing.  When this happens, I panic and have an even harder time, gasping frantically for air. Morbid thoughts run through my mind: can pain kill? Can a person die, not from a disease, nor a wound, but solely from pain?

Needless to say, I am not handling it well at all.

“Hindi iyan ibibigay ng Diyos kung di mo kaya.”  This is what people often tell me, mistakenly thinking that divine approval will somehow make the burden easier to bear.  Me, I’d like to think that He wouldn’t give me such a thorny crown. It just comes with being a creature made of flesh and bone.

But just in case they’re right, I jokingly pray, “God naman, huwag kang maniniwala sa sabi-sabi na kaya ko pa. Tsismis lang ‘yan.”

And,  I am fairly certain that the next thought that popped up in my head was His reply. He said, “Well, at least you still have your sense of humor.”

[adiduck]

If the ask game qualifies as fun things...I think fantasy arranged marriage AU is still on the table?

Or if you are Star Wars'ed out: What do you find yourself drawn to, as a reader or a writer or both, in fictional magical systems/settings?

For this game:

Oh, sure! I'm having a lot of fun with this ask game.

War is looming on the horizon for two neighboring kingdoms that have been at war off and on for centuries.

For once, the threat is not from each other, but from a third kingdom over their bordering mountain range. Dooku of Serreno has mounted a campaign of conquest, and the magically enforced army he has raised is rumored to be unkillable and eternally replicable. The kingdoms of Coruscant and Kamino are no strangers to war, but they need numbers and allies, and there is, unfortunately, few other kingdoms in the area who would even have a prayer.

King Obi-Wan reaches out to Nine-Nine, the current king of Kamino, oldest of ruling line of a kingdom of clones, with an offer. Alliance in the face of otherwise assured destruction, sealed with a marriage contract. Nine-Nine agrees, and sends another of his line to negotiate the contract and make the match--Cody, an established warrior in his own right, and a steady, passionate enough presence to represent Kamino's interests in a foreign court even surrounded by potential enemies. Cody brings with him Kamino's pride and saving grace--the containment tubes used to clone the lines that have existed in Kamino for centuries, capable--outside the borders of his land cursed to never bear natural life--of combining genetic material of two people despite physical sex and creating children; the gambit they have agreed to in order to make Cody a reasonable choice for consort.

With court intrigue and Kaminoan prejudice in every corner, centuries of animosity laid between them, whispers of a strange disease spreading through Cody's kingdom that drives a person mad and makes them unreachable, and an increasing suspicion that not all is as it seems with Dooku, odds that the marriage will even survive the nine month gestation period for their twins to be born are... shall we say low.

Or are they?

--

As for your second question, friend, I love magical systems with inner logic and history. I want there to be ties between the magic and the world that make sense, and I want to see magic baked into multiple aspects of that world. I'm a sucker both for magical realism and for myth (I know, that last one is a BIG surprise). I also love it when magic can surprise me--when you can take a system to an ultimate conclusion that isn't expected. Lemme come up with an example.... Okay, so, if we posit that bleeding is necessary for spell-casting, for example, does something different IN your blood change the spell? Does heart's desire change it, since blood and the heart are inevitably linked? Does bleeding from different parts of the body change it? Has anyone ever tried? Are there STORIES about it? :DDDDD I eat that stuff for breakfast.

[thecitythatdoesntsleep]

Vampire Master-Guide

First of all I want to start off by saying I've gathered inspiration from MANY vampire medias. Fictions, games. The biggest influences are Vampire the masquerade (primarily bloodlines) and Vampire Knight (manga). As well as honorable mentions to Vampyr (game), Queen of the Damned (movie) and Van Helsing (movie, anime). So if anything sounds familiar, chances are it is. I highly encourage you to explore them as they are a few of my favorites.

Second of all this is going to be massive, so I'll be putting it under a cut. But it will be a comprehensive guide to my personal vampire lore that I've crafted and worked with through the years. If you like it, feel free to use it! I'd absolutely love to be tagged (so I can shower the creations with praise) but it's not required. I'm just out here making one more version of vampires that hopefully inspires you. There will be a couple different categories that I will touch base on.

History (this part is super short)

Physicality - Medical Information

Physicality - Appearance/Body

Mental Effects

Society

Anything from my vampire lore will be tagged #vlor

Now follow me under the cut, lovelies. But please be Warned: We'll be discussing blood, violence, physical and mental illness. As well as regular vampire related things. If any of this could trigger you, please kindly skip this post because you're far more important to me!

