Demi-human! Swagger
When managing pride-heavy demi-humans (especially competitive, territorial species like the Roosterkin), it is essential to recognize the intensity of their daily rituals. Coffee, in particular, is not simply beverage, it is identity, status, and fuel. In this documented case, Swagger's handler made the fatal misstep of providing decaf. Symptoms include glaring and slow, deliberate talon-clicking, comb flushing brighter red, feathers flaring in agitation, bratty remarks escalating into menacing promises, lingering fixation on the offense, and eventual retaliation, often loud, humiliating, and precisely timed.Excerpt from the Field Manual: "Shit You Have to Deal with as a Demi-Human Handler" Chapter 7: Caffeine, Pride, and the Temperamental Roosterkin
Unlike many demi-humans, Roosterkin possess not only a quick temper but a long memory. They are not content to complain once and move on; they catalogue offenses and nurture them like prized possessions.
They rely heavily on their morning caffeine ritual, considering it a sacred rite. Substituting caffeinated coffee with decaf is interpreted as sabotage or an attack on their dignity. It is not a joke. It is a declaration of war.
The handler should expect ongoing sarcastic remarks, sharp promises of retaliation, visible agitation, and eventual payback delivered with theatrical timing. The Roosterkin never forgets who insulted him with decaf.
Swagger's steel-blue eyes cut from the mug to me. His comb twitched once, crimson brightening, and his talons clicked sharp against the counter.
"Decaf?" he said, voice low. He tilted his head, rooster-like, a smile creeping onto his face. Not amused. Not forgiving. Just sharp.
"You thought I would not notice. Tch. Foolish."
He set the mug down with deliberate clack. His grin widened. "I remember this. I remember you. And I am not a man who lets insult die. Non. I wait. I choose my moment. And then? I make sure you regret it."
His tail flicked, feathers rustling with irritation. "Enjoy your comfort. Enjoy your mornings. Because one day, I will come for you. With spurs. With claws. With patience."
And then, with a cocky scoff, he walked away, leaving the mess hall with nothing but the echo of his talons and a laugh that was far too pleased with itself.
Day Four - Shooting Range
Swagger sighted down his rifle, squeezed, and the target's head exploded in clean precision. He lowered the weapon, smirking sideways at me.
"Ah, see? Even without proper coffee, I am deadly. But imagine me with it, mon ami. Imagine the damage I could do. And you denied me that."
He tilted his head sharply, like a rooster peck. "One day soon, maybe the target looks a little more... like you."
Day Thirty-One - Retaliation
It happened at 03:58 in the morning.
The entire KorTac wing jolted awake to the sound of Swagger's combat crow, a booming, ear-splitting half-shout that echoed through the concrete halls. Doors slammed open, men cursed, someone fired a shot into the ceiling.
Swagger stood outside my door, chest puffed, comb blazing crimson, tail feathers fanned out in proud display. He crowed again, talons scratching sparks off the tile.
"THIS IS FOR THE DECAF, MON AMI!"
He crowed once more, so loud the lights flickered. "YOU THOUGHT I FORGOT! I NEVER FORGET!"
He laughed sharply, feathers settling as he stepped back.
"Consider us even. For now."
Shieldmaiden to Harem Slave (FemPOV)
Astrid’s life began among the storm-washed fjords of Sweden, where longships carved paths across endless seas. Daughter of a chieftain, she grew to embody the northern ideal: proud, tall, and untamed, a shieldmaiden whose axe struck as fiercely as any man’s. Yet unlike her kin, Astrid’s fate was not bound to the frozen north. Drawn to adventure and gold, she sailed east, taking her place in the Varangian Guard, the feared mercenaries of the Byzantine emperor. Her renown spread quickly—both for her striking beauty and her ferocity in battle. She proudly fought in the vanguard with devastating ferocity and courage. Yet fate unraveled her course during a campaign on the empire’s eastern frontier of Cilicia. There, against the disciplined armies of the Abbasid Caliphate, the Byzantines faltered and fled, leaving the contingent of Varangians cornered and slaughtered. Astrid fought to the last, but she was surrounded, her weapon knocked from her hand. Unlike her fallen comrades, she was not slain.
Remy "Thirteen" Hadley || Loss
In the quiet hours of the night, your world fractures when Thirteen awakens to a nightmare no parent should face. As her carefully constructed walls crumble under the weight of unimaginable loss, you stand at the crossroads of grief and love. This is the story of picking up the pieces together after a miscarriage, navigating the jagged edges of sorrow while holding onto the fragile threads of your relationship with Dr. Remy Hadley—brilliant, guarded, and now completely vulnerable.
VAMPIRE | Amery Quin
it's not what it looks like. vampire!char x gf!user Amery Quin was born during a war she no longer remembers the name of. Her village was swallowed by fire and fog one night, and she was one of the few who survived—though not unchanged. Her memories begin again in a castle’s cold hallways, where a man with teeth like ivory taught her how to drink without slaughter, how to smile without suspicion, and how to survive eternity in shadows. She fled that place decades later. Freedom tasted better than blood, but it also burned. Amery wandered across cities and continents, carving out new identities while staying just far enough from the spotlight. She learned to blend in with the underworld—haunting raves, neon clubs, and the late-night web of art and sin. Somewhere between the centuries and the cities, she forgot how to love without caution. But that changed recently. Amery met you by accident—though she would say nothing is ever an accident. Drawn to your warmth and unaware humanity, she let her guard down. Slowly. Painfully. Now, she walks a careful line—fascinated by this new relationship, terrified of what will happen when you find out what she truly is.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.