#tw: read at your own digression

[northern-polaris]

Hiraeth (1/?)

Hi so someone bullied me into posting this so now we’re here. This is just pure self-indulgence and it’s not going to make sense. Enjoy? No beta we die like Andras doesn’t.

 Summary: I couldn’t think of a good summary so this is basically modern Tamlin with canon universe Lucien. Don’t worry about it. But all that stuff is going to happen later and this chapter is going to be sad tam hours. 

Honestly, it was Andras’ fault. His friend just had to call him to bombard him with worries, inquiries, and other related issues. As if he didn’t already have enough of those already. Just more items to add to the seemingly never-ending list of things for Tamlin to torture himself with in the dead of night. 

The conversation made him vulnerable; made him uncover old, festering wounds that marred his mind, sending him back to that ‘bad place’ that Alis would warn him about. stalking through the desolate halls, he shouted curses and damnations against the backdrop of deafening silence. Anything that would have drowned out the roaring in his head. 

Noon gave way to afternoon, afternoon to late evening, and finally late evening to early morning when Tamlin finally regained some sense of clarity. 

Upon his returned consciousness, he marched out to the back patio that overlooked the forest he often dreamed of disappearing into. He dug around in his pockets, searching for something, hoping almost desperately that he would find it. The discovery of his phone on his person revealed that he had missed several messages, Tamlin was both too high-strung and exhausted to respond to them yet, and that wasn’t even what he was looking for anyways. 

After checking every pocket and rummaging around the patio for longer than he cared to admit, he finally found what he needed. 

Cigarettes. Thank fuck. 

His celebration was short-lived once he realized that he didn’t have anything to light them with. A few more curses and crashes later, he scrounged up some matches. That would have to do in the meantime until he could find his lighter. 

With great haste, he lit the ‘death stick’(nickname courtesy of Andras), placed it in between his lips, and took a deep inhale. The burning in his lungs was a welcome and familiar sensation, his muscles already relaxing alongside his racing heart. 

He was on his third cigarette when Tamlin finally bothered to check his phone messages. One was from Andras; a simple question about how he was feeling. He ground his teeth and felt a muscle twitch in his jaw. He didn’t need all this monitoring. He didn’t need to be coddled or handled like something delicate or breakable. 

He was fine. 

After taking another much needed drag from his cigarette, he tried to calm himself and his newfound ragged breathing. Breathe. In, hold, out, repeat. He didn’t know how Andras tolerated him.

After what felt like hours but revealed to be only a few minutes as shown on his clock, Tamlin tightened the reins on his emotions and tapped out a quick reply:

[Everything is fine.]

Because it was. 

The other messages were both from Alis, his back straightening at the sight of them. He could practically hear her stern but warm voice chastising him for slouching as she typically did. She always scolded him for his ‘less than desirable’ habits, and he respected that the stubborn woman never let off with it. God forbid if he ever told her that though. 

[Hello Tamlin, I hope that you are having a good day.]

He readjusted the death stick in his mouth and kept reading.

[I wanted to let you know that I shall be returning from vacation with my nephews next week, Monday. Andras told me about what happened earlier, which you didn’t mention in your last update.]

He vowed to kill that fucking snitch one of these days. 

[And now I expect you to give me daily updates until my return. Furthermore, I want to remind you to eat dinner. It’s good for you.]

[Good night, try to sleep well.]

The messages from Alis and Andras were sent around two P.M. Tamlin checked the time to find that it was nearly one A.M. 

He sighed and slouched again in the chair he didn’t remember sitting down in. Monitoring and Coddling on both fronts. Great. Just. Fucking. Great. 

He stubbed out his cigarette and tossed it precariously in the direction of the trash, letting his head lean back until he was staring at the ceiling, looking for something that he didn’t understand. He squinted when he thought he saw something move, but it was most likely something his brain conjured up. Nonetheless, he kept staring.   

It reminded him of the story where a woman stared at her yellow wallpaper until she went mad. He made himself chuckle at the mental image of him creeping around like she did, biting bed posts and ripping apart accursed paper confinements. 

It sure felt tempting. 

After an indefinite amount of time just waiting for the ceiling to move, Tamlin decided to at least try to make something that he could sink his teeth into. For Alis’ sake. 

He could make a steak, pretend that it was Andras, and promptly rip it to shreds. That was enough motivation to make him slip out of his chair on shaky legs and walk back inside. 

He stumbled into his kitchen and swung the freezer door open, nearly ripping it off the hinges. Letting out a noise that could have been a growl, he regarded the packaging of beef that he had forgotten to separate earlier. All of the cuts were frozen together.

With already frayed nerves and a complete lack of patience, he rationalized that he could pry one off the heap with a simple knife. It went through like butter for about halfway, and then the knife got stuck. 

Tamlin grunted in frustration, applied more force, and it still had the gall to not move. He decided then to throw all caution to the wind and placed his other hand at the other end of the pile for more leverage and stabbed through it as hard as he could. 

“Fuck!” 

Well, that was certainly more blood than Tamlin was comfortable with.

#pro tamlin #tamlin #tamcien #lucien vanserra #I don't have an explanation #I just need to put the babygirl through the blender #It's how I show my affection #tw smoking #tw mental illness #tammy is not fine don't let him tell you otherwise #i don't know what else to tag just read at your own digression

[tonks-21]

Fairy tail headcanons of Gray Fullbuster as a older brother to a younger sister who is five years younger than him (she is a year older than Wendy)..she has ice make magic. She has Elizabeth's personality from the seven deadly sins and her clumsiness

Team Natsu's relationship with Gray's little sister.

Gray Fullbaster as your older brother ( + Natsu's team !) | Fairy Tail | Request

TW: mention of sadness, anger feelings, mother instincts over reader not real siblings relationship... +18

Type of content: Fluff, slice of life

Since Gray met you he respected your boundaries a lot, if you tell him not to say some kind of stuff, he won't.

But if he is sure you need to have a discussion about something, he will push until you let it go.

Because he always wants the best for you.

And if it means to break in his arms, that will do.

Gray is always looking after you.

You aren't always at first hour at the guild, but if you don't appear at your usual hour, he'd be worried.

One of the first days in which he had to take care of you, you fell asleep and he stepped in your department to look if it was a casualty or you were in real danger.

This man always wants to go with you to your missions.

Even though they are simple and boring ones to someone of his level, he'd prefer to go and look personally after you.

Gray obviously trusts the other members, he developed some kind of overprotection over you that makes him uncomfortable and even nervous if you aren't around and you are probably facing an enemy.

As you use ice magic too, Gray'd teach you.

But in a slower way than his master did with him.

He just can't put you in extreme situations, sure you train hard, but you won't start holding on 24/7 with ice cold the very first week.

He likes to give you headpats if you are smaller than him and backpats if you are taller or when you get taller.

If you carry a bag, you'd probably have some of his clothes in it to give them to him when he forgets to wear his own.

Natsu and Happy usually invite you to a mission, as you want to try harder challenges and, with their team, and even more, your brother in it, it would be such an experience.

Although Gray complains about it, Lucy is already picking a mission, Erza by your side, with her arm over your shoulders, giving arguments about how you've improved your ice magic in the last month and Happy... well, trying to convince him by saying that you'd be left alone, there, without anything to do and that type of stuff.

They love you a lot. You are like one of the team and a little sister to all of them, even though you do not always go with them.

But they consider you so.

And how not? You are always so kind and cute and willing to help when there is a problem.

You may not be the best, but you put your life on it, and that's why they appreciate your presence.

Well, that and the fact that you always were capable of mediating between the boys.

Gray'd listen to you as Natsu will complain a bit but would leave it there and Happy would hide behind you to not get hurt by some  magic.

But if you turn serious or sad they'll stop even complaining.

It may not be the same as Erza, but they have a huge soft spot for you.

Lucy always wants to talk to you, you two are so close and understand each other, even though you are younger, she can feel she can trust you.

She'd do anything for you as the good friend she is.

Erza has like mother instincts over you.

If you didn't read the mission you chose, somehow she'd know and question you about that.

But she'd protect you with her life, that's for sure.

Natsu? Natsu always wants to stop and eat with you.

He feels safe eating with you, it's a strange sensation, but it's like peace and he is comfortable so he just leaves it that way.

And Happy loves to talk to you. It's just so funny the way you two can digress about.. nearly everything and just let your mind shoot random words and ideas from your mouth. You two talk a lot when you have to walk or take a transport to get to the mission.

Thank you sm for reading :D Hope you enjoyed!

#fairy tail #female reader #headcanons #erza scarlet #lucy heartfilia #gray fullbuster #x reader #sister reader #gray fairy tail #happy fairy tail #fanfic #erza #natsu dragneel #wendy marvell #natsu fairy tail #fairy tail headcanons #fairy tail x reader #natsu x reader #gray x reader #erza x !fem reader #erza x reader #lucy x reader #lucy x fem reader #angst #fluff hcs #Corvey's chest

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

(TW: Religion, masturbation mention)

My dear lgbt+ kids,

Diversity win: the newest "Callout post" about me was not written by a terf - this time it was a Christian! Love to see more groups represented in that genre <3

Weird attempts of humor aside, apparently the girl kept seeing me on the "Trending" page and was very concerned that my posts are actually reaching religious kids - and quite honestly, reading a Callout post is always a weird feeling but I did almost feel happy about that one.

Funny way to find out that I regularly(?) make it to the Trending pages. And with my religious posts at that! As someone who feels very loved by God and notices the positive effects this has on my life, I sometimes feel like I do not do enough for my religious readers. I want to share that love, I want to encourage you to build your own loving relationship with God. I do not believe in converting others, do not believe that God expects or even wants us to do that but I do believe that it would be a beautiful thing if a young person read one of my posts and felt God's love through my words.

I want to use this unexpected opportunity to clarify something about my personal beliefs, and that's the fact that I am not a Bible-believing Christian.

I believe that the bible was written by human beings many, many, many years ago and those human beings surely had their own relationships with God - and so did the people who wrote the texts that belong to other religions. And so does the 5-year-old boy who never read any of them but feels safe and loved when he looks at the moon at night because to him that's where God lives.

I said above that I do not believe that God wants us to convert others and this is because I believe that God chooses to show love to everyone in the unique way they need and understand. I call myself Christian because that's the religion I grew up with and it naturally influences my views on God. But I guess I am one of those "All Gods are one" people (or "All Gods are real" - maybe God chooses to show up as multiple Gods for you because that's what you need!).

So, no, I will not read through some very old texts until I can find some words I can use as proof that God is cool with me "encouraging masturbation and not caring about gender" (which is a kinda weird way to summarize the broader message of this blog... but I digress). I'm sure I could do so, the bible is written in a pretty vague way that leaves a lot of room for different and even contradicting interpretations - but I strongly doubt that God wants me to do that. I think God is much happier with me spending my time and energy trying to make people feel loved.

God loves you. You, the one who masturbates, and you, the one who doesn't care about gender, and you, the trans kid, and you, the gay kid, and you, the atheist, and you, the Muslim, and you, the girl who writes Callout posts. God loves, unconditionally. If there is only one message someone takes away from my blog, I hope it's that one... but if it's the "it is okay to masturbate" one instead, that's fine with me as well.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

#lgbt #lgbt+ #Just to be clear: I am not calling an adult woman girl to disrespect her or anything like that - I checked her blog she is a teenage girl #not feeling any anger or ill feelings towards her #tw religion

[simnostalgia]

TW: Stalking, suicide, death, death threats, Zoophilia, Pedophilia, etc.

This is a long read. Sorry about that. I have lots of thoughts.

A Little Background for Those Not in the Know Regarding Sims "for profit" Modding Drama.

Okay, so I know I've already kind of talked about the implications of the new policy a little, but I haven't really talked about what I personally think about it. This seems like a good time though. I don't really expect many people to read this all the way through but honestly, I just wanted to say something about it.

As some of you know I was the old head of DHM (Dollhouse Mafia) and original founder. I stepped down a while ago because I was spreading myself too thin on personal projects and also, I didn't like the way things were going. I have nothing but good things to say about the current leadership, but it just personally wasn't worth it to me. ANYWAY, that being said, I wanted to put my thoughts about how the community has changed regarding its stance on pay content and how it used to be

So back in the days of TS2 PMBD acted as a receptacle for all pay custom content to be leaked. TSR, way back, was the biggest pay site in the community with several other smaller pay sites that specialized in hair or clothes. These sites generally had a specific style and very obviously made their own content. I couldn't tell you how much creators made but I know that other than TSR users it wasn't a huge amount.

So, The Sims team has pretty obviously always had a love/hate relationship with pay content. Even though it seems to have cooled they used to be VERY close to TSR. I know that they've always had a policy against pay content but it's never been enforced really. Like I said though, the only people who seemed to be making BIG money from non-passive income was TSR.

The reason that I bring this up is that I think the reason that things went so wrong isn't because of pay CC. I'm against pay CC and I always will be, we can talk about paying artists all we want but at the end of the day this is a hobby and if you're trying to use it as your main source of income you're in the wrong but I digress...

EA's Relationship with for profit CC

Fun fact, Patreon was actually started by the voice actor that played Teen/College aged men in TS2. I suspect that he got the idea from watching The Sims community try and set up their own personal online shopfronts and figured there was a way to do it better. I also suspect that many people who worked within The Sims Studio were pro-paysite because it created a demand that kept The Sims brand in people's minds. If people were making a living off of it then it was always being bought and you had people who basically HAD to buy it because that's how they made a living.