'History'

The original vampire to walk the earth, cursed by the heavens was Caine. After committing the first murder, a blood-soaked punishment was to forever be banished to walk the darkness with a constant reminder of his crimes. Thirst. Craving for the same blood he shed against his own kin. The sin was carried through the years and he came upon another outcast kindred by the name of Lilith, cursed by God in a different way and hexed with powerful disciplines.

They bonded as kine and Lilith taught her chaos to Caine in hopes they'd rule together. In the end his nature stayed true and his now empowered wrath befalls Lilith, committing murder yet again and taking her life.

To feed upon and be fed, was a now animalistic instinct that spoke louder than supposed human nature ever could. And thus the curse spread. To anyone that drinks from the tainted or is bitten by a rabid, is surely to bear it at the final heartbeat. The path to redemption is sealed but survival is nearly infinite. So long as the beast is obeyed and satisfied, there is no constraint on lifespan. They will be damned to an eternity enslaved to thirst.

(Primarily from VTMB but I really like the idea of it being some sort of ancient curse from the gods so I thought I'd include this tiny historical bit. Onto the good stuff.)

Physicality - Medical Information

Vampires are anemic, let's just establish that all vampires are what modern day medicine would consider anemia. But they also have super aggressive red blood cells that function x100 that of human white blood cells. All in one combo of super cells. No illness spreads. No disease can contract, nothing can live in their system. They don't fall ill with colds or flu. STD's aren't feasible. Their systems are far too strong and combative to infections, bacteria.

Their integumentary systems regenerate about x200 - x300 times faster. Within seconds (if there is or has been fresh blood in the system recently) their skin regenerates and goes even beyond that. Mere hours and limbs grow back, bones realign.

Vampires don't have functioning organs. (If they are turned from humans they are there but they don't work and will eventually wither.) Hearts don't beat, lungs have no need for air.

Vampires can't drown. They don't breathe and even if water fills their lungs, they would be weighted down but not die. They also don't float like humans do naturally.

Vampires can go out in the sun but they have hard times with sun poisoning. Think of a sunburn but more like a rash. They can't process the vitamin D very well and almost all of them have trouble with getting severely burnt very rapidly or having a rash from the sun. Prolonged exposure can make them feverish, nauseated and give them body cramps and fatigue. Even longer can make them violently ill and can essentially melt their skin. It can be healed but takes longer.

Staking their hearts immobilizes them but does NOT kill them. They can be detained this way and it is excruciatingly painful. But it doesn't kill you.

Vampires can't eat food. Only few can consume liquids aside from blood. They have no ability to digest it and no longer make acid. They'll usually heave it up along with whatever blood content is left in their gut.

They have perfect eyesight, hearing, hyper senses of taste and smell. Touch is extremely sensitive as well. Their skin isn't fragile, in fact it's a bit thicker than average skin from how fast it regenerates and is constantly maintaining itself.

They are very resistant but not impossible to scar. Scars from human life are erased with first turning.

Vampire blood tastes like flat soda or icky, room temperature tap water. Unpleasant to other vampires but in a desperate pinch, it will sustain but nowhere near as good as foreign blood does. Even animal blood takes better care of a vampires system than another body of recycled blood. (Think of it as they've already taken the good stuff out of it for their own bodies so all that's left is the taste and a few stray nutrients.)

Vampires fangs grow back indefinite. At about x10 the rate of humans losing and replacing their first set. No matter what comes of them, their fangs will always grow back. No other teeth mutate like this.

Fangs lengthen and retract when around blood or not. It's not something that can be helped or even trained out. When blood is present, fangs will lengthen even if there is no intention to feed. Automatic reaction and a painful one at that. They get used to it but it's a sharp pain like having a human tooth extracted but it doesn't have prolonged swelling or discomfort. Only when getting longer or retracting back in.

Whenever they're in bloodlust or a state of starvation, they gain a sense of x-ray vision but instead it's vein mapping. They can see through skin to arteries and if it's severe blood lust, they can even see the smaller, tinier veins in fingers and faces. This is a sight that ever vampire possesses in order to obtain blood easier or figure out a good place to bite. Anything that is living will be seen in a structure of veins. Animals, humans, other vampires.

Severing the brain stem from the body is one of the few sure-fire way to kill a vampire. Alternatively burning them to pure ash and scattering them or holding them in separate vessels. (If ALL ashes are contained somehow and mixed with fresh blood, there is a reanimation process so beheading them is more permanent.) Silver weapons or exposure to silver prior to wound can result in death as well.

