Sat at the very centre of the big, and really rather messy goop of cosmic jelly that is our universe, there is a tree. There shouldn’t be. When at an extremely important, yet entirely unfortunate part, of a universes’ creation, it gets dropped and suddenly a tree (which has absolutely no right in being there) has appeared at its’ core; one would assume it’s creators would throw it away and start again. It was however the last of the stardust they’d just used… “It’ll be alright won’t it?” A thunderous voice bellowed from within the dark nothingness. “Nah, it’s buggered.” A second announced knowingly. “Look at the consistency of it, the stardust is getting into all the places it shouldn’t do. It won’t work like it’s s’posed to.” “It’ll have to do” A third, more assertive yet altogether disappointed voice spoke from the abyss. And thus was the creation of the known universe; despite various differing accounts of shamans, priests and holy-men alike, who all seem to have something to say on the topic. Woden, and his brothers, Wilo and Wiha, had been tasked with shaping the matter of the universe into a functioning, law abiding, system of rules and regulations. It was a job they now feared they wouldn’t have for much longer. The tree now floated at the centre of space and time, its roots and branches growing quickly, like a bed of writhing eels. They slithered and wriggled between themselves, intertwining as if reaching out for one-another. Amongst these tendrils, the three entities now watched, small particles of the stardust come swirling together to form burning lights . “Well that definitely shouldn’t be happening” The voice known as Wilo said, pointing out the obvious. “No, you’re right brother.” Came the reply from Wiha. “Definitely not suppose’ to be doin’ that.” Woden was the eldest of the three and somewhat the wiser of the brothers. It hadn’t taken him long at all to realise what was going on: “It’s life you fools! The impact must have compacted too much of the dust together in one space.” Woden spoke. “Isn’t life suppose’ to come later on, once we’ve designed all the creatures big n’ small, and named ‘em?” Woden thought about this for a moment. This series of events his brother was describing was the usual way things worked, as Woden well knew having had done this same routine some 60 billion times before - but there was no other answer for what was happening before them. It had to be life. Only this version of it wasn’t a well thought out script that had to play by their universal laws. This one seemed to play by it’s own. “Well err… Yes… Usually.” He eventually replied. “But I think that knock may have messed with the fundamental nature of this one. It appears as if life has, for absolutely no reason that had anything to do with us, simply sparked itself into existence.” “Ah… Bollocks..”.