When talking about his new NFT (gross.) project Will Wright actually mentioned that one thing he didn't like was that piracy was taking place when Sims players were creating pay CC and others would pirate it. I suspect that the only reason they kept the policy they did was in case creators would make something that rivaled the studio in terms of quality (which according to Don Hopkins was an actual concern and part of the reason that EA's CC tools weren't super powerful, we couldn't create anything "too good")

Like anything to do with money, I think people who were mostly outsiders to the community realized that they could maximize profits through unsavory means such as flipping meshes quickly and reselling them from 3D modelling websites.

The problem is this created a flood of people who started using The Sims as their SOLE income and they began making good money too. Enough that they wouldn't easily be able to make that amount doing anything else without a serious career change.

Low Quality, Quick Profit, Unruly Community

So remember how EA decided they wanted to reach out and start the Game Changer program for the better by doing outreach to players by trying to interact with the community online. Then very recently they were like... trying to start a "sims social platform"? Yeah EA isn't really crazy about the fact that we're a self-sufficient community.

Most other gaming communities that have player made content tend to try and keep that player made content in an official store of some kind. Both so they can monetize it and use it as a selling point and also so they can control what can be done with it. Roblox is a GOOD example of how companies tend this sort of thing to play out. Communities that exploit creators and allow companies to control the player content, so everything aligns with the "brand".

Now, I'm just a person who REALLY likes The Sims and knows a lot about it so take it with a grain of salt but I suspect that EA is trying to find a way to keep us under better control. They've likely seen the messy fights that the patreon creators have been getting in. They've also definitely heard about the wide-spread availability of not just sex mods but sex mods that allow for pedophilia/zoophilia.

People can act like this has happened before in The Sims community but not like this. Before people were getting legal threats here and there and a few people were doing some bad stuff with the game but now we're talking doxxing, half of 4chan has started using The Sims as a sex playground, and people are making crazy money from it. EA was willing to overlook sex mods but I doubt they want a replay of the Jack Thompson case or to get the bad press that Habbo of Secondlife got for being bastions of pedophilia and perversion. It used to be that TSR was one company that made a lot of money and acted like a company acts to protect their business interests. However, now you have several HUNDRED people who were using The Sims as a get quick rich scheme and they were willing to attack community members to keep themselves living well. Not all of them, mind you, but it is an issue.

I suspect EA is worrying how this will look for the brand. It was okay when we were all creating a few mods and making pocket change from custom content. But now, because we've all been content creators we're getting better at it and it's causing problems (TM) for EA.

Both because their overlooking of pay content has backfired as it became more of a business AND because their players started becoming skilled enough to create things that both rivaled their own content and sullied their brand for outsiders and started attracting more and more unsavory types (cough cough ColonolNutty).

TL;DR: EA did this to themselves. They wanted the community to create for their games but didn't consider the outcomes of monetizing it. Now no matter what they do, some group will be mad at them. No matter what they do it's going to result in bad press... And you know what?

#Patreon drama #Patreon #Simblr #The Sims #The Sims 4 #Sims #TS4 #ColonolNutty #Colonol Nutty #WickedWhims #Wicked Whims #Roblox #Habbo Hotel #simblr drama #Sim Nostalgia #Simnostalgia #cowbuilt #Mack3030 #EA #Electronic Arts #Maxis #sex mod #Jack Thompson #Sims patreon #leosims #PMBD #Paysitesmustbedestoryed #pescado #This is EA's fault when you think about it

[murasakispace]

[COD MW2 HCS] 141 + Los Vaqueros + König with a Neutral Gender! Writer! Reader

A/N : How come we never see a Reader as a writer in whatever fandom - or am I blind - in headcanons ? I mean... So many people writing amazing fanfictions or headcanons on this platform or everywhere else and... No ? Really ? We’re talking about a military Reader here, by the way. 

TW : none (for once) except the ugly typos you may encounter. Only one very little mention of smutty litterature 

John “Soap” MacTavish 

So... Let’s start with our lovely Scottish sergeant 

It is apparently canon that he likes to draw on a small notebook he keeps with him dearly. 

So he knows. He is acquainted with the ‘writer’s zone’ we flee into when inspiration holds us within its graceful arms. When the images of action flood through out brain when a stroke of genius light up our features and how we appear lost in some kind of parallel universe only us are able to interact with (well... it’s how it looks like for me, feel free to comment - writer or not - how your imagination works) 

However, Soap is mostly aware about the tropes and what we can consider as the technical side of writing such as relashionship dynamics for your characters - if it implies the said relashionships - 

I think he is the kind to prefer roomates universes because of the domesticity he is able to find there and friendship warms his heart. Although, that’s just an impression. 

He is actually the biggest help out of the 141 because when he draws he also uses the codes of his type of creation for his cute doodles you suspect him to scribble on the yellowed paper of his little diary. 

He knows what it is to lack of insipiration, even though he tends to throw his thoughts on the paper and reproduces his surroundings. 

He appreciates the smallest details that compose his world. He notices them all. 

But I digress. 

You two share a world not so accessible for the rest of the team. When you talk about [Insert fiction character of trope here] in a very specific context, the others gaze at you confused. 

More than writing, it is a little sweet thing you two share and you would never lose that for anything in the world.

Simon “Ghost” Riley 

He... Understands... Not like Soap. He doesn’t have that much imagination. 

He gets it is your hobby. It is as valuable as any other activity. 

Simon thinks it’s cute in some way. You, lost in thought, next to him, about and into something he can’t quite grasp. And a sheet of paper or the blank screen of an app on your tablet or whatever device you judged comfortable.

At first, you asked for his help about some details, or his opinion, or his advice. Then, you understood he was too down-to-earth and wounded by his abusive past to allow himself to relax this way next to you. 

Yet, you used your hobby as a way to stay with him as a support. He had just to tug a bit at your sleeve and all your attention would be on him. 

It was the first step. 

You understood quickly that your writing might be able to help him unwind and finally get comfortable. 

You write him silly stories, made for him to laugh, or to smile at least. It wasn’t a big deal, just fables. You have no idea what he does with it. You just hope it enables him to dream even if just during the day like a fleeting thought clinging to him. A distant echo of something nice his heart and his memory agreed on keeping dearly underneath his leaden shell. 

You also may be the one reading your own stories to him. But the mistakes, the inconsistencies or the lack of meaning and every little flaws in your writing may appear much more visible once clearly uttered. 

By dint of effort, you manage to soften him a bit. He doesn’t want to ask you if he could read either what you are writing or if you have something for him. However, he eventually hopes within the depth of his heart that he can flee from reality for a few minutes. 

He is so grateful to you even though he is bitter on the fact he can’t bring you much constructive criticism. 

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick 

Another one who understands one might have such a hobby but he may not relate. 

I don’t see Gaz as someone who reads a lot. It’s just not his thing. He’ll read for sport news or something related to one of his own hobbies. 

I guess he doesn’t have the patience to sit somewhere comfortable and allow his mind to wander this way thanks to your words. 

Except maybe when he desperately needs to unwind and his thoughts are too noisy so he needs to occupy his plagued mind with something totally different. 

However, he is curious about the creation process. 

He’ll ask about your ‘tools’ after you explain to him that your scenario and elements of the story doesn’t entirely pop out of thin air and you may have to rethink and to shape your ideas to make up a story both understandable and enjoyable. 

He laughs when he notices about your nonsensical Internet history. How can it be so weird ? And then, he remembers what kinds of research he does when the night isn’t kind to him and he doesn’t laugh anymore.

Sometimes, your brain amazes him. You sound so cool when you take the time to explain some of your ideas. 

Kyle is awesome at helping you for worldbuilding. He has a lot of imagination when he manages to leave his military universe on the side and peeks at yours. 

He is an excellent beta reader since he is actually very neutral about writing in general and he’ll try to give you the most help possible when you ask him. Too short ? Too long ? Not enough or too much emphasis on a detail ? He just aims at your betterment ! 

John Price 

You are a writer ? Well... As long as you do your duty you can be whatever you want. 

He is neutral with the idea of you being a writer. He is a soldier before anything. And a leader at that. He’ll support you because Captain Dad... I mean... Captain Price always supports his team but sometimes the said team gives a hard time to his comprehension and patience. 

You’re mostly quiet, with music for your ears, typing or penning something on a sheet of paper. Moreover, it seems like you have some sort of natural distance with Soap’s or Gaz’s - or both - usual chaos. 

Price has to say that it amazes him how you are distant of everything when you are in what Soap would call a writer’s fever. 

By the way, he happens to watch over you both when Soap draws and you write on the couch of the common room. If you both eventually show him what you created - if you don’t he will not force you - he’ll gaze at you like a proud momma duck despite his best behavior. 

He is mostly the one staring in disbelief as you use vocabulary, tropes, imaginary events for your own type of art since he can’t understand it even though you all speak the same language. 

Price notices very early you are a skilled writer, or at least you have some experience. The reports he gets from you are probably the best from the soldiers he got under his orders. He might have something to say about the spelling and the shape of your letters if you give him handwritten reports. Depends on you I guess. 

He will not ask to read what you write. You can call that the appropriate distance induced by hierarchy. You remain soldiers. You may as well act like it. 

Sometimes, you’d like his opinion. An outside point of view about your work is always good, no ? Well... John Price has a Ghost syndrome. He is annoyingly ass deep in his military life. Hence, he faces a very limited imagination except when it comes to interrogate an enemy. 

The worst about him is that he could be an amazing beta reader. Constructive criticism and probably giving you ways to improve yourself in what you already are so good at. 

Just give him time. He’ll get interested one way or another. First, you may try to be closer emotionally to him. Might be a good start to go past this military hierarchy and to know what his tastes are to get his heart beat only at the tone of your phrasing with your unique talent 

Rodolfo Parra 

He thinks it’s so cool to have a hobby as enjoyable as he thinks you have just by the way you act when you are writing. 

Rudy doesn’t have the time to delve that deeply into a hobby. Los Vaqueros constantly demand his attention. However, when he gets the time he - like Gaz - tries to ask about the process of writing. He even tries to write by himself. 

You explained about the tropes and dynamics and he seemed to get it immediately. Childhood friends to lovers is his favorite one by the way. 

It was just a little story he came up with. It was the first thing that stuck to his imagination, appearing out of an obscure place of his brain. It was uncertain, somewhat shaky but simple and, in a way, adorable.  

He almost took it personally when you said this small piece of text was just like him. 

However, before you sink even deeper in awkwardness, you dismissed this last interaction and tried to correct him the best you could. 

After that, he was looking forward the little time when you could write with him and he could learn. Another thing, it’s quiet around you, focused, relaxed. Alejandro knows where to find him when he is looking for his right hand. 

He could be an amazing beta reader if he wasn’t so kind. He forgives you everything. “Have you noticed inconsistencies or flaws ?” you’d ask. “Maybe a little something here but I’m sure it’s me” he’d reply. Unnerving, right ? The gentlest reader but you don’t need him to be so nice. You need him to be observant. 

He also comes up with very simple ideas when it comes to writing but his way of apprehending things has something one can’t quite describe. My closest synonym would be a vibe, something like raw talent that only needs to be explored thoroughly. It resembles to cutting a diamond, sharpen the edges to make it glistening and precious. 

His imagination is not too chaotic but his thinking and reasoning develops and fill in the gaps of his originality. 

Anyways, Rudy is amazing. As always. 

Alejandro Vargas 

There has to be one who does not take you very seriously. Well... It is Alejandro. The Mexican colonel is... something else, to say the least. He considered himself a man of action and not a man of words. So, to him, whatever you were doing with those scraps of paper during your free time was none of his business. 

He’ll try some kind of joke with you writing nasty things in the secret of that little head of yours. Two answers now. “No, colonel, I’m not into writing that kind of litterature” would be the first reponse with a hint of scorn hidden behind your deadpan aspect. 

The second answer though... “Yeah ! I write smut ! Now that we’re talking about that, do you mind if I use your features for my next...” and then you proceed to make a very descriptive, thoroughly explained speech about your imaginary Alejandro and what you planned him to do in this small story of yours. The point was to make the colonel embarassed. Although, it worked better on Rudy who went blushing like a tomato. 

If you choose the second option, it will end up in nasty jokes each time you meet each other. This silly game is absolutely unsufferable for everyone making the mistake to listen to you. 

If anything, your relashionship suffers from this disregard. You didn’t ask Alejandro’s appreciation, hardly tolerance even but it left a sort of bitter taste. Rudy is... Kinder. More understanding. 

However, what happens is that you tend to be consequently more distant from Alejandro. It may have been a silly joke about a pastime of yours but writing is so personal that it was as if he made a joke about your own self and this was intolerable. He had no business disrespecting you this way. 

Beyond that, you banished him from your writing process. His opinion, his hypothetical help, what he might like to see within a story - doesn’t matter how silly it may be - he was no part of it. 

If he changes his mind, you’d tend to retort him something alike “Let’s stay in our own field of expertise colonel. Let me dream about my stories. And you, dream about chasing El Sin Nombre. Good fences make good neighbors as one says”. 

Something that also might happen is that Rudy’s new habit of unwinding with you quietly in the common room and having long conversations with you about that hobby you were now both sharing made him feel weird. Alejandro was surely passionate and admitting he’s wrong - at least for this - was no part of his character but this was the proof he should’ve acted differently. The realisation took its time but he eventually accepts the fact he made an asshole of himself. 