Alcohol is SUPER effective when they drink it. Think of one shot making them drunk because it hits their bloodstream almost immediately. A double would have them seeing double and acting like a hot mess. 3+ for even the beefiest of men would have them blacked out and vomiting on the sidewalks.

Drugs effect them but only in extremely high doses and for nothing really over 2 hours or so. Short, short longevity but they have the same crash that humans do. If it's hard detoxing symptoms for humans, it's the same but faster. They can do a hard drug, feel the high for maybe 1 - 2 hours and immediately go into hallucinating and shaking from the aftermath. The same goes for Pharmacia. There's really no medicine that works.

Garlic is a myth. So is wolfsbane.

Silver on the other hand is a very real, very deadly weapon that still rings true. A single pinprick of a silver sewing needle and it can render a vampire powerless. Slow them down to the speed of a human, take away their rapid healing and remove all of their heightened senses. Silver directly into the bloodstream essentially renders them as they were before they turned in physical response and structure. It's the only metal that burns vampires skin and will char it if it sits in one spot for too long. Silver is the only kind of metal that can forge chain that vampires cannot break and can successfully be restrained in. Any wounds inflicted in silver take longer to heal.

They can't reproduce after being turned. Purebloods + Purebloods are the only exception and it's still extremely rare. (Only 9 children born in over 2,500+ years.)

Physicality - Appearance/Body

Whatever color their eyes are, blood-lust accentuates the brightest color. I.e: Brown eyes turn Yellow/Gold, Blue eyes turn White/Purple exct. (Different powers can change this depending on the vampire and their history, sire.) Just think neon, glowing eyes in the dark if they're thirsty or hunting.

They stay frozen in whatever physical appearance they're turned in. Their metabolism is whack so they don't really lose or gain weight, it's down to cosmetic changes or cosmetic surgery. Which at least it heals flawlessly and doesn't ever change. But there aren't many options for personally invested physical change.

Their hair and nails grow super fast.

Vampires usually have the hair color they have when they are turned but around 15% experience graying or whitening of their hair within a few days of turning. Due to a semi-common genetic string in humans.

Vampires don't tan. They burn. No matter what their skin color is. Most are the palest/pasty tone of their natural skin color merely due to anemia and lack of blood circulation.

They don't blush or show physical signs of fever.

Vampires don't sweat or flush when exerting or exercising. They don't have to regulate their body temperatures.

They get dry skin pretty often and it's important to combat it with baths and soaks and lotions/oils whenever possible.

They are usually a lukewarm body temperature. As low as 15°C|59°F to as much as 21°C|69.8°F.

Every vampire has a certain amount of charming allure to them. In whatever form or fashion suits them the best, it's a natural attractant to their human counterparts. A glint to their eyes, a certain smile, the pitch or timbre of their voice. Endearing, seductive, mysterious, whichever shines through in their personality. They are magnetic, attractive to the human eye, no matter what they tend to look like.

They can see themselves in aluminum coated mirrors. Just not silver.

Mental Effects

There is a staggering 95% probability that 'created' vampires will have amnesia unless turned by a pureblood/noble/king/queen/high ranking blood vampire. They remember nothing of their human lives and this is extremely common. It's actually very rare to remember anything prior to your awakening. (That's why there are usually strict laws about siring without consent and proof of consent.)

It is very easy for vampires to be blinded by fits of rage when starving for blood. They can fly into blind anger and attack people they normally wouldn't or even foes they have no chance of winning against. Depending on their remaining strength when this tipping point of starvation happens; it can be extremely dangerous to be around.

Most turned vampires suffer a psychotic break in their early turning years. (Between 6mo and up to 25 years of awakening age. I.e: from the date of being bitten.) The brain is the last thing to be altered in the physical process and because of this, it's believed that their mental state has to crumble to be built better. It's unknown as to exactly why this happens but it's almost guaranteed. It's the vampire equivalent of 'adolescence'.

Over 75% of vampires experience periodic depression and random bouts of sadness. Another 39% live with bouts of mild to moderate psychosis. (This has been suspected to happen because of the physical stasis and improper circulation of chemicals/hormones/exct. Many believe it's because of the guilt of their King, Caine.)

Mental illnesses that aren't born from physical imbalances are in cases of amnesia, cured. Those that are chemically related are usually worsened by the stagnant physical changes of vampirism. It's rare that those with amnesia remember their traumas or emotional upsets after turning.