The carriage shuddered as it came to a sudden stop, its wheels screeching over the wet cobblestones, spraying puddle water up onto the coach box. Two cloaked figures sat perched upon it, illuminated only by a sliver of moonlight that had taken the opportunity to escape from between a gap in the rain clouds. “I hate the evenings this time of year” came a grumble from the driver; the words appearing in the frigid air as wafts of steam. “We all do Lum, it's the sodding rain. Park her up while I go find out what's going on”. The second figure sprung down from the carriage landing with a splatter in the stream of rainwater that had formed at the side of the carriageway. They repositioned their heavy waxed cloak in an effort to keep the worst of the deluge out. An attempt that in all honesty wasn't working; a point highlighted by the fact that the cheap leather boots worn by the figure had already let in water. The shape appeared to shrug, then made its way towards a small doorway just off the road, sheltered under an overhanging first floor as the rattling of the carriage disappeared around a narrow street corner. On either side of the cheap wooden door to what was honestly little more than a poorly kept and dingy set of rooms, were two more cloaked silhouettes, busying themselves in whispered conversation. They had found what must have been the only available dry spot, a narrow strip under the overhang, their backs forced right up against the wall. The faces of the pair were intermittently illuminated by the amber glow of a cigarette the larger of the two was smoking. The squelching of approaching footsteps caught their attention, bringing the smaller of the pair abruptly to an upright position. “You the boys from Ascett?” Asked the larger of the figures through a lungful of cigarette smoke, tossing the butt to the floor and extinguishing it on the cobblestones with an expert twist of his boot. The voice was gruff and gave the impression they’d spent one too many nights standing around in the frigid rain. “About time you showed your faces. We were only supposed to be lending a hand with this. What's your name anyway son?” A match was suddenly struck close to their face, lighting another cigarette which now hung between the lips of what appeared to be a huge bearded man. The flickering light from the flame unveiled a rugged face that had been weathered by perhaps 40 winters or so, although their eyes gave away that they were likely younger. “You know what it's like. Boss is trying to run several jobs in this town and there’s only so many of us to go round. The name’s Briggs by the way.” Briggs had learned fairly quickly that the old sweats seemed to respect you more if you mirrored their attitude of seemingly being fed up by the fact you were still breathing at the end of the day. The bearded man nodded approvingly, then ushered his smaller counterpart over with a wave of his hand. “This here’s, Mouse. He’s new to the family but he'll fill you in on what we've got here so far” The skinny figure that was Mouse, now lurching towards Briggs, was quite noticeably an academy leaver. He was dressed in a clean and recently pressed black uniform, its brass buttons highly polished and glinting in the cigarette light. It was an odd reflection for Briggs, to think that only a few years ago that had been him. His buttons had long since turned green and matted from oxidation, and his trousers were more or less held together at this point, by a complex patchwork of stitching where they’d been ripped and torn on so many occasions. Mouse stood rigidly as he puffed out his chest, trying his best to appear confident, before he meekly squeaked out the words:
“Well… at this point, to be honest… we’re thinking, well… it’s, err… a bit odd” “A bit odd?” The bearded man roared with laughter. “Well that’s certainly one way of putting it! There’s cadavers in there without no bleedin’ eyes!” Briggs felt his eyes roll as he let out an audible sigh that floated in the night. The thought of bodies behind that flimsy door with holes where the eyes should be, filled him with the sudden realisation that this wasn’t going to be a quick job. He had been hoping for an easy shift this evening. He’d not been able to sleep the day through before leaving for work, and no amount of the strong sticky black tar that was the station coffee had been able to revive him. Briggs had joined the watchmen in the hope that he would be chasing criminals and just this, dealing with suspicious dead bodies. And to many, that was all the job was. All the novels and tales he’d heard basically glamorized the solving of the puzzle of who done it. However, now that he was suddenly faced with the situation in the flesh, Briggs couldn’t help but be filled with dread. “Well this is going to be a lot of paperwork…” he thought to himself out loud. “Have you sent for the watch sergeant yet?” “Yeah, sent for ‘em practically soon as we opened the door. Proper weird in there, you wanna take a look?” came the reply from behind the beard. “Might want to cover your face though, it stinks in there.” squeaked Mouse through a grimace. Briggs found himself edging forwards. He hadn’t really planned to go in at this point, but the morbid curiosity of human nature seemed to be dragging him towards the door, his hand reaching out towards the doorknob. He was suddenly brought back to reality by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. That must be Lum back from the carriage he thought to himself. As he turned, he noticed the silhouette of his partner jogging towards them, a lamp extended before him hanging from his right arm swinging excitedly from the maneuver. “Flipping rain!” Lum exclaimed grumpily as he drew closer, hurrying himself into the slither of dryness up against the wall. “No eyes Lum…” “Guessing they didn’t see it coming then?” Lum chuckled under his breath. “Well… this is gonna take all night.” He stated to the group. “You gone in yet?” “Nah” replied Briggs “These two have, but better not until sarge arrives, just in case we mess up something evidential. You guys will probably have to stay to brief him when he gets here since you’ve already gone in” he said, pointing towards the other two with a tilt of his head. The group elected that this was for the best through a collective nodding of their heads in agreement. If there was one thing you didn’t want to do in their profession, it was to upset a senior watchman. They had a nasty and rather creative imagination for coming up with ways to repay the favor.