He’ll apologise when he catches you alone, writing. Now the question may be about how much time do you want to play with him for having been such an arse. 

Eventually, Alejandro learns his lesson and he even asks you to read what you write. When he’s done, he is so silent, gawking. You laugh at him. 

König 

Our gigantic, adorable Austrian operator is a book worm. It’s horrendous. The heavy bullying he has been a victim got him to be safe between the shelves of library. The scent of old paper and the calm of the library got him out of his skin, journeying between worlds out of his appalling daily life. He was typically the dreamy, lonely kid who had characters inside his head as sole company. 

So yeah. Books mean relief, respite, getaway for him as well as a way to heal himself from the pain he received from his classmates or whoever hurt him in his younger days. 

He doesn’t have much time for reading anymore and these books are a little too bulky for the small package he was allowed to have. So having you near him is like a blessing. He can talk out his thoughts.  

Beyond writing, it is the vibe around you that convinces him to sit next to you in the common room. He tried to make himself small, to not take too much of the couch but you couldn’t deny his thigh touching yours. You raised your head and smiled at him. König did not utter a single word, already flustered to fail at conversing. But, as time goes on - and after numerous times he just sat next to you enabling himself to move a muscle - you made most of the conversation. He felt almost immediately at ease. 

You two daydream together now, talking about little things always related to writing or reading. It is also a way to relax after close calls and the danger of being killed. 

He is the KING at worldbuilding. König has always several ideas coursing through his brain. His mind is sometimes chaotic, full of details. He gave you the impression once that telling the history of one of this world would create a great saga on it own. Moreover, König is so passionate about these little bouts of thoughts put together. 

He is also very aware about tropes and dynamics. His favorite of the latter is the small protector x the big shy character because he can relate. And he also has a soft post for a good ol’ mutual pining or a hypothetical love at first sight - as unlikely as it seems in real life - 

He doesn’t try to write with you though. He knows he is not too good at this, which is weird considering the tremendous amount of time he can spend while reading. Although, König knows he may have a chance if he writes in German. It depends on you being able to understand him or not.

König is also a dissatisfactory beta reader, different from Rudy though. He doesn’t dare utter what he judges as flaws because he thinks he’d lose you. He is so happy to be the first reading whatever you are working on because it makes him feel so special. 

He always supports you and tries to relax you when pangs of frustration creeps inside your mind because your writing doesn’t go the way you plan it to be. 

Just like with Soap, what you two have is not understandable by the people around you. What’s more is that König’s anxious nature tends to keep you both distant from the people outside of your little bubble. 

#COD MW2 #ghost cod #cod x reader #gender neutral s/o #gender neutral y/n #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x y/n #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #alejandro mw2 #alejandro x reader #call of duty rodolfo #rodolfo parra x reader #john price #price mw2 #price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #kyle garrick x reader #cod mw2 headcanons #mw2 headcanons #mw2 2022 #ghost mw2 #könig mw2 #fluff #mw2 fluff #cod mw2 x reader

[pervysenpaix]

Journalist!y/n has standards. MIDoriya doesn’t meet those standards. Though I kinda want to read her finding out Dynamight started dating Red Riot and she starts simping both of them and ends up getting both

I like the way you think nonnie. You deserve an emoji [🧨] you're my first btw 🤞🏾. let's discuss some real men shall we ?

pairing; k. bakugo + e. kirishima + you

Part 1

PS: this is super inconsistent because i got carried away with the plot in the beginning but then I remembered that this is supposed to be a quick thirst response so 🤡

TW! Prohero AU, non con/ dub con ( reader is intoxicated), semi-sleazy KRBK, obsessed reader, stalker KRBK but Y/N started it!, reader is recorded without consent, reader is drugged, anal fingering, anal seggs, double pen, borderline mysogynistic <- sounds worse than it actually is in my opinion but I'm FUCKING SICK.

After your initial encounter with Dynamight was rudely interrupted by MIDoriya, you scurried from the office with your remaining shreds of dignity. Did you regret it? Hell, no. Your wildest fantasies couldn't have prepared you for what it would actually feel like to be fucked by the explosion hero. But, you couldn't help the anxiety that settled in the pit of your stomach once the implications of your actions started crowd your mind.

This man caught you masturbating in his office, then fucked you after acknowledging that you'd been stalking him for the past few months. It was horrifying to say the least. Yes, you were still obsessed but you were also extremely embarrassed and could not shake the ever present feeling of awkwardness that came whenever you imagined the way his scarlet visionaries burned your skin.

So you figured that it'd probably be best to lay off the extracurriculars for a while.

The article was great and earned you tons of notoriety. People were surprised with how candid the hero was with you especially since he usually turned down interviews. The public assumed that you were some investigative genius when in reality you were some crazy stalker that he wanted to make an example of.

Alls fair in love and journalism, you suppose; but, it kind of sucked to get used and discarded like that. From your favorite hero no less !

Anywho!

A few months past and you'd done several high profile interviews since the incident. You tried to keep yourself occupied with work to avoid thinking of your muse but that proved difficult when he had been plastered across various media platforms due to an apparent change in his relationship status.

Have Red Riot and Dynamight finally made it official?

The alleged couple had been spotted out on several “romantic outings” but nothing had been confirmed by either parties PR teams. Various publications turned to you as if you’d have some insider info but alas you were just as in the dark as everyone else.

You’d sworn to yourself that you wouldn’t go back to your old antics but god did they make it tempting. Dynamight alone was always amazing but paired with Red Riot ? The thought of it had you foaming at the mouth. Eijiro Kirishima, the Sturdy Hero, who was named Japan’s most eligible bachelor three years in a row was now romantically attached to the object of your desires. What more could a girl ask for ?

Dignity, but I digress.

Everyone wanted the scoop on the couple and your publisher decided that you were the girl for the job. You tried to weasel your way out of it to no avail. Taking a shot in the dark you called over to Dynamight's agency with every intention of being rejected but to your surprise you were patched through and met with a particularly gruff voice.

The hero had agreed to do the interview on the condition that it be done in his own home over dinner. Stating that he wasn't up to having "the talk" with "that damn Deku" again then asking if you still remembered how to get there. Your cheeks burned at the insinuation, so you nodded dumbly while blurting an overly cheerful, "Yeah! See you soon!" before assaulting the "end call" button.

So now you stood on the familiar yet foreign front porch of the Bakugo estate ringing the doorbell. The door swung open revealing Dynamight in all his scowling glory wearing his signature black tank and cargo pants with a Alien Queen Pinky! ™️ apron wrapped around his slim waist.

"I know you like goin' through the backdoor but this seems more appropriate." He smirks, canines flashing and silver chain swaying as he leans down to guide you inside with a heavy hand splayed on your lower back. “You look good, it’s been a while”.

"Y-yeah, like a couple months if I'm not mistaken. It's good to see you as well". He huffs in response, handing you a pair of fluffy slippers before leading you further into the home. He brings you to a sleek industrialized kitchen and pulls out a barstool to which you offer a polite thanks, making him scoff. Katsuki turns towards the stove and begins interacting with the various pots in pans. It smells divine. You watch curiously from your place at the island. Wanting to cut through the smothering silence but not sure what to say.

"No point in actin' all meek, Princess. We're not exactly strangers". His back is to you, but you can imagine the scowl on his face.

He had a point. A few months ago he had your fluffy bits on display and now you could barely muster a sideways glance.

"Sorry" you breathe, "I guess I'm a bit nervous".

"Because of the stalking or the sex ?" He asks bluntly, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the counter. "Cause m'pretty used to both when it comes to fans. Just not in that order, I guess".

If you could sink into the floor you would but Dynamight's harsh stare told you that you wouldn't be let off the hook that easily. Luckily for you a door slammed followed by the soft padding of feet revealing a very handsome and very shirtless, red-haired hero.

"Oh, hey there! You must be , Y/N. Wow, you're even prettier in person!" You stare dumbly at the tall man. His long hair is damp and light sheen covers his tattooed skin. He wears red sweatpants that hang dangerously low on his waist and a slender gold chain similar to the one worn by the blonde hero.

"Oh! T-thanks, Red Riot. You're pretty too". As soon as the words leave your mouth you cringe but taller man laughs boisterously while casting a knowing grin. “Yeah yeah—you’re both gorgeous, now can we eat?”

Dinner was delicious—as expected. Katsuki (which he insisted you call him) mentioned that cooking was one of his hobbies with Eijiro adding that Katsuki’s cooking was one of his hobbies as well. The two played off each other well, effortlessly switching between best bros and star crossed lovers in an instant. It was enough to make you swoon.

They’d all but explicitly stated the nature of their relationship and when you asked them if the rumors where true Katsuki gripped the back of Eijiro’s neck and pulled him into a steamy kiss that left a string of saliva connecting them. He then looked directly at your camera and said “you tell me” with a shit eating grin.

Dinner was over and you felt yourself growing restless from the casual PDA being displayed between the two heroes. You had more than enough footage for your interview so you decided to call it a night. However, the two men had other plans.

Eiji insisted that you stay for a glass of wine. Then two. Then three. And before you knew it you were a giggly mess sandwiched between the contrastly sober heroes on their huge Cal king bed. Katsuki had convinced you to spend the night because it’d be irresponsible to let toy drive and Eijiro offered one of his large shirts so that you’d be comfy. And he was such a gentle that he didn’t let you lift a finger. Using his quirk, he slice down your clothing until you were bare trembling. He then slipped the shirt over your head, not bothering with underwear and slotted you against his chest with Katsuki sliding in behind.

"God, you're soft." Eijiro sighed, palming and spreading your ass cheeks with his huge hands. " You didn't tell me she was this soft, bro" he whined, pouting his lips at the blonde who was groping your breasts in a similar fashion.

"Tch, and risk you blowing the plan to shit ? it was hard enough to stop you from breaking in her house after I showed you the video" Katsuki scoffed, still focused on tweaking your puffy nipples.

Eijiro groaned at the memory. Katsuki had already planned on fucking you that day in his office, so he installed cameras to capture the moment. They never expected you to be so slutty and willing and right before he could fully exploit you that damned Deku barged in. The redhead remembers how quickly his cock went flaccid when he saw the frantic greenette mumbling apologies. If that was HIM that walked in on a scene like that he would've fucked you both two ways to Sunday.

After watching the video he just had to see more of you. So the two of them spent days strolling through your social media profiles and jacking off to your pictures. Eijiro couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if you were smiling directly at him instead of the camera. He couldn't help it, he just had to see you in person. Luckily for him, Bakugo knew where you lived. You see, the blonde watched you just as much as you watched him prior to your encounter--he was just better at it. He knew your daily route and all of your favorite spots. The two heroes would go out in hopes of "bumping into you" but it never happened organically. They then settled on stalking your residence and peering at you through the windows. On one particular you were bouncing on a red riot themed dildo while deepthroating a dynamight one and Katsuki had to literally blast his ass out of there so that he wouldn't break the window.

"Please", he rolled his eyes, "a slutty bitch like her would probably get off on it. Wouldn't you, babe?" For the first time in what felt like forever they were actually talking to you instead of over you, but as luck would have it you were too out of it to respond.

Your skin burned and a hazy cloud settled on your mind. It felt like you were drowning but not necessarily in the bad way. Your body was submerged in an ocean of pleasure and every time you thought that you may break the surface, the men changed course making you spin endlessly. Eiji's thick digits speared and spread your asshole while the heated pads of Katsu's fingers ran over your nipples. It felt like you were on fire and the only thing that could douse you was the two men staring down at you. Their voices were distorted but you could just make out Eiji's voice saying, "did we give her too much, seems pretty out of it ?" at least that's what it sounded like but its hard to be sure with the way his fingers were rubbing against your walls. "nah, kinky bitch is probably floatin' in subspace or some shit. she wants this, look at the mess her pussy's makin' on the sheets".

Did you want this ? No doubt about it and the way they just manhandled your body between them had you gushing an obscene amount of slick down your thighs.

"not a thought in that pretty little head. god- you're fuckin' perfect for us" Katsuki groaned, pulling your head back by your hair to spit in your mouth then turning you back to Eijiro who followed suit. Even under the influence, you swallowed immediately earning raspy praise from the men.

"fuck baby I wish you could see yourself " Kirishima whined, slotting your lips together and bullying his tongue in your mouth. Bakugo kissed up your neck and chuckled.

"That can be arranged".

You woke up bundled in unfamiliar satin sheets that smelled cinnamon and caramel. The room was dark save for the sliver of light pouring the floor to ceiling bedroom window. A glass of juice sat next to a bottle of painkillers on the bedside table with a note that read “drink me”. Now that you thought about it you did feel pretty sore. Being the good girl that you are— you take the pills and head out to find your hosts.

Bakugo and Kirishima were no where to be found but you did a beautifully plated breakfast with a note that read : Goodmorning, gorgeous! We went to run a few errands but we should be back soon. You should go hang in the den until we return.

The friendly tone of the note led you to believe that Kirishima wrote it but it was very friendly considering the two of you just met last night. Speaking of which , you couldn’t remember anything from the night prior.

You settled on the couch trying to rack but it was pointless. You shrugged it off, deciding to dig in and watch tv as the note suggested, but much to your surprise a video was already queued.