The "amnesia" of turning is the death of a human psyche. With the staggering rate of permanent amnesia, it is hard to figure out exactly how it happens but it's widely known.

Society

Humans are not fully aware of vampires. This still rings true with the fear of world war and or wiping out the human race given their species.

There is a high society "government" type of monarchy. Each clan or type of vampires has a leader "elder". This is usually the oldest vampire to date of that specific type. Sometimes it's a group or a family of elders. In most modern day they have adapted to a more "presidential" route and have to establish themselves as leader types to be considered for any kind of law making or enforcement. (I.e: Noble bloodline, diligent efforts of servitude such as public service, military or other.)

There is a strict law against turning humans. Vampires are required to have clearly given consent and the process is to be looked over by an elder or enforcer. They must show strenuous documentation of that persons preservation in the name of probable amnesia. They must have a comprehensive processing of that persons interests, personality traits, societal standing, proof of occupational termination, familial status and situational agreement. (Basically they don't want humans forgetting their lives entirely and they want to make sure that they are able to move somewhere or hide from their families until they're well trained enough to be around them again. It's a very long to legally accomplish it.

Every city handles turning differently. Some require the sire to pay the death penalty and others are strictly against killing the one person responsible of their turned kindred.

Vampires are in every day jobs, doing anything and everything that humans do. From trash collecting, to law and doctors. Fame, fortune, poor, criminal; they all live as many walks of life as humans do.

Anti-vampire establishments are alive and well. Most are run by other vampires. Some humans share their beliefs but most typically it's a resounding amount of vampire extremists. This is legal due to the fact that they try to adhere and coexist for their sanctions ordinance. Helping enforce justice for their regions and implore an opposing force for rampaging vampires or other law breaking kindred.

Most human killings are covered up, tampered with or has someone on the inside working on doing both. It's a constant job but a needed one to keep their existence safe from being proven.

There is a massive shortage on vampire doctors serving other vampires or studying from what little information there is on vampirism. The ratio looking like 1 to 300. 1 doctor for every 300 vampires.

The most vampire dominated and lucrative occupations are generally law, publishing and sex working. There are 3 vampires with these jobs to every human worker.

Here is an additional post about how vampire blood would effect humans.

So that was everything I could think of for the time being. I may continue to edit and update this as I have time or I think of something that I haven't touched base on yet. But this is just the general lore I work with when I do write about vampires or when I think about them in general. Feel free to skip certain parts or like.. adapt it however you'd like. I made this to more so inspire people not to show a list of HOW things should go. Take of it what you like and ignore what you don't! Add more if you think of something!

Some of it gets a bit random but it's still things that I've either incorporated in some unpublished fics or talked about with some friends or just fantasized about in general. There's bits and pieces in all media for vampires that I really enjoy and I think every new style spins something different and makes for wonderful content!

[cosmiclatte28]

Immortal (Jaehyun x you)

Inspired from The Old Guard

a/n : angst, mentions of death and diseases. Please leave a comment and tell me what do you think :D

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“You're different.” Jaehyun reaches for your hand and makes you freeze in place.

You cannot believe your ears and your eyes. Not in this situation where the place is being ambushed. Not right now, you wish with your whole heart time can rewind itself and gives you a proper way to talk.

“It's just if I don’t say this now, I don’t know when I will be able to say that again.” The man in crisp shirt and blue tie and slick hair bites his lips as he hides his red ears. Despite his white shirt being crumpled and adorned with his own bloods, his suit still hugs his body perfectly.

You turn your body slowly to face him, the eerie secret tunnel in this mansion is not helping your nerve at all.

Yes, your parents, the president of the state, were holding a party, yes you were assigned a special bodyguard, and yes that bodyguard was Jaehyun the man you wish you can have.

“What do you mean Jeffrey?” You call him by his childhood name. A name he introduced himself at first place when he met you in the scout summer camp.

Jaehyun bites his inner cheeks, suddenly his boldness is slipping out of his grip.

“You're different and I like you.” He glances to his feet and look back to you when he hears you let out a gasp.

“You're not in your mind now. We're under an attack. We should run before they find us here.” You free your wrist from his grip and take a rush to the endless tunnel.

Jaehyun sighs and follows after you, in his hand is a gun and he's on full alert since there are only you and him here. Whatever happens to you will be his responsibility.

“You don’t know the passage.”

“I do. It leads me to the backyard where we have to run to the bunker and wait for help.” You reply him frustratedly with tears forming in your eyes.