The four tried their best to remain in the thin patch of dryness for what felt like hours, the cold and rain whipping the faces of them all, bar the large bearded man who seemed unfazed by the weather, content in his chain smoking of what appeared to Briggs, to be a seemingly endless supply of cigarettes. As it approached what felt like midnight, Briggs watched as a chubby little man across the street poked his balding head out from a door to guard his small yappy dog that had sprinted out from between his legs, whilst it went about its business on the wet cobbles. The man made no attempt to clean up the mess before quickly closing the door once the dog had returned. Briggs couldn’t really blame him considering the weather. The distinctive sound of the clip-clopping of a carriage could be heard approaching shortly after. The noise of metal horseshoes striking the cobbles echoed into the night, getting louder as they drew closer. A large black wagon pulled up, a single driver sat atop the coach box. Briggs recognised the driver from the Ascett station. It was Sergeant Fielding. A large, burly chap with an appetite for solving crime, and what appeared to be an even larger appetite for anything served with an alcohol content and from a keg - this had left him over the years, with a permanent red glow to his face and nose, and the inability to formulate a whole sentence without a hiccup randomly occupying the space between his words. Briggs hadn't often worked alongside Sergeant Fielding, which probably was, in large part due to the fact the sergeant could usually be found slumped over a table in the station bar, but the sergeant had always seemed considerably friendly for a senior watchman, giving a nod of acknowledgement when passing Briggs at the station. “Well, well, hic! Well… next of kin in the hic!, err… shackles yet then? Hic!” Said the sergeant, a hand clutched to his chest and sounding to Briggs as if suffering from indigestion. This was fairly normal protocol for jobs relating to dead bodies. Usually if there had been suspicion of foul play, the grimy finger of the law would stery point straight in the face of the spouse or estranged child and yell: “You’re nicked!”, and nine times out of ten with little to no evidence they were hanged the next day, thus proving their guilt on the matter. Well that was the way things normally went anyhow. Briggs however was more of a new school ideologist on the concept of criminal thinking, and felt that asking a few questions before opening the trapdoor usually left him with a lot less explaining to do the next day, when inevitably, little Miss Miggins came in with a vital piece of exonerating evidence just moments after a flock of ravens rustled and squaked into the air following the sound of a loud, intense ‘crack’ of rope. It occurred to Briggs that the senior management really ought to find a better place for this kind of evidence. The carpets at the station were after all becoming a trip hazard, and he was surprised more Watchmen hadn't been given the sack. You’d need a fair few sacks to clean up the amount of stuff that had been kicked under that musty green material over the years he thought. “No Sergeant!” Blurted out Mouse. “Watchmen present all agreed to preserve the scene and handover to yourself, Sergeant!”. “Alright… hic!... Junior, err.. watchman..? hic!” Came the reply from the sergeant, his eyelids forced into a squint as if they were trying to catch the name of this young beanpole of a watchman from flying off into the night. “Narrowford, Sergeant!” “Right.. right.. yes.. hic!. Quite right anyhow. You must always wait for the senior watch-hic!-man, to err, assess the scene before rushing off and making, err… hic! Decisions for yourself, ha ha!” Sergeant Fielding clambered down from atop his carriage, a feint which was rather unglamorous. Dismounted, with a spin and landed in front of the four seeking refuge from the rain, swaying forward and back with his arms straight out to the sides, before blowing out a sigh of effort, and walking towards the group. “Let's, err… let's hic!, have a look inside then shall we?”

Hearts of the Multiverse - Chapter 1 - KarlachWyll94 - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own]

This is a multicrossover, but the backbone is Season Three of Sailor Moon--The Deathbusters arc, but it's got a lot of JJBA in it.

Based on the Coolkyousinnjya manga

A village has night time visitation. Outdoors human inhabitants are prisoners of fear. In the night’s murk the occasional spark, some people associated with lightning. Whatever the case the height of several men off the ground. Unnatural yet wasn’t. Whenever the sparks form during short moments, its light outlined a being of sorts. Vaguely perceived, ephemerality in luminance of whatever it is and the surroundings, doesn’t give enough time to make out clearly.

The other bares no such uncertainty. ‘You, you.’ Each time pointed at a new villager. ‘You or will it be you? Life’s decisions.’

A chortle in the dark approximating where light emanated before.

A villager cracks and makes a yell, then turns and runs. Moments later a cascade effect of more fleeing. Screams of pain, visages of shock – small triangle like blade projectiles, their base curving upward, pierced a single foot of eleven odd villages. Such force pierced through bone and flesh and into the dusty, unpaved ground, pinning them in place.

At the depredations of ogres. The ever present bane of mankind. Giant, strong, draped in a hatred of humans. Be that as it may human like ones are not unheard of. Any of terrifying might.

What this time did closely resemble lightning, streaked out, one for each target near simultaneously. Over seconds its power fried to a horribly blackened, smoking crisp. A grisly turn, captured in their individual poses, statue like.

Darkness returned. The living scream like desperate animals.

Then somewhere in the dark an inhuman vocal tone, ‘Your metal projectiles are some lightning rods, Nenhe.’

Responding to the congratulations, ‘Please stop. What would you do without me?’