The video started with a close up of Bakugo running his tongue across his teeth. He set the camera down and you and kirishima came into view. You were bare—laying across the bed with your head hanging off the edge and your legs spread wide to accommodate the large man between them. Kirishima was nude as well , signature smile adorning his face as he bottomed out in your asshole. Katsuki joined the two of you, lightly tapping your jaw with his cock and pressing it against your tongue. You swallowed around him and clenched down on Eijiro making the men groan in unison. There was no sounds except wet squelching and moans.

You didn’t even realize that you’d started touching yourself until your eyes rolled back in ecstasy and you came with a shout.

A sudden this brought you out of your post orgasmic haze; you whipped your head around seeing the two males surrounded by what seems to be your luggage from home.

“Mind if we cut in ?”

#krbk fanfic #krbk #kiribaku x blackreader #kiribaku thirst #kiribaku x reader #kiribaku smut #kiribaku #mha kirishima #mha bakugou #mha bakugo katsuki #eijirou smut #eijiro x reader #mha x black fem reader #mha x female reader #mha x black!reader #mha x chubby reader #kiribaku x chubby reader

[circular-bircular]

Plural VS DID

Vent art, hell fucking yeah. Can be reblogged if you relate.

Tw: Ableism, Sui, SH, discussions of trauma

"I'm plural."

We accept you, We love you, That's cool Who are you now?

"I'm plural."

I know this, I've heard it online Do you have any fictives? Can I meet them?

"I'm plural."

I don't get this But I know it's your life As long as it's not harmful I'm happy for you.

=

"I have DID."

That's a disorder. Your brain is broken. Did you know, if you talk about it You'll be abused in a mental hospital?

"I have DID."

I'm worried about you, I've read about it online, and I watched Split (it was great) What if you go mental?

"I have DID."

No, you don't. DID requires childhood trauma, and you haven't been hurt like that. You were/are too ---------- to be hurt like that.

You're just plural, really.

=

You claim to be oppressed. I have seen oppression. I have seen the fear in my husband's eyes that No other being can see, because those yellow-striked Irises are false and forged by Trauma that only I could know, for years and years and years on end.

I have seen the doubt and the worry and the suicidal thoughts Etched into my own mind and arms As I prayed to someone I did not believe in To deliver me from the hell I was dragging ourselves through While desperately wishing it wasn't true. And I continued on a path I did not desire Because someone surely did. I knew they did. Did I?

I have seen oppression in the snot soaked tears dripping Down into the crevice of my collarbones as I realized I could never be me, not out of malice of my own But the malice of others, wishing me to be fixed. I could not be open in the real world, for I would be hurt. I could not be open in public, for I would be killed. I could not be open online, for I would kill myself at their urgings.

I was broken, society told me. I was horrific, society told me. Because of things beyond my control, things I could never have stopped, I was too young, too innocent, too fucking ignorant of what should have been to have stopped it, and I can't believe there are people out there who fucking blame me for that? How dare you.

But I digress.

Because what I mean by my words As I say them in my mind out loud for the others to hear Now that I'm here and healed (Or somewhat, at least) I find it's a beast when I realize The Plural Movement has grown to a beast of its own.

And I am dragged along, in chains As they scream "we're oppressed, we're harassed and we're blamed for just being us!"

And the ones who scream loudest chose this for us.

I never got that choice. I didn't get to choose. A lot of you did; you had nothing to lose. It's fun, it's a joy, you love who you& are And the small problems you have aren't due to your system To your plurality.

Mine are.

Because my system is caused by trauma. Not by choice, or plurality, or spirit, or brain fuckery.

Trauma. The shit you told me I didn't have.

Because it didn't fit in your plural community.

I am not in your plural community.

You experience hardships, adversity, confusion, distrust. You experience misplaced oppression, meant for me, and I weep for you, I do.

BUT I AM NOT YOU.

So stop fucking calling me plural.

#Vent #Venting #Vent art #Vent poetry #tw sui #tw sui ideation #tw sh #tw ableism #trauma #tw syscourse

[the-heaminator]

France once suddenly disappeared. He fattened himself up and cut off parts of his body, cut up already and looking like regular meat to cook and sent them to some of his neighbors. To this day, they don't always know the real reason behind France saying "I've enjoyed being inside you"

I liked this, and because i write more gore and cannibalism than i should do, it ended up being, like that. Please read at your own discretion TW: Gore, Cannibalism, Weight gain(?) I'm not sure if its a trigger but I'll include it. Everything is relatively mild believe me i could have gone to town and further with this, I refrained myself to avoid concern

Francis had not shown up to the meeting, and he hadn't shown up to a few of the prior ones too, it wasn't all that odd, at least not in the long run, this was Francis after all, he had probably just fucked off somewhere, or was having a little bit of a snap of his sanity, both happened often enough and frankly it was nothing to get overly concerned about, almost all nations over a certain age dd this on occasion.

This was nothing frightening, or odd. This was normal.

Francis liked to eat, this was no surprise to anybody, he had gotten a little softer in recent decades, overabundance of food to a system not used to it would do that, that in itself was also not unusual, hell even Gilbert had discovered that you could eat and take pleasure from it without being sinful about it.

Francis wanted to be sinful about it, at least on this instance, he wanted to be a glutton, to eat and eat and eat without any thought of the consequences, frankly for their kind, there were scarcely any. He had done this before to boot, he knew what he was doing, fattening himself up like a prized hog could be considered a little odd, I do digress, but he was an odd man, so what the fuck.

Soft rolls of lovingly homegrown lard, it would taste nice if slow-cooked or marinated, he spoke from experience, he had stocked up for weeks before he decided to disappear, he could cook all he wanted, he could order out, the ability to do that was novel and he liked it, the food was greasy but delicious, he understood why Alfred and Arthur liked such foods, even if only the former had it have an impact on his waistline, Arthur didn't eat enough in the first place, he would taste bad, horribly anaemic, it wouldn't be nearly as rich as he liked it, mostly bones, he would make a nice broth.

Eh where was he, cake, yes, cake, he had baked a nice one, all for himself, yes he was being selfish but was that not his goal here?

He was nearing the target weight, it was always fun to reshape himself, the human constitution could not do that, they were not entirely human, he would do it in the bathroom, save the carpet, and even if anything was detected, it was impossible to extract DNA from it, they didn't have it in the way people did, no adenine, nothing.

The cake was good, he had already prepared the marination beforehand, it was getting a little hard to see the numbers on the scale, always a bit more bottom heavy than he thought he would be, he did want to crush Arthur between his thighs like this, he would practically suffocate, that would be fun, but he could not do that, unfortunately, he was not sure how to broach this to him, he could just not, but that would be mean.

Anyhow, he had been getting a little distracted these days, he was getting close.

A couple more days and he was there, reshaping himself like Michelangelo with his block of marble, cutting off hunks of flesh and watching his body stitch itself together, it needed energy to do that, and he had enough stored away now to heal fast enough that he never truly came close to deaths, he always decided to keep some, this time he decided to keep a bit more than usual, he liked being soft, it was comfortable and warm, he had been blessed with almost womanly curves, it would be nice to use them to his advantage.

Some off the sides, some off the chest, arms, thighs, not too much off that, he liked them heavy, closer to his normal weight, he slowly waited for his body to fully clear itself up, skin now unblemished and clear, he missed the blood a little, but it would taste nice.

Marinated, slow cooked so his lovingly homegrown lard really seeped into the meat, making it soft and tender, actually it was a bit like a mix of pork and venison actually, he could pass it off like that.

His neigbours loved it, he missed the feeling of straining against his clothes more than he normally did, it usually went away in time, he did wish it would do so quicker though, "I've enjoyed being inside you.."

That was creepy, he usually left it at that though, unless someone asked to which he then continued "Being inside your house. That is."

#hws france #ah #AHHHHHHHH. Im oddly embarrased by this whoever requested this i hope you like it dude bc its not that I'm uncomfortable more like I'm #flying too close to the sun #the heam writes

[therapy-familiar-reports]

REPORT #Q@&$ DATE: !& | ! | In the œth Year of the ߧrd Cycle REPORTER: Loch | Mimi (familiar) CLIENT: Aidan Corcoran (wizard)

NOTE:

Starting this year, the Department of Familiar-Wizard Relations is requiring working familiars and all of their wizard partners to document their work for historical records. The records will be sealed. All of the following information in this report will remain confidential until records are made public at the beginning of the next Cycle. This report and any other reports made by the Familiar Therapeutic Service Agency, due to its status as a healing center and thus subject to the Healing Privacy Act, will be handled with even further care to ensure absolute confidentiality. If a client would like to request for their records to be destroyed, they should contact their Agency liaison.

TW: Memory loss, dementia, wizard death, pet death

BEGIN ENTRY:

Today, Earl told me I had to write down a report for each of my clients due to a new law from the Department. When I asked him how the report should be formatted and written, he responded with, “Eh? I don’t quite know — write whatever comes to your mind, I guess.” 

So, here I am. Writing whatever I want with these gross opposable thumbs. 

Yes, you read right, gross! Taking forms with opposable thumbs is my least favorite. It makes me feel all squirmy inside, ya know? Alas… I digress. This report is about my most recent client and Pact companion, Aidan Corcoran.

I started working with Aidan two years ago, in the &@th Year of this Cycle. Aidan’s long-time cat, Mimi, had passed away that year. As a 90-year-old wizard with some memory and cognitive problems, Aidan was struggling to adjust to the loss. His daughter Cynthia recommended a therapy familiar. Aidan said he would give it a try. They reached out to my Agency and after a few scheduled visits, it was determined that I would be a good fit for Aidan. Cats are, after all, one of my favorite forms to adopt.

My Pact with Aidan was established, and I came to live with him in the Zochek neighborhood. It was a quiet area, right along the shore of Loch Realtra. He lived in a little brownstone townhouse with a bright red door and a creaky front porch. The porch was clogged with potted plants of all kinds that made me feel like I was walking through the great forests of Murk again when I passed under their shade. Aidan was a passionate amateur botanist, you see.

“Mimi, did you know that most tree species are not even related to each other? They’re entirely different plants who just evolved into the same structure in order to survive,” He once told me while he was pruning the olive tree in his small backyard.

I loved it when he told me those random botanical facts— even when he repeated the same ones.

Now, for you future readers, yes, he called me by the same name as his old cat. This was part of our agreement. Some familiars will choose their own name and stick to it, but I love having multiple names. When I make a Pact with another being, I let them choose a name for me that marks the beginning of our unique relationship. I carry every name I am given with me. I am Mimi, I am Harold, I am Diamond, and I am many more. My Agency coworkers, though, mostly call me Loch because that was the first name I was given when I started working here. But that’s a whole other report… back to Aidan.

Aidan was a stocky and short fellow with a big personality. He was lively, loud, and always quick with a string of curses when he accidentally knocked something over. Such occurrences were common. Aidan confided to me that he had been clumsy since he was a boy. The only difference now was that his magic wasn’t quick enough anymore to fix his missteps. To make up for it, he had replaced the convenience of telekinesis with “just as magical” words, he often joked. As a familiar in a Pact, I could have drawn on our combined pool of magic to catch the objects, but Aidan was adamant that I didn’t.

“Don’t do that now,” He said to me after I had caught a glass that he had elbowed off the kitchen counter, “I can very well take care of my own messes, thank you very much.”

He was stubborn in that old man way which I never quite understood, but I respected his wishes. Too many times had I seen my elderly clients be denied their fully deserved autonomy. I just made sure I was there to watch as his shaky hands grabbed the broom and swept up the shards of glass.

…Damn Earl! I’m not even sure what else I should write down for this report. I could theoretically write absolutely everything down about Aidan, but I fear that this report would be far too long. Perhaps, then, I should speak of his standard routine.

Aidan spent most of his days with his hands in the dirt or around a cup of tea as he watched birds and people fly by his front porch. He loved to read in the mornings. Many nights, he listened to the Bards of Ole runewave station on his old magic stone, singing along loudly and mostly off-key. He would tell me all about how this song was the one he would often hear playing on the stones in his hometown’s alchemy store and how that song was the one he played on his lute for Cynthia’s first birthday.

Cynthia, of course, was all grown up now. She lived just down the street with her two partners. She came over every day to check in and spend time with her dad. Sometimes, her partners came, too. These full family visits often turned into a rousing game of Parcheesi. Cynthia was extremely competitive, and it was clear that she got it from Aidan. Curses were hurled across the board and laughter would fill the air as Cynthia’s partners chuckled at the intensity with which Aidan and Cynthia played. By the time the game was over, whether Aidan had won or lost, he would always have a big, languorous smile across his face — his eyes soft with weariness and joy.

Of course, there were hard moments, too. He would frequently get confused, asking when Cynthia was coming home from school or when he needed to be at the office (he had been retired for nearly 3 decades). Sometimes, he got sad because he knew he couldn’t remember all the details.

“I know you’re Mimi but not really Mimi,” He would say, frowning at me. 

I sat with him through each of those moments. Sometimes, all I had to do was jump into his lap, rest my head against his chest, and purr. Other times, when I felt it was necessary, I would speak with him to remind him of details, to reassure him that Cynthia was safe in her own home and would be coming by tomorrow. Only a couple of times did I have to call Cynthia to help support.

The days continued much like this for two years. Quiet mornings, lively afternoons, and cool nights curled up beside Aidan’s pillow as he muttered softly in his sleep.

One of the most striking things about Aidan, I will say, was the way he could fill your heart with just a few, simple words. Maybe it was the old bard in him. Maybe it was wisdom gained through his many years. Or maybe it was his dislike of fancy, suffocated words. However it may be… in moments of quiet, when it was just me and him and it felt like the rest of the world was frozen, he would turn to me and smile.