Jaehyun was flustered to see you cry. Yes he understands the situation can be too hard for you to process, but you need to save your life right now.

“I saw my father died there Jae, I was running because of the shock and you pulled me directly here. But now… now that we're here alone in this eerie dark tunnel… I don’t know if I'll survive.” The stress and pessimism are building in your body and you hate yourself for being this weak at critical moments.

Jaehyun shakes his head and pulls you to a hug, he knows the tunnel is safe because no one knows about it and no one saw him escape. But it will be a matter of time before the enemy realizes the daughter of the president is missing and they will find you no matter what.

“Come, we need to safe you.” Jaehyun grits his teeth. He wanted to confess his feelings because he too is afraid, he won’t get the chance, but that was not the right moment. He blames himself for his action.

“I can't Jae! Look, you know I don’t have much time left too!” you hug yourself and walk faster following the tunnel.

Jaehyun runs after you, keeping an eye on the parameter still.

“What are you talking about?” He snaps back

“Don't you hear the news? I am diagnosed with a stadium three brain cancer. I don’t have much left." You said between your tears. You cannot lie right now you can feel your head aching and you can taste blood in your mouth.

“Shit you're bleeding.” Jaehyun quickly takes out his handkerchief and presses it into your nose.

“And didn’t you know I have the cursed blood genetic disease?”

Jaehyun knows that. He is aware of the list of things you need to avoid, one of them was avoiding bleeding because you have hemophilia, the condition where your blood doesn’t clot as fast as other's.  He is also aware of the cancer, but he thought your medication is doing okay.

“Stay with me,” Jaehyun falls with you when you lean into his body and slowly lose consciousness.

“Please (y/n)… for me.” He picks you on his back and quickly take big strides to the end of the tunnel.

They almost made it, they're so close to reaching the gates.

In fact, with you mumbling all the things you hate about being the president's daughter, Jaehyun made it into the bunker.

“Stop talking, breathe please breathe keep your energy.” Jaehyun says as he lays you down on the bed and fetches a fresh blood supply for your type.

You watch him through your blurry eyes, “Jae, I am different from you.”

Jaehyun shakes his head as he rummages through the fridge “Fuck where is your supply?! Goddammit someone took yours! We only have one?!” he furiously sets the needle and pokes it into you.

You gasp and cough “They planned it Jae.”

He shakes his head “Stay! I love you, please stay!”

“They knew and they didn’t kill me there. They want me to suffer. I haven’t taken my chemotherapy for the last month Jae, there was always interruption.” You whisper as you watch Jaehyun checks over all of your body for open wounds.

“I only have months,” you look into his eyes “Unlike you, some lucky species who don’t die as easy as me. I envy your cells.” You chuckle.

Jaehyun has been identified as one of the rarest evolved species. He is gifted with an “immortality" . When he gets hit or shot, the wound will cover up quickly before any fatal things can happen and he can stand up again as if nothing happened.

You saw that, earlier on the dinner when you clearly saw him taking bullets for you and once you're in the tunnel his body is smooth like a marble. No scratch, no marks, like a total new skin!

“You cannot die. How jealous am I.” you close your eyes to take a deep breath. Jaehyun couldn’t say anything as he busies himself with the radio transmitter trying to get help.

“Jeffrey! Look at me. You did well, you did your duty well. You saved me; it's just my time is coming. I won’t forget all of your actions for saving me.” You whisper taking every ounce of muscle and cognitive to work.

Jaehyun can’t hold back his tears. It has always been like this, since the first world war up to today, he doesn’t age. He has limitless life. Making him the most powerful agent or bodyguard.

“I hate you Jeffrey, if only I could stay longer with you then I’ll love you” you smile as you exhale your last breath and close your eyes after recording his face for the last time.

The man cries, again it always ends with him suffering the pain of being left by the people he loves. He's witnessed all of his lovers go through painful deaths, but he cannot do nothing, he cannot save them, he cannot spare their life despite him being “immortal”.

  end

[realityhelixcreates]

Dance of the Spheres Chapter Six: Meteoric Mambo

Chapters: 6/?

Fandom:  Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: kidnapping, forced marriage, death mention, mild body horror

Characters: Loki(Marvel), Heimdall(Marvel)

Additional Tags:  Loki Goes Overboard, But When Doesn’t Loki go Overboard, Mature Reader, Disabled Reader, Political Intrigue

Summary:  

Gave my love to a shooting star But she moves so fast that I can't keep up, I'm chasing I'm in love with a shooting star But she moves so fast, when she falls then I'll be waiting                                              Shooting Star-Bag Raiders

Loki leapt for the door, bellowing for somebody to fetch someone named Eir. Then he was at your side, lifting you effortlessly in his arms and carrying you through your beautiful rooms, to lay you down on your warm, comfortable bed, where you writhed uncontrollably in terrible pain.