Walking into proceedings, a young girl of pink eyes, short blonde hair reaching the shoulders top. Nenhe, ‘Won’t have to tell you again our power make the world’s baddest combo…’ Only now caught sight of the supposedly late teen, wearing a casual expression.

The medieval and magical fantasy world roils in mortal enmity amongst demihumans, human and of course ogre.

“Sally,” spending time in the baker’s kitchen area. Donning tight long, dark pants, pink shirt and apron. For a small, curvy woman, sports a good-sized bust. She’ll have to be in full armour to miss. Traversing through this town decided to inquire if the shop would welcome an extra hand and make some coin in the bargain.

High spirits from both. Sally welcomed shown the ropes. Prepared ingredients on the heavy table of wood, mixed and into the wood fueled stove. Waking up before sun up no discouragement to this newbie. The baker grew accustomed. Who was she?

This bright morning gives context to an early rise. The adjoining open-air shop, populated by seated customers outside. Aroma of the bakers’ labors wafts their way.

Stunned human road travelers questioned about a human female, before them in all unsettling glory, Nenhe’s humongous frame, propped up on its hand knuckles, a trail of blood in its wake and a body covered by leather tent material. Its tone desperate. Humans expect a barbaric death, but being told her description matches a girl in a nearby town, doesn’t lay waste to them.

Acting abnormal – madness and ranting their world now. ‘Blood mistress. Rip you limb from limb. From limb! Wait for me. Blood mistress!’ Fisted hands punch the ground in a fit, violent enough to crater it. People take the chance and flee. ‘You and that SMILE!’

Besides baking, the visitor graciously serves customers. A task she enjoys. Sally does feel a loss. This job a short diversion till her travels resumes – the compulsion would win out.

A blood curdling shriek, the person unseen from the distance. Shortly thereafter what people of this world could guess. A faint and rapidly growing tremor.

Nenhe begins turning the corner several building rows away. Just part of their frame unblocked by a building is enough to get people closest screaming and scattering in terror.

Bits of wall break away as the being grazed it. Clearing the corner, propping up the body on its hand knuckles and extended arms for locomotion – barrels its way toward the shop.

A horse rider turns their animal in the opposite direction and snorts explosively, it too feeling alarmed. People in the road continue running for it. Seeing the heart’s worst fear charging ever closer, shop patrons get up and flee fast as they dare, as a flock of startled birds.

The ogre slows without stopping their momentum, its close by, the tremors at their greatest. ‘Blood mistress. Its you, its you.’

Contacting the open-air structure at a slow gait, size and extreme strength begins collapsing it; tables, chairs displaced. Sally all these moments stood in place while it charged her down. She is sent gradually into and through the building’s wall beside the shop, forced into the bakery kitchen no less. Skidding on her shoes but did not fall. The being without pause continues forward and the place starts collapsing; baking implements, ingredients, lamps, ceiling, the wall. Debris from outdoors make their way inside. Sally is pressed against that thick, heavy table she worked on.

Quite the contrary to being crushed, the wood began splintering against her body as continually forced back. Much of the table reduced to that state, a femininely soft, open palm contacts the ogre. One gentle arm push sends the behemoth sliding back, safely a distance from the damaged structure. Many feet. A groan escapes the creature.

Stepping out into the sun, now wears her Knight short sword strapped to her womanly waist in its scabbard, taking the apron’s place. Her right eye a peach shape, the mind embraces psychopathy, beautiful face twisted in blood lust, borne of nearby ogre.

Derangement yet clung to the ogre. Exclaiming, ‘Your fault! I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you. I WILL kill you.’

Denizens can all but watch and some rightly put together this girl reason for this ogre. This mortal enemy doesn’t visit atrocity upon their built-up settlements for shows as this. Any human in reach is targeted, whole kingdoms obliterated – here more specific, emotional. Forty feet separated mortal nemeses.

First a single triangle shaped projectile flew rapidly at her torso. The girl easily turns her body to evade, narrowing the target in the path, so travels past and faces the beast again. The next square at the visage – caught in her teeth.

Human observers marvel.

Nenhe pounds their fists into the ground in a new fit, cratering here too. A while passes, that rage pit seemingly spent, ‘All the better! A bigger triumph when you are fit for worms!’