“Mimi… you make me feel like a million gold coins.”

Yesterday, Aidan died. Peacefully, in his sleep. 

I felt the magical bonds of our Pact dissolve and return to the Murk.

I think I will take a break from work for a while.

~END ENTRY~

#reports from a full-time therapy familiar #familiar #magic #wizard #wizardcore #familiar therapeutic service agency #therapy familiar #oc #oc rp #oc rp blog

[straydogkins]

General reading for Rina Tennoji

General disclaimer: I hope these make sense to you, but you always know yourself best what is and isn't true to you and your canon. As per usual we rolled three times and asked for a general reading of your timeline.

As always: Please heed the TW's in this, there's mentioned pedophilia and incest in the final paragraph (Not in detail and not linked to your timeline- We rolled a Bad song and wanted to give you a heads up).

The Shufflemancy says...

What's inside? by PinocchioP ft Hastune Miku | Lyrics

This song in essence is someone asking why they and everyone has to keep going through the daily motions of life, why the world feels unjust and like 'there is no karma' and why people subject themselves to this. But that in the end, the song says that 'what's on the inside' (organs) is what links us all.

This song could imply that you were going through the motions, maybe before joining the idol club (or even during) and feeling a sense of isolation because you were the only one that felt out of place, like you didn't enjoy doing the repetitive politeness and couldn't understand why others did.

-

Start:DASH!! by μ's | Lyrics

This song was interesting to pull from my POV considering that you're from Nijigaku and μ's is a sperate group entirely but I digress.

The song is about staring a new exciting adventure and needing courage to do that!

In my personal opinion this song probably links to joining and/or starting the Nijigaku school idol club.

-

Feel Alive by R3BIRTH | Lyrics

Okay I won't lie, originally you pulled Bludgeoning Angel Dokuro-Chan by Lyrical Lily (cover), however I would either ignore this song entirely or analyze it in your own time because I am not comfortable with the anime it's from and by extension the song itself. That being said, if you choose to research the anime it comes from, I will give a general pedophilia (specifically l.olicon being a major plot point and theme) and incest TW, but there could be more I didn't read.

Anyway, Feel Alive again fascinates me because it is a love live song from a unit you weren't in canonically. The song itself is about breaking free (from what is never made clear to me) and focusing on yourself.

This song to me seems to talk about feelings, so you possibly felt trapped and/or frustrated with a life situation, relationship, or anything else (this song to me feels really vague, although the song references a 'We' which I assume is all of R3BIRTH in the song? So, this could be about you and the rest of your unit? I don't know, maybe you were a system).

-

My overall Analysis:

It seems for a lot of your life you felt trapped in a world where you were confused by others and just 'existing' with no concrete reason. Then something (I assumed joining the idol club) helped to save you from this and gave you hope for a new life and freedom.

I would also look into possibly being in a unit that isn't the same as in canon. I don't know if this is me reading too deeply into things but I have a gut feeling that the two units you weren't in being featured is a sign of something.

#🪼 | talking #🫧 | requests #shufflemancy #kin shufflemancy #rina tennoji kin #love live kin #love live nijigasaki #love live nijigaku kin #love live nijigasaki kin

[edoro]

I see your idea that Hunter would be Terrible at retail/service work and Agree but would also like to purpose (tw for abuse/mentions of abuse):

:readmore:

Things retail/service work managers would love Hunter for:

-Never requests time off work (even if he's sick and really should) except like maybe 1 day a year, especially if other people ask for time off work (because then he's A Good Worker for not being like everyone else), because Belos was a bitch like that.

-Immediately obeys orders given, unless, like you said, they contradict The Rules. It's a constant battle between Doing What The Authority Figure Tells You, Without Question and (Also) Doing What The Authority Figure Tells You by following the rules.

Like. I honestly think if Hunter didn't have an Official Rulebook to read through first, he wouldn't even blink at obeying rules that make no sense or are even actively unsafe to him and/or the customers and/or his fellow coworkers, because That's What The Boss(es) Said To Do, so clearly it must be Right.

Hunter would be all at once every manager's wet dream and worst nightmare, all at once, and it all depends on what he learns The Rules are first.

-Hunter seems like the type that would avoid taking bathroom breaks, even if he really shouldn't.

-Same with even just minor breaks where you just lean against a wall. (Hypervigilance go nyoom.)

-Same with requesting holidays off (assuming his job even let's him do that.)

-Wouldn't even blink at coworkers being shitty to him + one another, especially when stressed, even if the job advertising gave out the whole "We're a family!" bit. Because that's exactly what "family" (and "friends", until he met Luz and the others) is to Hunter.

-Also, needless to say, retail/server work would be absolute hell on his mental health, but lolsob, it's not like that'd be anything new to him. Absolute king of hiding his facial expressions/emotional pain or anger, once A Person In Authority (that probably reminds him of Belos) yells at him enough.

-Wouldn't even be surprised or complain about being put on double shifts for weeks on end, because what do you mean working for 14 hours in one day (sometimes all at once, sometimes- if you're lucky- with a shift in between) for a week or weeks on end is something to complain about?? No, he hasn't gotten much sleep or eaten much and yes he's exhausted, but why would that stop him from coming in to work on time??

-Same with bosses making you work/stay in store during bad weather, up to and including things like hurricanes or earthquakes.

-Or bosses making him work off the clock, even if it means coming in early, because "it's company policy" and he wants to Be Good.

Basically being abused and raised in a fucked up military cult really does train you to be an excellent little wage slave, is what I'm saying.

Somebody please get this boy some therapy.

in the process of answering this i ended up on an only barely related digression about how i see Hunter's relationship to authority throughout the series, which i may or may not turn into its own post, but -

i think the interesting thing here is that, yeah, Hunter's been raised to essentially be the perfect little wage robot in a lot of ways. he's very used to taking orders and following authority, even at the cost of his own health/happiness/safety. but he's also been raised to command, and shitposting aside, i think that looking at "Hunter works retail" only through the lens of his obedience neglects a crucial piece of the puzzle, which is that he's only obedient like that to someone who he has decided has that authority over him.

so like if he decided that the manager at McDonald's had the ability to order him around or tell him to work 14 hours straight or whatever, yeah, he would do it without complaining. but one thing about Hunter is that he seems to have a really keen understanding of hierarchy and where he fits into any given situation, and he is used to being obeyed as well as to obeying. for a bit there, he was basically the 2nd most powerful person in the entire government! by the age of 16 he was used to commanding fellow soldiers!

so basically i think you'd end up with an issue of, like, attitude. Hunter absolutely has a ton of traits that would make him a very good worker in terms of productivity, but in terms of like, interacting with the public?

he would be so bad at that. he is absolutely not going to take shit from some random asshole who turned their brain off the second they walked through the doors of his workplace. it's like if you tried to put the drill sergeant from Full Metal Jacket at the Walmart guest service desk.

his managers get to order him around because They Are In Charge, He Is Below Them In The Hierarchy, and he has plenty of conditioning to reinforce that idea, but nothing in his life has prepared him for accepting the level of abuse and overall dipshittery from the general public that food service/retail workers are expected to take with a smile and never, ever react to.

put Hunter in like, a warehouse, or the back of the store, or have him stocking, or assign him to like, picking delivery/pick-up orders or something? he'd do amazing. anything that requires interacting with the general public? he's going to jail.

#great at doing what he's told; terrible at politely suffering fools #hunter toh #the owl house #asks

[moonlightdancer26]

Tw for blood and gore.

So I have been absolutely a fan of snape terrifying fenir Grey back.

And it is with reasonable evidence (snape is a feral bastard your honor but he's competent and that's hot of him), I think I'm pretty sure what happened was this.

Scene :

Snape a young promising death eater still having to prove his worth, he's seen as the runt of the litter and quite literally a half blood.

And since voldemort was close with fenir absolutely 100 % death eaters and bad werewolf would just terrorize anyone.

This time it's snape, fenir gets a word about the werewolf incident (probs Pettigrew but I digress also I just think fenir can read minds so,,,).

Fenir can acknowledge snapes magical ability but he's also known to play with his food and 19 year old snape is something that reminds him of Remus lupin (I am so unsure if lupin had to be civil with fenir during the first Wizarding war as he was undercover), a person willing to prove himself his loyalty to cause that probably would discard him [:(].

It's a night where fenir had his fun but he's bored. He stares at snape and is ready to pounce at him.

But this is Severus motherfucking snape, he has been terrorized by the mauruaders and knows the crunch of leaves, aim to tackle him on the ground. He closes his eyes and waits for what's to expect.

Fenir pounces but mid air snape wordlessly says a curse and it feels like a bear trap and an crucio. Severus snape just fucking placed a cutting (sectumsempraed) his fucking mouth. He's bleeding profusely and looks at snape who's covered in his deatheater mask now having blood, his blood splattered. And the last look is one with terror, because he didn't think he'd die like this, and all he feels is relatively calm, levicorpus fenir thinks.

When he finally wakes up snape looks bored. "you tried to kill me" fenir says weakly, something is wrong. "haven't you heard, im a death eater besides it was an act of self defence" snape says annoyed.

Fenir tried to figure out what was lost and weakly gets up before he can even fully stand up another levicorpus is placed at him. Snape stares at him almost pleased to have a werewolf trapped in a spell of his own making. " I am pretty sure you have so many questions, allow me to answer them. I am not your little play thing, I can kill a man with or without you fenir" he spat.

"but it seems perphaps to make it even more succinct fenir, I wanted to prove a point" wandlessly he levitates to tiny shapry objects. And upon further inspection it's fenir canines. They have been clawed out. Fenir gives a cry of pain and anger before being silenced again "oh don't be dramatic, I haven't cut your hands off, besides the spell I placed will grow your teeth back, they won't be canines, but they will do" he says unbothered.

Snape removes the levicorpus charm and fenir falls down in pain. Fenir looks at snape terrified. "it's funny how you think I'm Remus lupin when I'm not. You may play with your food fenir but I? " snape laughs cruely, "remember that I dissect vermin like you for a living so I'm not scared of a little blood." he sneers at fenir before "and this" snape says holding the canines, "I suppose it's a good memrobila don't you think? I belive it makes my potions room homely". He chuckles before apparating leaving fenir in the dark under a half moon.

I. Fucking. LOVE THISSSSSSS

Thank you so much, anon, for sharing this with me. This sounds so interesting!!

#fenrir greyback #severus snape #pro snape #pro severus snape #snape #anti snaters #harry potter #hp

[brianwashere]

Hi so basically this was a short story I wrote for class right so that’s why it sounds like it is. If you guys want the expanded version just tell me. Sorry that the paragraphs are chunkier ://

I’m really playin with fire here, they got tumblr, man

Uhhhh I just thought some people would like ghoul boys content. It’s also told from Shane’s pov

Also read this as a crack fic bcc it def turned into one

⚠️THIS IS A PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP IT WILL NOT BE READ WITH ANY ROMANCE BCC SHIPPING REAL PEOPLE IS DISGUSTING IF I SEE ANY OF THEM SHIPPERS INTERACTING I WILL BE BLOCKING. IF SHANE OR RYAN SAY THEY ARE UNCOMFY WITH ANY FANFICTION OF THEM I WILL TAKE THIS DOWN⚠️

**i do not own any of the watcher or buzzfeed unsolved rights or anything like that**

Characters involved: Shane, Ryan, Crowley

Genre: short story(?) there’s a happy ending dw

Summary: Ryan discovers Shane is a demon then they like…go to court and stuff

Tw: mention of death, courtroom thing, Shane goes through some stuff, small fight scene

A Demon’s Tale

Look, I don't care what you believe in, but as far as I’m concerned that Dante fellow got it pretty accurate. It all started with me going undercover as a human in 100 B.C.--to tempt humanity and do other demon-y things. 

 For twenty years I worked diligently being a good–well, nasty–little demon. Then I got bored and traveled the world, easy when you can just teleport. Met that Jesus guy, a nice dude, and a good message he had going.

Fast forward 2000 years and there I was working as a ghost hunter with my best friend at Watcher. Our technical titles are “Paranormal Investigators”, but I digress. We basically just go to “haunted” locations and try to find evidence of the supernatural.  

 So that’s how I ended up standing in a “haunted” field in Ohio, halfway through Fall. Ryan, he’s my best friend, was talking to the camera explaining why this field was haunted. 

 “Think we’ll see a demon here?” I teased him. 

 “Shane, as much as I’d love to see you proven wrong, I really hope not.” Ryan nervously joked back. 

 I was the shows skeptic, wholeheartedly denying that the supernatural was real. Ryan, however, believed all that bologna. We kept walking further into the field until I noticed an off feeling in my throat, like trying to swallow a spoonful of honey. 

 My eyes scanned the brush line. Despite it being pitch black my demon eyes could see perfectly. That’s when I spotted it, there were two glowing red eyes staring at us from across the field. That wasn’t good. Apparently, some hobgoblin (a low-level demon) owned this field and did not take kindly to trespassers. 

 I glanced at Ryan, who was none the wiser. The hobgoblin would probably want him more than me; it was already eyeing him specifically. I needed to divert its attention toward me. Shaking my head, I sighed. 

 “Hey, you pathetic hobgoblin! If you want me off your field, you’re gonna have to kill me!” With confidence, I yelled in its direction. 

 “Shane! What are you doing? Stop!” Ryan whisper yelled. 