Loki unbelted your dress, and drew the blanket up to your chest, then seated himself next to you, holding your hand, stroking your face, and murmuring things you could barely understand through the pain. Eventually a graceful, middle-aged woman appeared with several handheld devices, and a sound scolding for Loki for being so irresponsible with the Apple.

You couldn't even take pleasure in the dressing-down he was receiving, as the woman attached one of the devices to your arm, and set the other one above your bed. A projection of your body appeared above you, hovering in midair. It showed all kinds of information that you didn't understand, like the graphics in a science fiction film.

“It's started in her spine.” Eir said. “That's why the pain is so severe to begin with. It's effecting her nerves first.”

“What does that mean?” you cried, your voice twisted into squeals of agony. “What is it doing to me?”

Eir began to launch into another scolding, but Loki drowned her out with speedy explanations.

“The Apples of Immortality contain enzymes that act as catalizers on the genetic codes of certain species. So far, we know for certain that they effect Vanir, Asgardians, Jotun, and Humans. They effect us in slightly different ways, but in humans, the change is most drastic.

The Apples give humans greater strength and durability, energy efficiency, speedier healing of wounds and resistance to disease, and a greatly extended lifespan. However, it does this by stimulating the cells of your body to divide en masse, and changing the DNA as it is replicating, resulting in one cell that it original, and one cell that is enhanced. The enhanced cell then devours the original cell, eventually eradicating all traces of original DNA in the body, and leaving a fully enhanced individual behind.”

“My body is making a new me, and cannibalizing the old me at the same time?” you shrieked.

“That's a remarkably lurid way of putting it, but yes, it's accurate. Don't worry, you will still be you at the end of it. Only stronger, and with greater longevity.”

He was so desperately trying to reassure you of the good that would come of this, but all you could do was scream curses at him for the pain, and the lack of permission, and the recklessness. You didn't care if you destroyed the illusion of complacency you had planned to weave-the agony stripped you of any guile you'd thought to employ. But he stayed by your side anyway, gently kissing your hand and wiping your face with a dry cloth as you writhed and screamed.

It didn't matter that you couldn't tell the time; time was meaningless. There was only moment after moment of suffering, an endless, enduring, torturous present. Each minute brought fresh distress, and greater disorientation, as your senses altered under the effects of the Apple, and the agony spread throughout your body as if carried in your blood.

Perhaps it was the trauma of pain effecting your compromised mind, but you were sure that your sense of touch had been so enhanced that your could feel your body devouring and replacing its most sensitive and delicate parts. Your eyes, your tongue, your throat and lungs-you were certain that you felt them rapidly dying and changing. You saw sparks as you writhed helplessly, the colors so bright that you had to squeeze your eyes shut.

And still he babbled on, and still Eir monitored the illusion body, and still you suffered without end. You expected to fall unconscious into exhaustion, begged for it to come, but remained trapped firmly in the grip of the eternal Now.

It reached into your heart, slowed it so much you could hardly move or breathe, It reached into your brain, dampened everything, sound, sight, and finally, even the pain. As your brain ate and replaced itself, your screams faded, and you found yourself unable to feel, think, or do anything. It was a form of death, and you welcomed it with gratitude, though remained conscious throughout.

You vaguely registered that Loki was panicking, believing the Apple might have somehow killed you, blathering about love and apologies, snapping at Eir, who coldly shut him down.

He was insane, this whole ordeal really proved it. Mad royals weren't uncommon, mad, immortal, super-powered rulers were a much rarer problem, but a problem you now had.

Maybe not for long. Maybe you really were dying. Maybe your brain didn't replace itself fast enough. Maybe other parts of your body were failing. Maybe you would be free of this nightmare soon.

But the replacement must have gone well, because pain began to fade back in, from the parts of you that weren't finished with their self-cannibalization. Loki threw his arms around you when he noticed you beginning to writhe and gasp again, holding you firmly, yet tenderly. Some small and guilty part of you took comfort in it, even as you hissed hatred into his ear.