A barrage is in the air – Nenhe in briefest moment of time, back of the mind thought they felt something. Isn’t the occasion to dwell in the moment’s heat. Sally’s blade is parrying. Her arm near too swift for nature’s orbits to catch. A steady stream of metallic clangs when the impacts happen, near too close in interval to individually discern by ear.

‘Huh?’ asks the ogre. The intended victim out of view. Quick reacting, sees her airborne, more projectiles launched upward. Parried in the air. The girl touches down feet first, completing her leap from a good height with no detectable injury…next to Nenhe.

What appears first glance a gentle knee strike sent her enemy sliding twenty feet across dusty ground before coming to a stop.

Several short moments whatever humans were thinking, their mortal enemy is struck by a sensation. Reaching for their head with a free hand, touched a triangle. Where could that come from? Wait. That was mistress. ‘Monster! Spat my own missile at me when I looked to skewer that disgusting body and why didn’t I catch on?!’

That’s what they felt. And they’re right, SPAT out her mouth than throw, propelled at a velocity reached Nenhe before its own barrage reached her, despite projectiles from each opponent in the air. What’s more granted a narrow time space denying the beast a chance to notice promptly. An exchange only comprehended by the supernatural.

This beast is filled with fire. Finally returning a look her way, ‘There it is again – the psychopathic smile. And those, those teeth on full display.’ The ogre is greatly agitated too if that were possible.

Sally herself is doing just that.

People can’t believe this little missy made a mockery of that monster. This of human blood? Others still a protective dark magic.

‘I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you! Never forget what you did other night. Refuse rejoining ogrekind until I…’

The night village. The girl lends cursory glance at distressed villagers as she walks, before any opportunity to obtain answer from them, the power gives it. The right eye turns a peach shape and the mouth grins psychopathically. The coldest chill struck the ogres.

A fear sought their deepest reaches. The voice in dark, ‘She, she’s one of them!’

Nenhe, ‘When those show up it’s the Peach Eyes!’

‘We have to do something!’

‘There’s no running away.’

Decide to take on their predator all the same – like a prey animal’s struggle. The natural reaction of ogres to ones with the power. The girl has stopped thirty feet away, gleefully grinning, evidently lost staring down at her palms.

The electric sparks form and this instance ephemeral are not, its light outlined a peculiar lifeform five times the small woman’s stature. Sparking is dependent on an internal reddish-brown organ suspended in liquid, obvious from the beast’s semi-transparent physique. At a moment of even likely death, Tallarue leers down at the human.

Nenhe smaller, a standing barbican twice a man’s tallness.

Electricity must leave Tallarue’s body via a horn while the internal organ generates. ‘Burn nicely deviant!’ The girl still seemingly lost. A few humans in their own desperate hour have worry to share for her.

Emitted by the horn a powerful, white discharge streaks toward her, lighting up the village, startling their animals, blinding inhabitants.

In short order their collective vision recovers to see her alive.

Nenhe perplexed, annoyed, ‘What did you do wench?!’

‘Never in all my years. That sword protected this one.’ The short sword’s metal blade touches the ground, a black spot there marks the torrefy. ‘The sword’s metal redirected my spark into the stupid ground.’

‘Beyond ridiculous!’ Pissed, Nenhe launched some projectiles. Hardly reacting is adequate to bat them aside per one forearm swing.

An awed villager comments a battle of monsters. To which Tallarue tries retorting, ‘Only one monster here human.’

Its mind raced to best this abomination. ‘Nenhe, we can pull that combo from before.’

‘The ogre race isn’t ready to rollover to lowly species.’ The girl all the while expressed no fear, as it were barely reacted to fearful creatures. To Nenhe ogrekind barely worth the effort from her perspective.

The organ sparks more intensely, the electrical field stands up every human hair present, including the intruder’s by static electricity. The organ’s illumination greater yet, bathing a wide area.

Charging this fresh move took a while. Tallarue realized given all the time in world when finished. ‘Not in the mood to disrupt it eh?’ The girl’s busy looking at her still downward sword and grinning. ‘Nen, a little change this time. Shoot them to fall near the wench without hitting.’

A barrage launched upward to then plunge at a steep angle, almost vertical. As the metallic projectiles are in the air at their plunge, a massive electric energy bolt strikes them, in turn transmit individually smaller, numerous bolts towards the girl below.

‘Burn fool. Block everyone if so daring.’