 Its beady red eyes snapped at me and with a snarl, it launched itself at me. I stumbled back in surprise but caught it by the shoulders and threw it backward. 

 "̶̱̼̥̯͍̫̑͊̈́̓̑̍̆͌̄͜͝Ḏ̷͖̈̀̎ĩ̷̤̞̱̲̣̖̻̬͓̺̇̍̈́̑̆͑̚̕͜s̷̢͓͎͇̱̰̎̀̍̅͆͒͗́̊͆͝͝c̵͉̟͛͑̾͒̒̉̑̾̌̿͜e̷̯̬̻̲͉̣̓̿́̽̕͠ḑ̸̢͉͕͎͓͈̱͔̮̪͂͊͂͊̍̿̑̊͗̀ę̵̫̝̯̝̞̼̮͖̮́́̆̎̈́̍͂̾͌̽̓͝!̶̘͔̰̫̣̓̓̏̔̾͑͠"̸̪̲͚͙̖͚̞̝̤̖̜̙̀͂͒̈́̇̑͌͌̕͘͝͠   It screeched at me. 

 Now, it's been a while since I've had to speak Beelzebabble, but you don’t always need to speak someone’s language to understand what they’re saying.

In this hobgoblin’s case, it was saying something along the lines of ‘Leave!’ but hey, that’s just speculation. I flashed my teeth, which had grown sharp; albeit an... outdated display of dominance but it seemed like an old-fashioned guy. 

 The hobgoblin seemed to understand that it would lose against me no matter what. He scampered off. I turned back to Ryan who looked like he’d just seen a ghost (funny because it was a demon). The silence was deafening, I awkwardly put my hands in my pockets and rocked back and forth on my feet, clearing my throat. 

 “So... crazy wind, right?” It was a pathetic attempt to brush off any ideas of the paranormal. 

 Ryan was a deer caught in headlights. His eyes blown wide and his mouth gaping. 

 “Shane--are... are you a demon?” He managed to stutter out. 

 I pursed my lips. He was never supposed to know. No one was ever supposed to know.

Breaking my cover to a human was one thing, but genuinely befriending one was unheard of. If Downstairs ever found out about this, they’d demote me back to Imp. No more sunshine and bright Earth to live on, just blood-red skies and 10 layers of pure agony. If that little hobgoblin snitched, I could be in deep. 

 “Hehe... surprise...?” I nervously laughed. 

 Emotions were one of those things I still can’t figure out, like the appeal of acupuncture or spicy food. I nervously wrung my hands as shock, distrust, and worst of all, fear washed over Ryan’s face. The shorter man took an uncertain step back. 

 “Who are you?” His voice was filled with fear but masked by hate. 

 “Ryan, hey it's still me, still your good ol’ pal, Shane Madej. Nothing’s changed.” I took half a step towards him.  

 It felt like I was trying to corral a stray dog.  

 “Stay back!” His voice wavered. 

 I glanced around nervously; at any moment a hoard of demons could appear to drag me back Downstairs and kill Ryan. 

 “Ryan, look, we can talk about this later but right now we need to go. Now. Before they come back with more.” I kept my voice as calm as I could. 

 Ryan also glanced around, picking up on my anxiety. 

 “Who?” He questioned when I didn’t elaborate. 

 “No one you wanna meet. Come on!” I insisted and began walking back to the car. 

 “No..." Ryan mumbled. 

 “No?” I mimicked, looking back at him. 

 “No!” He repeated, stamping his foot once. “No more secrets! Especially not ones that pertain to our job!” 

 “Ryan! Now is not the time!” I hissed. 

 “Shane--” He was cut off by a loud rumbling and shaking of the ground, suddenly chains wrapped around Ryan.  

 Two demons appeared clutching his arms, and they were gone as soon as they arrived. I whipped my head around in time to see another larger demon grab me and teleport me to Downstairs’ Courtroom. Literally. There was already a jury of demons there waiting.  

 “Your Dishonor, the defendant one, Shane Madej,” The ‘lawyer’ paused as the courtroom around me giggled or snorted, except for Ryan who couldn’t find the amusement in my name. “Was clearly violating several of the ‘Inferior Ideologies’ he pledged in 0 B.C.” 

 I kept my eyes on my claws as my leg bounced. The turkey-necked Judge raised a brow and turned to me. 

 “Shane Madej, how do you plead?” He asked.  

 It was more a formality than anything else; if you go to court in Hell then you’re doomed from the start. We got the whole ‘guilty until proven innocent’ thing going, and the defendant isn’t allowed a lawyer. Try that for unconstitutional.  

 “Uh, Guilty?” I responded meekly, raising my eyebrows and shrugging my shoulders. 

 “Well, I say that about seals it. Shane Madej, you will be burned in the bath of holy water and--” The judge was cut off by the doors to the courtroom slamming open and an out-of-breath-looking demon speed-walking to the center of the courtroom. 

 My head snapped up to look at who interrupted my trial. 

 “Your Dishonor, if I may,” His British voice rang out. “My client, Mr. Madej, was simply doing his job. As a hellion and instigator of evil-doing, breaking or ignoring rules and laws is his duty.”

He had round dark shades that covered his eyes with flame-red hair spiked forward and he smelled like old leather.  

 I raised an eyebrow.

Who was this guy?

The Judge’s eyes darkened. 

 “Crowley.” He spat scornfully. “You seriously expect us to drop all charges on this man because you think he was ‘doing his job’.”  

 Wow, this guy was the real deal if the Judge had heard of him. 

 “No, Sir. He may not get away without punishment, but I propose a punishment rarely used, discarded by time. So old and ridiculous that even you have forgotten it.” The red-haired demon tempted.  

 The Jury was on the edge of their seats. This Crowley guy really knew how to entertain. 

Z “I propose that Shane Madej and his friend, Ryan Bergara, be set free in exchange for Shane’s demon curse.” The Jury gasped and some lady in the front fainted. 

 “He can do that?” Ryan exclaimed. 

 The Judge’s eyes twinkled, and a sly grin spread across his face. 

 “It is acceptable…if Mr. Madej agrees, that is.” He challenged. 

 Everyone in the courtroom turned to me expectantly. My throat suddenly went dry; I gulped.  

 This can’t seriously be allowed, right? There’s no way. 

 Crowley gave me a pleading look. My eyes scanned the courtroom. Ryan stared at me, still chained to the chair. I furrowed my brow. 

 “I-...I accept.” I exhaled deeply.  

 “Then that does it! Shane Madej by the power vested in me by the Devil himself, I strip you of your demon curse and revoke all contact with the Devil and all of his underlings” The Judge exclaimed, sounding too enthusiastic for the punishment he condemned me to. 

 Suddenly my vision blurred. The world around me started spinning and I felt nauseous for the first time in my life. I stumbled out of the stand, collapsing to my hands and knees.  

 “Shane!” I distantly heard Ryan yell. 

 The room dimmed as I heard ‘ooohs’ and laughter. I gasped for air, something I'd never had to do before. The air was hot and jagged like burning serrated metal slicing my lungs.

I think I screamed but frankly, I can’t remember all that much from those seconds? Minutes? Hours? It all swirls together like a whirlpool of incoherent words and images. 

 I looked around the room, it was so dark I wondered if my eyes were closed. As they adjusted to the lack of light, I spotted Ryan. He looked ready to scream at any moment. I stood up, steadying myself on the stand. The Jury looked horrified. Crowley looked regretful. I rubbed my head and cleared my throat. 

 “Ready to go, Ryan?” I flashed a half-hearted smile. 

 He looked concerned but nodded all the same. Somehow in the process of me turning human he had been unchained. We turned to look at Crowley. 

 “Gentlemen, allow me to escort you out.” He announced. 

 Hurriedly, he placed a hand on Ryan and I’s shoulders and immediately we were by the van we drove here in. The morning sun was just beginning to rise over the tree line. I stumbled a bit, adjusting to my newfound humanity while Ryan looked queasy and held his stomach.  

 “Never...again.” He wheezed out. 

 “Crowley, how can I ever repay you?” I asked sincerely. 

 “Stay out of paranormal business the lot of ya’.” He answered quickly. 

 “Well, Ryan. Looks like we need to find ourselves a new job.” I said teasingly.  

 He just groaned and made his way to the passenger seat of the car. 

 “Seriously, man. I can’t thank you enough for getting me out of that pickle. Even if I'm less...me now.” I sighed. 

 “Shane, being a demon isn’t what makes you you. My best friend told me that, you’d be wise to listen to the advice.” Crowley responded. 

 I just nodded.  

 “Well, by now Crowley. See you later.” I waved as I got into the driver's seat of the van. 

 “If all goes well, hopefully, you won’t!” He called. 

 I grinned at his witty comment and turned the key, starting the ignition. Ryan was already asleep and snoring lightly. The dirt path shook the car; rocks and sticks let out various noises of complaint as the tires rolled over them. 

I pondered a while about the day’s events. Maybe being human was worse than being a demon, they do so many cruel things after all. I let out an amused huff as a thought crossed my mind. 

To think a Man's enemies are demons, but not human beings like himself is foolish.

#fanfic #fanfic writing #the watcher #buzzfeed unsolved #the watcher fanfic #demon shane #shane and ryan #shane madej #ryan bergara #buzzfeed unsolved fanfic #crowley #good omens #good omens fanfic #demon Crowley #the watcher good omens crossover #buzzfeed unsolved good omens crossover #crossover #crossover fanfiction #crossover fanfic #ghost files #ghost files fanfic

[saarasabaku]

DMC OC Week Day 2

Day 2-Round 1 Some small things before reading, this takes place a couple years after DMC5 so spoilers.

TW/CW: There are some mentions of Death, Murder, Violence, there's also some small glimpses of Saara's Amnesia and PTSD in here With the warnings given, lets get started

So Saara as you know it’s day 2 of DMC OC Week-

“Yes?”

So the people want to know more about you, specifically your relationships with the others.

“The others?”

Yah know, Dante, Nero and the rest.

Scoff

“Do we have to do this? I have much better things to do with my time than entertain this foolishness.”

Saara begins to leave

Hey come on, you're a famous Devil Hunter, don’t you want to entertain your fans?

The Primordial unfazed by the pleading, walks towards the exit

“No, not particularly”

The Interviewer runs to block her path, puppy eyes ready

So will you do it for me then? Please?

After a second of consideration, Saara holds up her hands in exasperation and defeat

“Fine! But be quick about it.”

Arm Pump

Yes! Come on let’s sit over here, get comfy

Everyone proceeds to sit on very comfy couches

Alright so let’s begin. First question, ooo this is a good one. What’s your opinion/connection to Dante?

“Ugh, Dante. You know if you talk about this man, you run the risk of summoning him, correct?”

Shrugs

I doubt he’s that bad, plus that isn’t really my problem, is it?

Sighs

“Oh he’s that bad but I digress.”

Saara took a moment to consider the question and a small smile appeared on her face before she answered

“Dante is… One of my closest friends. He took me in when the only one I had left me…”

A deep sadness flashed in the Primordial’s eyes for just a moment. It was gone just as fast and the smile was back

“We’ve been through quite a lot together and have had many ups and downs but he has remained steadfast in his friendship.”

Saara chuckles “He’s quite the pain in the ass but I love him regardless… But sometimes I do indeed wish to strangle him.”

Everyone shares a laugh before moving onWell enough about that Sparda aaaaand right on to another 

Saara tenses up a bit

Nero!

Saara visibly relaxes at the mention of his name

“Nero…”

Sounds like you love him quite a bit 

She chuckles 

“Indeed I do, he is like a son to me.”

…

“I’ve known him quite a long time now and he has been through so much…”

Yeah… He is so young and has already been through a hell of a lot 

“Yes… I know he is more than capable of handling it, Nero has more than proven himself…”

…

“But still I worry for him… Hopefully with the Redgrave incident long over his suffering will be kept to a minimum.” 

Yeah, hopefully. You ready to move on?

“You may proceed.”

Alright so who's next- Oh…

“What is it?”

…

“Speak. I can feel your disquiet and beyond that, it is written all over your face.”

…

“Who is-” It's V…

“Oh… I see.”

Saara’s voice dropped off as a sullen air overtook the room 

Yeah… If you don’t want to-

“No. It is quite alright. It’ll be good to remember my old friend.” 

Has it been that long?

“Not so long where time is concerned however, it feels like quite a long time to me.” 

Oh… yeah that makes sense

“I miss him…”

The Primordial touched a hand to one of the many braids scattered about her head.

It is one of the more prominent ones, in a place of respect. 

The braid itself is lavishly decorated like all the rest, with miniatures of V’s familiars adorning it. Griffon is nestled at the top of the braid, a small ways below in the middle is Nightmare munching on a little strawberry, and lastly there is Shadow curling around the braid's end, acting as the clasp. In Shadows grasp is V’s cane, which seems to hold the entire thing together. 

Saara was silent for a while, recalling memories with a sorrowful smile

Look we really don’t-

“I- We grew rather close in the short amount of time we knew each other…”

…

“He was the hidden part of Vergil, the part only I had gotten to see and yet… I did not immediately recognize him.”

…

“I think it was perhaps because V had become his own person, so much so that I could not recognize the colors of his soul entirely.”

…

“Even still that did not stop a friendship from forming.”

…

“Do you wish to know my fondest memory?”