Time did pass, even if you couldn't perceive it, and you only had so much body to devour and rebuild. The pain finally dissipated, but ache and shock remained. If what Loki said was true, if it wasn't just a lie that Eir was going along with, then you had been changed; irrevocably changed without him even asking or letting you know what was happening until it was already happening. No choice, no consent. And he dared babble about love.

The shock dampened the resentment, and the exhaustion kept you from struggling; Loki kept holding you like it was okay, like he hadn't just subjected you to a trauma nearly equal to the one you had already endured. You could feel your leg. It had been years since you'd felt those phantoms, but this brought it all back.

All you could really do was cry in the arms of the monster that now held you, tenderly as a beast cradling a chick.

You could feel his horrible strength, his cloying warmth, his humid breath on your hair was hot in the dry air. You hadn't yet thought about him having a scent, but he did, the kind of scent that any living animal had, similar to another human being, and poorly covered with soap or cologne, also like a human being. He smelled alive; alive, and breathing, and warm, and you were cold with sweat, ravenous and sore with exertion, weary with exhaustion.

“Don't...want to be here.” you breathed piteously.

“Shh.” he soothed, dabbing your tears with his cloth. “It will be alright, my dear. I will make it so.”

He said it with such firm confidence, as if nothing in the universe could stand in his way. But then, he was perfectly capable of just killing inconveniences, wasn't he? All authority was; from the small-town cop with their false drug or gun allegations, to entire governments who politely asked their people not to call the internment camps at the border 'concentration camps' please.

All your life you had been under the thumb of that authority, and all your life all authority had done was try to take more and more control from you-from your mind, with constant propaganda and psyops, and from your body, with never-ending financial drains and restrictions. But it had never been as direct as this. It was exhausting and soul breaking, but it wasn't like this.

This man held you like a lover while he destroyed you.

“Let yourself rest. Rest.” he murmured  “Nothing else will hurt you. You'll be safe from now on, I'll see to it. My precious bride, just wait. After this, we can look to the future. After this, I can make you deliriously happy. Just let me.”

You were already drifting off, but you didn't miss the command behind that. What would he do if you were unable to comply? Would he find some way to 'make' you, like he had 'made' those people follow him when he first came to Earth? Or would he just remove you somehow? It was clear now that he wasn't planning to replace you with some other woman, not after this. This 'mistake' was permanent now.

You didn't fight the slumber as it came over you. It seemed like the only thin that would free you, if only for a little while.

                                                                         ******

Loki didn't want to leave your side, not even while you slept, but Eir all but dragged him away by the ear, to scold him for his recklessness.

“This is not one of your magical experiments, your highness, this is your wife! She is human! She is delicate, and distressed, and you have dropped a great deal on her in a very short time. Humans are not that strong, my prince. You must treat her gently, moreso than her own people apparently have.”

Loki took the tongue-lashing as he deserved, guilt gnawing at him. He had been reckless. He'd rushed things that hadn't needed to be rushed. Things that, in fact, should have been taken much more slowly, so that this case of mistaken identity could have been revealed and safely resolved.

It was far too late for that now. Loki was tied to you, and you were immortalized, and there would never be another for him, and your life would never be the same. More than his overflowing love for you, he now owed you quite a bit, for the tremendous disruption he had caused you.

He needed to find out what happened. Why had this all gone so wrong? It was tempting to attribute it to a curse upon his life; like every great plan he had ever made, it had come crashing down disastrously. But no, there was something else at work here, something outside of his knowledge or control. Someone was working against him.

Only a handful of humans knew he still lived, and was here. Several key U.N. leaders, those Thor had deemed either the most powerful, or the most trustworthy. It was a knife's edge of political power balance: if Loki stepped too far out of line, those leaders could reveal to the world that he still lived, and all of humanity might turn against Asgard for it. But likewise, Asgard could turn it back on them; after all, those leaders knew he lived, and ignored it for their own gain. Human lives were so brief, and human leaders were so terribly aware of their own mortality, so terribly obsessed with holding their power until they died. To lose that was the greatest fear of each and every one of them, and he was entirely willing to use that against them as viciously as necessary.

Showing mercy, while making it clear what unmercifulness would look like was one of Asgards oldest and most powerful negotiating tools.

Had someone in power in your homeland interfered with the selection process? Had an enemy of your homeland done it? He had expected a relative of your country's leader, a daughter, niece, or cousin. Perhaps an even more distant relation. Had a third cousin objected to their daughter being sent to him, and replaced her with you at the last moment? Treachery.

Why had they deemed you a suitable replacement then? Was it the leg? Was it that you were poor? They must have known that you would become rich beyond measure as his wife.