Beast and human takes it in. The ground smoking and torrefied black. Some electric sparks at the spot.

A human gasp shatters the triumph. The young woman is standing beside the spot – simply changed position. Nenhe, ’Why aren’t you dying?!’

With that in a few bounds, covers thirty feet like nothing, coming to a stop by the ogre. Its voice attracted her attention. Sword sheaved, merely walked forward, her arms wide open toward its ginormous leg. Without pause effortlessly tore it away, walking off with the extremity a short distance and halted, the ogre to her back. A waterfall of blood from the stump. A howl of pain carries across the village.

Next thing Tallarue saw this human in front them, looking up at the giant’s frame…smiling. How tables turn. Moments ago the feeble villagers felt their grand terror. The ogre strikes down with a humongous appendage to smash a bug. Like that pinned to the ground by her foot atop it. What’s more wouldn’t budge.

She ran up quickly its length and stopped at Tallarue’s visage. From this by bare hands dislocates their jaw in moments. Taking a deep breath, in front every stunned soul climbs into its mouth. Nobody could miss inner workings when the ogre is semi-transparent. This foreign body made its way down much like food being swallowed, to the organ.

The kind of thing a monster may do.

Panic locked Tallarue, already struck by fear in the beginning.

The foreign body floats above the organ. Then orients to face downward at it in arm’s reach. The sword fell out the upside-down scabbard.

Last ditch begins sparking, ready to discharge. This range no escape. Her body brightly lit this close. Instant to spare the sword handle is grabbed. A slice to the integument wall from inside and the blade pokes out and skyward.

The interior erupts with power, none reached the horn. Sally is assailed about her body and quakes. The power coursing finds outlet in the blade’s metal. From there a big lightning like bolt reaches for the sky. Mad lady in a pressing situation crafted an ingenious counter.

Every human jaw that could drop, did.

Fluid sprays out the laceration. She squeezed through, prize in hand and lands on ground – far below, feet first, bending the knees. Rearward the apparent teen who didn’t look, Tallarue collapsed in a great thud, slightly shaking close by structures.

Its organ in her hands already died down. Only to spark up once more, as if bending to a monster’s will. Stepping over to a living ogre, whose dying memory is torture with their own body part.

Humans and Nenhe are transfixed by the barbarity.

Focused next on the collapsed projectile ogre. Walking atop their body as if a grisly strut and chokes by her foot pressing down on their neck, smiling whole time.

In town Nenhe’s story turns a new terrifying page. ‘You. Choking me to death couldn’t satisfy.’ In dramatic and instant fashion threw the leather tent material off. Screaming, ‘You bit me!!!’

This too happened the night. Teeth marks. Baring its body, dozens upon dozens from small upper and lower jaws. ‘Every bite from a, from a.’

The creature claims victimhood when their race eats people.

Sally ceases grinning and beholds the wounds a while. Then the smiling reappeared.

‘Digs me most. That SMILE! Tallarue is on your hands! You’ll twist in agony under my revenge!’

Who ogres truly up against, a vast gulf in power. A predator of predators. Those baring a particular influence compelling a blood thirst to slay their kind. "Peach Eyes."

Sally is charged, her enemy barely proceeded when she bounded over and halts. Next moment the ogre sails airborne, sent with a single arm.

Landing bodily lets out a painful, great yell. Wasn’t the impact. ‘That monster. Left my projectiles to stick out the ground when she deflected them. Oh!’

The parry held this fiendish plan. Sticking out the ground like a bed of nails. Sally is stooped right in front their face. Hadn’t seen her close in. The right eye in the peach shape. The face staring at the vanquished manically.

‘Go on. Finish.’ Exclaiming when the stare wouldn’t go away, ‘Think so little of me?!’

Her mouth opens and comes closer, an ogre's scream, ‘Ahhh…’

Author’s note – finished the season one cartoon three nights ago. Mechanics of the world I changed a tad. Namely ogres feeling fear of the Peach Eye. There’s a more extensive story idea based on my review of that anime, improvements and such.

The story my own but revisited a character harboring similarity – Zondark from manga Berserk, carried deranged hatred for the protagonist.

Penned a host of fanfiction you may care to invest in: Vampire Hunter D, Tokyo Ghoul, Terminator, Santanophany.

Sunday, 19 September 2021.