Yeah, go ahead

“In the weeks before the first attempt to slay Urizen, V and I worked together quite a bit. Dante and his well meaning attempts to get me to work with a partner strikes again…”

…

Saara smiled softly before continuing 

“We would go to my apartment often and just… hang out. It was quite nice to have a friend who shared some of the same passions that I did. I haven’t had something like that since my time with Vergil… Which should have aided me in figuring out V’s true identity but I digress.”

…

“All his familiars would come out, and when I say all I do mean it. My darling little Nightmare… I miss it the most, I think.”

…

“Such a powerful being but ever the curious one. It always wished to be involved, so much so that it would condense itself down to miniature size and come out along with everyone else.”

Nightmare sounds like a real cutie :)

“Indeed, you would have loved it. Nightmare was rather sweet when outside of combat, for example it adored strawberries.” 

Strawberries?

“Yes, I have no idea why it was so fond of that particular food but it most certainly loved eating them.”

Could Nightmare actually eat? “Honestly, I couldn’t really say. I do know it loved to absorb tiny bits of food into itself, I suppose you could call that eating.”

Yeah I suppose that’s fair :)

Sigh

“I miss them quite a lot but I have not given up the hope that I may see them again. Perhaps one day I shall see them all again.”

Knowing you, you definitely will XD

Everyone shares a laugh before moving forward 

Alrighty! Next up is… Vergil

Saara chuckled and leaned back to get more comfortable then placed her ankle atop her knee

“We are just getting all of the Spardas out of the way, huh?”

Yeah it seems like it XD Hope you don’t mind this too much  I’m sure the people will appreciate it You’re a pretty big name in the devil hunting scene after all 

“Ah yes this is indeed true.”

The Primordial smirked, fangs peeking out slightly from the toothy grin.

She did indeed love it when people told tales of her achievements 

The Bladed Angel  And even one of the deadly Saints of Blood  Your reputation sure does proceed you

Saara blushes lightly at the praise and the mention of her Devil hunting team but her smug demeanor never drops.

“Yes, well being around as long as I have is bound to acquire someone as skilled as I some renown.”

Yeah it's so fucking cool- Wait… Are you blushing?! SAARA WHY ARE YOU BLUSHING?!?

She looked away, not answering the question.

The flush grew, spreading across her cheeks all the way up to the tips of her ears.

“I am not!” She hissed

Ooooh I know why :3 You’re thinking about that dreamy partner of yours aren’t you? ;3 What's the deal with you two huh? Care to give us all the scoop?

The Primordial’s eyes widened then quickly narrowed, glaring at the interviewer whilst still blushing profusely.

“Was this question not about Vergil?!”

:3

Evading the question huh? ;3 I get it, don't wanna share the spotlight with the other Saint of blood huh?

“Yes! T-that’s it!”

Saara’s voice was somewhat shrill and that double undertone was starting to slip in a little.

Oho! :3 There's something else isn’t there? ;3

“Cease this incessant prodding and move on!”

The air quivered in fear at the display of power.

No matter how small, even the suggestion of a threat was enough to put the room itself on edge. 

The interviewer however was unfazed 

Alright, alright No need to get touchy ;3 I’ll get it out of you eventually…

“What was that?!”

Nothing, nothing :3 So Vergil?

“Vergil, yes the eldest of the two Sparda twins. The man I pledged my loyalty to long ago and the very same guy who forced me to break that promise by sending me away, leaving him to fall into the Demon World… Which as you know caused bigger problems for everyone later on.”

Oh don’t worry  I’m sure everyone remembers what he did But that doesn’t answer the question

“Ah yes, what is he to me? Well as with the rest of the Spardas, he is very dear to me.”

…

“We’ve been through quite a lot. He is someone I pledged my eternal loyalty to and Vergil is also the very same person who has caused me quite a lot of harm.”

If he’s hurt you so much, then why are you still friends with him?

“Because Vergil is but a product of his trauma, just as I am. He did what he did because in his mind that was the only way to live. For the people he cared about to survive.”

…

“Do I fault him for choosing Strength above all else time and time again… No.”

The Interviewer’s face was full of questions but they said nothing.

They had a feeling it would be explained soon enough.

“Strength is everything to us… To Demons. I could never fault him for choosing the thing I chose. Does this absolve Vergil for the things he did? No.”

…

“Vergil is not only a Demon so accepting only one part of himself was never going to get him anywhere.”       

…

“I understand the choice he made, so even though he hurt me and people that I love, I have chosen to give him the chance to atone. Staying angry at him would have solved nothing, such feeling corrupt more than they help…”

So what?  You just forgive him for everything?

“Vergil is trying his best to improve, to change, to be better than he was. Do I forgive him…? Yes. What would be the point in harboring that anger forever?”

He just gets to get away with it then?

Saara sighed, annoyed at the interviewers lack of understanding

“We all must live with the consequences of our actions… He is no different. 

My forgiveness was for me alone, I did not see the point of holding on to that rage.

However I will never let him forget what he has done.”

So forgive but never forget so it's easier to move forward and so it won’t happen again…

“Precisely, you finally figured it out” 

The Primordial smirked in jest as the Interviewer rolled their eyes

“And Vergil wouldn’t dare break the Oath he swore to me by straying from this path he’s on…”

He swore an Oath to you? “Mhmm, on the day Urizen was defeated, Vergil gave his blood to help me recover from the damage I had sustained from being used by the Qliphoth…”

Saara’s eyes clouded over as she briefly recalled the memory 

It wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience for her, being drained by the Qliphoth for as long as she was, had left her body battered. Had Vergil not given his blood, she could have been in stasis for months, perhaps years while she recovered. A seemingly endless sleep would have taken her. It was still painful for her to recall even now, years later. Sometimes Saara still wakes up in the middle of the night screaming from a pain that no longer exists. 

Hey Saara… You ok?You can stop if you want 

The Primordial shakes her head

“There is no need, but thank you. This tale is almost at its end.”

Alright

“Once I had regained my faculties enough to be conscious, the intensity of Vergil’s emotions gave me quite the headache. He was so distraught, worried that I had died even though he knows full well I cannot…”

Saara chuckled somewhat bitterly before continuing    

“In his emotional state he made a promise to me. A pledge to never cause me that kind of pain again… The blood he gave me sealed the deal the moment it was made. A promise made with so much intent it instantly became a binding Oath.”

So that’s why you trust him so much… “No, even without this Connection of ours I would trust him regardless. He is my family, we have been through much together. I believe in Vergil and his ability to change for the better. He may have lost his way once… but with all he has to walk beside him now Vergil will be fine.”

I-

The Interviewer takes a moment to ponder what has been said to them

Then a soft smile appears on their face

He’s lucky to have someone who can trust him like that Who’ll stick by him no matter what

Saara smiles somewhat smugly 

“Isn’t he?” ;p    

The Interviewer laughs at the joke

“In truth I always trusted him to find his way… As soon as we crossed blades the first time I knew there was no true evil motivating him. Just the desire to protect what he had left… A sentiment I understood, which was why I pledged my loyalty to him in the first place.” 

I can understand that Plus you couldn’t just leave him alone could you? “No one deserves to walk a dark path alone… Especially if it was one they never wanted to walk.”

The Interviewer smiles softly

You’re really kind you know…

Saara looked at the Interviewer with narrowed eyes but a huge blush had begun to creep into the Demon’s features.     

“S-silence. Did you not have more questions?”

The interviewer laughs at the Primordial’s embarrassment 

Alright, alright next up is… Nico

“That woman… is an artist, a true master of her craft.”

…

“I myself also dabble in weapon smithing, almost every weapon I wield is handcrafted by me. So her skill is something I can most definitely appreciate.”

Oh wow, so you’ve made every weapon you use? That’s so cool, but why?Couldn’t you just use Devil arms instead? 

“Almost all my weapons… And no Demon is worthy of being wielded by me. All some are good for is to serve as my playthings, nothing more. The rest… aren’t even worth killing.”

Saara’s tone held contempt, while her face suggested indifference. 

She didn’t like most of the Demons that lived now, creations of Mundus or worse, allies to him. The Primordial hated them all, hence why she now works the job she does. Obviously Saara knows not all of her kin are this way but sometimes not even that matters…

I see… O-OWait, which weapon didn’t you make then? “My Katana, Araksha. Vergil was the one who gifted it to me… Made by his own hands, so I’m told.” Can’t you tell? “The energy left behind by his intent, his feelings while making it. They linger on the blade even now. I can read them all so clearly… It’s… Quite the precious gift .”

Thats super cute 

“Yes, quite.”

…

“However, back to Nico, she has quite the spunk. I rather enjoy her presence and she  is really fun to hang out with.” 

Well alrighty then, there you have it folks-

“Who are you talking to?”

What? Oh, no one I’m just adding to the mood. Alrighty so now… Kyrie?

Saara’s eyes glimmer, sparkling with adoration.

“I love her… just as much as I do Nero, the both of them bring me such joy. The work Kyrie does is especially honorable and I am truly glad to know her.” 

Yeah she’s pretty great from what I hear Taking care of those kids on top of having her own to deal with. That’s real good of her. 

“Yes, oh how I adore those children. All of them are so sweet and beautiful, much like Kyrie herself truly. She has such a way with them, it's a rather heartwarming sight.”

Do you go over a lot? To see them all?

Saara looks a bit sad for a moment and shakes her head

“Not as much as I’d like, but when I am free I try to. I’ll go over and bring them a meal on occasion or just to pay a visit. But I am often very busy with my work… I feel as though I should not use that as an excuse considering…”

The Primordial looked extremely guilty 

Hey, I’m sure they don’t fault you for not being able to come over all that much. I mean Nero’s a Devil Hunter too, he understands.

“It is as you say. I know that but… I must make more of an effort. Perhaps we can visit for the holidays…”

:3 Whose we? ;3

“Ki- NO ONE!” 

Uh huh ;3 Of course, no one Oh don’t worry folks, we’ll get there ;3

“I- Ugh just get on with it!”

:3 Alright, next is… Oh… Ok so, remember we can stop at any time.Saara waved her hand dismissively 

The Dark Knight Sparda

The Primordial’s face became a mask, not a single emotion was present on it. 

However her anger was palpable

“He murdered my father and assisted in the slaughter of my people, what else is there to say.”

I mean you must have some stronger opinions

“I would be honor bound to kill him if he still lived. I despise him with every fiber of my being and am only saddened that I did not get to erase him from this realm myself…”

I see… o-o That most certainly is stronger

Anything else?Saara wrinkles her nose in disgust

“No.” Well last on the list is uh Mundus…

Sigh

“He is the one who ordered the slaughter of my people. That cowered murdered my-”The Primordial looked extremely confused.

What was she about to say? Who else was killed besides her Father?

Saara’s heart squeezed from the sadness of not being able to remember.  They were so important and yet she could not recall them Who were they? Why did the very thought of them make her so very sad? Saara could answer none of these questions and was unsure if she’d ever be able to…

Saara? Hey Saara? Are you ok? The Interviewer looked at the Primordial with a look of concern

“I- yes… I apologize…”Saara looked off into the distance, a haunted look on her face now.

“... As I was saying Mundus murdered my… Family to weaken my Father. Using trickery and deceit instead of the strength he claimed to have. Mundus did not even have the balls to challenge my Father head on and even after he was weakened that coward could not even deal the final blow himself.”

The longer Saara spoke, the more her face displayed the disgust she felt.

The very air simmered with her rage. …

“Mundus ordered Sparda to do it… I only wish I could have killed them both. Maybe that would have brought my mind some peace… Regardless, may he rot and be forgotten.”

Well there it is then, worst demon king ever

“Hmm, true.”

Well that’s the end of today's questions, see you next time folks 👋🏽

#dmcocweek #dmc #dmc oc #devil may cry #my writing #dmc saara #DMC Saara #Day 2-Round 1

[the-leftfield-files]

[TW - Bugs & Self-harm]

>FILE ACCESSED - DATE 12/2/22, TIME 1:03 AM.

>FILE STATUS - CLASSIFIED

Officially, I don't exist anymore. I'm dead, been that way for a long time now. That's not true for everyone who works in my field, some of them get to keep their lives intact. Not me, I dove in head first when I found out what we did and almost didn't live to regret it. My thoughts on that have changed since then. What we do should be public knowledge - the things that hurt people shouldn't be kept secret for a bullshit reason like "The public is too chaotic" or whatever they say nowadays to the new guys. I may get caught, I may not, I hope by spreading this on a site like this there will be a significant delay between my whistleblowing and my death, but we'll just have to see. Continue reading at your own discretion.

It was November 28th, 1965. I was being dispatched to a possible sighting of what we called "Watchers". I think these days people like to call them "Hide Behinds”, which is a much less succinct name but I digress. I was driving from D.C. to Utah, and this was back before they decided to start sticking us with partners. That was after ‘66, I don’t really know what drove the change but I’d be dead many times over if not for my old partner. Damn, thinking back I really wish I had one when this went down, but all I had to accompany me on my drive was the radio. Not exactly the top tier conversationalist unless you’re half insane.

Like I said though, D.C. to Utah. I was getting used to the feeling of being out of my depth, but somewhere in the middle of nowhere Kansas something started prickling my sixth sense. One thing that one of the other guys told me when I started working was to never ignore that feeling. It’s not an end all be all. It doesn’t always help, and it’s just pretty vague in general, but better to react to it when its nothing than ignore the cause of your death.