What had happened?

He couldn't shake free of the memory of your face, contorted with agony, begging for death, cursing his name for hours. It had taken nearly a day for the transformation to be complete, but it had been so long since a human had been blessed with an Apple, that Loki didn't know if that was normal or not. Maybe that was why they were given to humans so rarely. Few would go through that kind of torment willingly.

You hadn't even done it willingly.

His heart squeezed tight in his chest. He had to find out what had happened.

                                                                       ******

“Ah. If it isn't my favorite face, before me once again.” Heimdall said, voice as flat as always.

“How is it possible that you've gotten even more insufferable since the last time we met?” Loki shot back. “All this extra sunlight must be overheating your brain.”

“And yet, it was your highness who decreed this be my new lookout point. Do you complain now?”

“No, no, look. When I picked up my wife, did you see anything unusual? Anything surrounding the event at all?”

“I saw two men, dressed identically, in a vehicle that lacked some of the marks that they usually have. They threw her walking aid into the grass a few miles away from your pick up site. A dog dragged it away. I did not see them escort her, as I did not know who I was looking for at that time.”

“Could you find them again?”

Heimdall gave him a stoic look. Loki sighed and nodded.

“Find them again. I wish to know what they are doing right now.”

Heimdall gazed out, ignoring the beating sun, and sought his targets.

“One is eating a sandwich at an outdoor cafe. He has an iced coffee. The waitress is flirting with him, but he does not respond to it.” he said in the hollow voice he got when he was far away like that. “The other...rots under the desert, naked.”

“He's dead?” Loki exclaimed. It had only been a day since he had received you. What could the man have done that warranted his death? He had delivered you, as promised.

Unless the men weren't supposed to deliver you. Unless they had been part of a plot, and perhaps one man had sacrificed his partner in order to escape. Unless...any number of possible intrigues.

“Extremely.” Heimdall confirmed.

Loki sighed and shook his head. There was too much missing information.

“I will need to speak to him.”

“The dead man?”

“No, of course not! The one having lunch. But not right now. When he is alone. Keep an eye on him.”

Heimdall said nothing, but merely settled into his long distance gaze. Loki approached a nearby worker. He was dressed in the heavy duty working clothes of a miner, and looking over a stack of reports. Loki joined him under his sun shelter.

“Find anything new?”

The miner started at his sudden appearance.

“Your majesty!” he exclaimed. “I didn't know you were coming.”

“I just happened to be in the area. How are your findings?”

“Uh, well,” the miner shuffled his reports nervously. “the iron has turned out to be substantially more that the traces we initially assumed, and we have discovered more water to be extracted. Several locations, in fact. We've also discovered  titanium, however...”

“Is there some kind of problem with it?” Loki asked.

“It's pretty far to the south...on land that technically hasn't been ceded to us.”

“A complication, to be certain. Well. Let's look at it as Midgardians would.” Loki began ticking points off on his fingers. “One: does anybody else live there? No, this entire rock is uninhabited, save for us. Two: Has anyone else laid claim to that land? Doubtful. I believe there have been treaties regarding that. Treaties which, incidentally, we have not signed. Three: is there any indigenous wildlife in the area that needs to be protected?”

The miner laughed.

“So the problem we are faced with here is largely non-binding. And if we keep our operation mostly underground, they might never notice in the first place. And even if they do, wasn't this land-gift meant to be a way for them to observe how we transform difficult terrain into livable space? They cannot observe us if we do not do it.”

“As you say, my liege.” The miner said.

Loki left him to his business, and made his rounds to each of the workers who were out plying their trades under the bright sun; water gatherers, stonecutters, road builders, brick makers, and maintenance workers, listening to their worries and spreading encouragement.

This was something he felt Odin must have forgotten; that kingdoms were not built on secrets, but by the hands of every member of society. Addressing their concerns was important, and often not all that difficult. The commoner was most often interested in simple things, such as food and safety for their family. The worker was usually concerned for their project, and their concerns were worth hearing, as they knew what they were doing. Loki did not know what stone was good and sturdy, or what stone was flawed or too weak for building with. A stonemason did.

Also, it was worth the time to be known by the people he was meant to lead and rule. Who could proclaim allegiance to a mystery?

He heard Heimdall softly call for him, as if the watcher was right next to him. He wished the man he was talking to well, and made his way back along the sun-drenched road.

“Well?” he asked.

“The man has retired to an inn. He is alone in his room.”

Loki smiled thinly. “Perfect.”