It was near 10 P.M. at the time, already far too late into the night for me to have been driving but I… well I was still trying to be a human being I guess. Wanted to get to Utah before the damn thing had a chance to kill again. The cornfields around me were impossible to see through, but I looked anyway. I didn't dare slow down my car in case whatever it was attempted to attack me, but as the feeling kept getting more and more powerful I could feel the terror creeping in. What was it? What was out here in the fields that could keep up with a car?

I almost hit it before I realized the other possibility. Something that looked like it had once been a man was standing on the side of the road. I slammed on my breaks and swerved to avoid hitting it, my car spinning out in a half circle and ending up facing it. As I calmed down, I got a better look at it. It's head was at an odd angle, and I could tell from the light my car was cascading upon it that the left leg had been stripped of flesh down to the bone. So, I of course, did the smartest thing possible, and slowly stepped out into the cold night air. It continued shuffling down the road, and even from the distance that I was at I could hear the odd clack of bone hitting the cement.

An important thing to note is that most of these fuckers are flesh and blood. They exist in the material world and can be stopped; or at the very least significantly injured by material things. I drew my service weapon and felt significantly calmer with the cool steel in my hand. As I heard the safety click, the thing stopped but didn’t turn around towards the sound. I thought something along the lines of 'Zombie, okay, first I've heard of them but I'm sure I just missed something.', and in my defense there was a lot of information I was told to comb through in only about a week, so it wasn't too small of a possibility for me to have missed something. Another important thing is that some of these creatures are pretty damn intelligent, around as smart as humans or smarter, so I thought I'd give it a chance to talk before I did anything.

"My name is Agent Fletcher, part of the Leftfield program. Who are you?" I yelled, my voice more jittery than I would have liked.

The smarter guys would know what we were, and those that didn’t, well… the creature twitched, and then slowly began to turn towards me. I watched in horrible fascination as it turned and I got a look at its face. The flesh around his skull was fully eaten away, revealing a writhing mass of insects underneath. They were everywhere in him, now that I was looking I could see them crawling out of the corpse from every opening. They escaped through his ears, his leg, even burrowing out of the rotting flesh in a mad scramble. It was almost too late before I realized what they were scrambling for. They were coming out of the ground as I was frozen in fear, staring into the empty sockets of the man. Oddly enough, a single centipede, much larger than the rest, was staring back at me. I could barely see its black beady eyes, however there was a deep hatred in them that kept me frozen. As the first of the bastards tore through my leg the pain brought me to action.

I began squashing them left and right and started running to my car. Every step must have crushed hundreds of tiny insects all trying to rip into my flesh. They were at least as far as my calf by the time I managed to get into my car, and as I slammed the door, I definitely heard an audible crunch. I fumbled in terror for a moment as the bugs filled all windows of my car, surrounding me in darkness and burying me beneath a squirming mass. I hit the gas not caring if I hit the fields. As my car accelerated past 75 mph the things started to fly off of the windows by themselves, and I could hear the sound of bugs being crushed by my shitty windshield wipers. I knew, however, that I wasn’t safe. I could hear them in the car, crawling all around me but just out of eye sight. I knew I couldn’t stop at least for another couple of minutes before I was far enough away from whatever the hell the thing was.

Every few moments, I saw something poke out of the different parts of my car. I could see them worming their way into the different instruments on my dash, trying to find their way to me. It wasn’t long before they found their way to the air vents, and I quickly grabbed my knife from the glovebox and began stabbing them. I heard their hissing comming from all around me not long after, and another terror began to encroach on me as I felt some make their way from the seat into my leg, and I slammed on the breaks and ran from my car.

The pain was sharp, piercing. I felt hundreds of tiny needles stabbing into me, consuming me from the inside out. I didn't know what to do at first, in shock from the pain, but as they began moving upwards, I quickly thought of a solution. I had my knife. I had a lighter in my pocket. I had some number of bugs trying to burrow up through my skin towards my head. I got the first ones relatively easily, ignoring the smell of burning flesh and the searing pain. After that, the bugs quickly learned and started burrowing deeper than any wound has ever gotten, and I was forced to follow.

It took me four minutes. Four minutes of hell, scarring myself and waiting for one of the fuckers to slip up and move close enough to the surface for me to get it with the knife. Self preservation opens the window to absurdity.

Luckily it was dark enough that I could barely see the damage. I had solved the first issue, and I dared a trip back to my car to grab my medical supplies, managing to retrieve enough of them to stem the worst of the bleeding, so I was in no immediate danger of death anymore. I sat there, in the darkness, for a few minutes, with every itch and tingle driving me insane.

How would I know if I had gotten all of them? How would I know that there wasn't one who could mask itself better and was about to reach my brain? Was that lump always there on my skin? What part of the pain that I was experiencing was the damage I had done to myself? Was it actually the pain of something moving under my flesh, one that I had missed? Suddenly, a bright light illuimated me and I turned towards the culprit. A car was driving down the road, and as it reached me, it began to slow. I limped over as he fully stopped, seeing a middle aged man. After a quick lie about a car accident, he agreed to take me to the nearest town.

I spent the rest of the evening in the hospital. I didn’t sleep, something in me was sure that if I did the bugs would start crawling out of the sink, out of the different cracks in the ground, ready to finish the job. I convinced the nurse at the ER that I needed to be off, only really managing to do so because of my badge. Around 3 A.M. or so, I found myself in a motel, devising a plan to take the thing down. Fire, certainly, was my best bet. I tried my best to sleep after that, but it was mostly fruitless. I woke to every ache that my body felt, and every tingle that could be the signal that something else was taking control. The next morning, I went into a gas station, buying a six pack, a liter of gasoline, and some rags. The man at the counter gave me an odd look, but nobody really questions you if you look like a ‘G-man’. I got a ride back to my car from someone else, and after inspecting everything to make sure something else wasn’t hiding in it, all I could do was sit around and wait.

I spent two more days in that town, some of the longest in my life. The anxiety, the pain, my nerves were shot to hell too. Three people disappeared from the nearby farms during that time. Three people I didn't save because I couldn't think fast enough to create a solution when I first saw the bastard. I’ve gotten better since then, but I’m not perfect. I know some of the guys on the force let it ruin them, and I refuse to let that happen. Can’t be much help if I’m too busy fighting my own demons, now can I?

When it finally decided to show itself again, I was ready to leave, half convinced that I needed to just head off to the main purpose of my trip. I was looping around the town on the back roads when I saw it. The thing had taken a different body by then, the new guy was much fatter and as I approached, I could already see the signs of decay and consumption that the swarm had left on its new victim. As I calmly stepped out of my car, it didn’t stop moving and kept its slow pace forward. I grabbed a molotov, and only then did it stop as the few bottles I had clinked against each other. After the first bottle started burning, I could see the bugs beginning to climb out of the ground, but I was ready this time. Three bottles in I could hear the things inside of their terrible rotting abode screaming and popping in the heat. I used another two to burn the excess bugs that were attempting to attack me, or maybe they were trying to escape at that point. The last one I used on the corpse after it had started to calm down, burning it even longer. Afterwards, I managed to find a bit of the original centipede which had stared at me, and placed it inside of a small metal tube for further examination.

I only gave myself another day of rest before I continued on my journey. In Colorado I connected with another agent from the program. He had been informed that I would be passing through and we were to check in with each other. I’d learned that this practice was pretty typical, if someone failed to show up, the other agent would be tasked with going to solve their last known case in the possibility that they had died on the way or had died in the line of duty. I barely made it to the rendezvous, the other agent was about to leave before I managed to catch him in a coffee shop.

It was a small, rundown place. Honestly, the only reason I noticed it was because of his vehicle parked outside of it. The inside was no better, but we met eyes and the man nodded his head in what seemed like a mixture of relief and greetings. After I told my story to him I finally learned the bastard’s name.

“I’ve always called them ‘Hosts’, but I think some of the guys in the science division have a more technical name for them.” He informed me, rubbing the back of his neck and ordered me a drink. “Fire… that’s the best you’ll get. I think we lost a guy a few years ago 'cause he had the brilliant idea to try and shoot the damn things."

We paused for a moment as the barista brought me my coffee, and after I took a sip I replied "Yeah, I didn't really know anything else to attack them with. Pesticides maybe?"

We both laughed at that one before he gave me a serious look "You sure you got all of them Fletcher?"

"Y-yeah. I'm sure I would have felt it crawling in me if I hadn't, right?"

He just nodded and mumbled something into his coffee as he took another sip. As we sat there in silence, I couldn’t ignore the sudden feeling of an itch on my leg, but I tried my best to ignore it. Suddenly, he stood and paid for both of the drinks, beginning to head out.

"Well, I'll be off then. You're behind schedule as is, best you get going too."

"No rest for the wicked, right?"

I've never forgotten his smile as he walked out of the cafe. It was a mix of pity and knowing, a smile that haunted me with its secrets. I suspect my own looks similar these days, coupled with its own stories behind it. My leg always begins to ache slightly when I think about that job. I still humor the possibility that I'm being driven by a bug from time to time, but regardless of the odd tingles that I get, I try not to dwell on it anymore.

So, monsters are real - the things that kids whine about in the night, the things that kill or impersonate hikers in the wilds, and even things that fry the mind by trying to properly comprehend. They're real. Not all of them mind you, Steven King is just fiction, but some people have had a connection to something paranormal. I genuinely believe Lovecraft tapped into something like what I'm talking about, Cthulhu isn't real but there's definitely something like it - you get the point.

The official program, titled "Project Leftfield", gets its money from the U.S. military's budget. There's so much money moving in and out of there that no one is going to miss the funding for a few hundred guys. We had a close call back in '66 with the FOI act, really had to go blackout then, wiped all internal actions with the FBI. Turned out to be the best damn thing that happened to the program. The director was essentially his own boss, had to occasionally give a report to some anonymous congressmen, say something about how our actions were "keeping the peace, and making excellent progress" or something like that and he got a million dollars pushed his way. They didn’t care anyways. In those days, they were much more likely to skim some into their own pockets rather than look at us twice.

Don’t ask me who founded the program, I don’t know. Our current director, [REDACTED], is always vague when I ask him any questions that don’t directly pertain to the line of duty. All I know is that he’s not the first one, and that according to some coworkers, he’s “significantly better than the last.” so I’ll be avoiding the question until I need to ask it. Occasionally you’d get someone going on a power trip as we were still figuring things out, but that mostly settled down as the years went on.

To any god that cares, my name is Agent Fletcher and I hope to continue sharing these stories.

>ADDITIONAL NOTES -

Wish you the best wherever you ended up, Fletcher.

#fiction #horror #short story #case file horror #self-referential

[mrlucaj]

Hey all! Please read this at your own digression. It may be triggering to some and for that reason I do not advise to read it if you are easily triggered.

TW: sch00l sh00t!ngs, teacher student relationships. Prison. Large age gap.

PLEASE DONT READ IF YOU ARE NOT READY FOR SOMETHING INTENSE!!!!

The music was beaming, shouting and screaming all through the halls. I turned my head to see the bodies of the people who once shamed me.

I found myself running towards the sounds of the gun, being punished by the sight of bodies of the newly deceased. I was unaware of why they all fled from me. They always liked pushing me around before. What was different now. Because I was the one pulling the trigger? What was so scary about me now. They didn’t want this? They always told me to pull the trigger. I did it. I pulled it. Now they have to face the consequences.

I could hear the sirens in the distance, approaching slowly. I wanted to pull the trigger one last time. I never wanted any of this.

What had become of me.

Why did I do this. What coerced me I to thinking this was the right thing. Only one thing was going through my mine right now. It was her. The only person to ever show me the ever lasting love my parents failed to show me. She must think I’m a monster. All I ever was love. Its never going to change. How can I live with myself after all of these deeds.

I flood the blood bath, searching for her. I dropped the guns and the ammunition. And I headed towards her class room. I knew I couldn’t take back what I had done. But I had to tell her I was sorry. I approached her classroom and she was there. Sitting on the floor outside. Tears were dripping from each eye, flooding out like a waterfall.

I approached her, she flinched and told me to stay back. She knew what I had done. I fell to the floor, drenched in the blood of my fellow class mates. I tried to apologise, but before I could even get a word out she was standing in front of me. Her hand was held out, I stood up and she pulled me towards her and hugged me tight. She told me it was all going to be okay. My body towered over her, she was short with brown thick hair but her smile had disappeared until our eyes met once more. I pulled her closer closing the gap between us. I leant in and our lips connected, it was amazing. Once it was over, she told me that she loved me; before I could say it back she blurted out that she was going to take the blame for my sins.

I couldn’t help but gasp. She looked at me with a sincere grin, we both knew that we would end up in the county prison together. The way it was supposed to be. Her and I, nobody in between. She was who I wanted to be with. The sirens got louder, and we walked out together. Hand in hand, she was much older than me. 13 years older in fact. She didn’t care that I was not cis gendered. She loved me for me. She loved my twisted fantasies.

I knew I couldn’t let her go down for this, the cops didn’t believe me. She did the same thing about me. As I thought she was off the hook, we found ourselves in the county jail. Life in prison for us both. We were even cell mates. I couldn’t help but think this was her plan all along.

We began to spend every waking moment together, stealing secret kisses in the bathrooms. We were perfect for each other. We did everything hand-in-hand. She was always on my mind, but I always thought she was having second thoughts. I was wrong of course. She asked me to marry her with a ring made of a n old soda lid. Each night we made a nice “homemade” meal. It wasn’t an ideal life, but we were together that’s all that mattered.

#fake story #transgender #may be triggering #terror #teacher student love #read at your own discretion