#Even his hair color is kind of a fucked up mutation when you think about it

[altocat]

Casually in awe of the fact that Sephiroth has not only achieved Main Protagonist™ Status through First Soldier, but that Square is featuring a main character in their lineup with LITERAL MONSTER-MAN SNAKE EYES.

We joke about Catboy nonsense but it's also weird af that Sephiroth is an actual lizard person with a huge body count and now he's basically their quirky relatable underdog Shonen anime guy.

[reallyprofoundkryptonite]

Why do you draw this particular character so often? This worries me a bit.

I saw your drawings of a "krogan" with albinism.

It's not very wise to repaint a character who has a "healthy" skin color and turn him into albinism or melanism. People with albinism are not a fetish that you can transform your characters into.

Would you feel good if you suffered from albinism and suddenly someone decided that for the sake of his "au" they would repaint their character/ oc so that they would also suffer from it?

This isn't hate, I just want to know your way of thinking. I felt a bit uncomfortable when next to "au's" like cyborg or mermaid I noticed "albinism au" as if it were some weird. creature or fictional species.

I just don't understand. Is this some kind of fetish or fantasy? A strange desire to become an albino? (even though you wouldn't want to be, believe me)

I repeat - it's just a question. No hate, please don't take it so strongly.

[The question is private, please do not share it publicly. But it's up to you - what you think]

/by the way - there are animals that cannot be albinos, such as horses

First of all. No. I’m not setting this to private. This is the SECOND ask i have gotten with similar perimeters in my inbox in the past day and, personally that is extremely fishy to me, considering the fact that this is coming from a blog that was made that is not following anyone, has no likes, and hasn’t posted anything which leads me to the conclusion that this is the original person who asked the question with that same exact asks’s alt account.

Now I might just be throwing out things into the water, however, I’d rather be safe than sorry. By the way, because I have already answered asks about why I like Krogan in the past. which you can find if you dig around my blog, I won’t be going into graphic detail because there’s already an ask that ANSWERS that question on my blog somewhere if you would go look for it.

But anyways.

1. I’m autistic. I have a hyperfixation on this specific character. I just like him and i cannot put it into words.

2. I am asexual. I do not have a “Fetish.” As you would put it. I am an asexual and I am actively sex repulsed. I do not need to offer you any more of an explanation as to why trying to say I have a fetish is gross.

3. It’s. An AU. An alternate universe. I like exploring other possibilities for canon. That’s… literally it. Nothing else to explain there. I don’t see albinos as “less than.” I do not see them as something that “doesn’t exist” or whatever. I am not stupid. Yes, there are animals that cannot be albinos however humans are inherently a species that carries this trait so I don’t know what you’re trying to point out there.

4. I should also point out that using the wording you did to state that while yes, albinism is an inherently dangerous condition that does have its risks with people, I have done more than enough research to understand that there are ways to keep their skin healthy. The fact that they are so extremely pale complected is due to a genetic mutation that causes a lack of pigment in the skin, eyes and hair. It can lead to skin cancer due to having no melanin however plenty of people with the condition live completely normal lives, so referring to the individual afflicted with albinism as being “unhealthy” is inherently ableist.

Also i myself am so pale i’m fucking translucent in some lights. I don’t have to “fantasize” about being pale.

5. Melanisim is an over abundance of pigment within the flesh. I haven’t done as much research on the topic and i won’t claim to be an expert in any way because I am not but still, referring to someone like this is inherently ableist regardless simply because they have a pigment mutation.

6. AUs are inherently just that. Alternate universes. It’s not saying that a real life condition that people have doesn’t exist. It’s an alternative version of canon. That’s it.

[bowloficecubes]

Siren, Pt.8.

< previous l masterlist l next>

note: I realize that this fic sucks balls, but it’s mostly self indulgent to me, just to write it, not to read it.

“Silver is his color, and gold is mine, so it made sense to switch them”

Bakugo is certain he recognizes the voice, but cannot pinpoint the owner.

His body feels oddly cool, an unusual thing for him considering his quirk makes him warmer than most. It's a comfortable temperature, ideal even. He hated overheating when sleeping(Which happens almost every night).

Oddly- he feels well rested, he doesn’t want to open his eyes yet, This is the best sleep he got in a long while. He could feel the warm brightness behind his eyelids, easily deducing that it was morning and probably time to wake up.

But the bliss of the comfort was too hard to leave, even with the yet-to-be-identified voice.

“Oh, I think he woke up, good morning Kats,” said a voice softly.

“How could you tell?”

“Heartbeat, it became faster. Did you know Bakugo has the fastest heartbeat in class? And the fastest I ever heard of a person our age. I assume it's due to his body temperature maintenance.”

Memories of last night’s events flood his vision, most notably:

1- The panic attack he had outside the operating room

2- How dizzy the blood loss made him

3- The comfort he felt at 3 am when they heard the faint gasp

And

4- his private conversation with Akito.

“I hope you slept well, you alright?” a soft voice brought him back to reality.

He reluctantly opens his eyes, knowing he’ll miss this luxury.

“Hello lil listener, How didya sleep?” asked a man with emerald eyes and impossibly golden hair that was messily tucked into a loose bun. He had his arms casually wrapped around his homeroom teacher’s neck, the latter seemed unfazed.

It took Katsuki a moment to connect the dots, what had he called him again?

Little listener ...

Wait 

“Mic sensei?”

“Ding ding '' he finger gunned him, a silver ring reflecting some of the sun rays into his photosensitive eyes (as he just woke up and his pupils were still dilated) causing him to squint.

He pushes himself up, propping his hands against the mattress, “Ouch, ouch”

He flinches and quickly removes his hands.

“Ah, it’s alright, didn’t mean to overreact”

Overreact? Overreact his ass, he just applied significant pressure to your bruised abdomen, after all.

“Oh shit, sorry ‘kito”

“Good timing, Bakugo, your parents will arrive in around an hour”

“HAH ?” He took a look at the clock on the wall, a few minutes till 12 pm.

“You called the old hag?”

“Dude, even I wasn’t this rude to my mom,” said Akito next to him in a half-whisper.

“We obviously called all of your guardians, Todorki’s sister drove him home and offered Jirou a ride to the dorms, and Shoji; I think he’s with Eri in the cafeteria,” said Aizawa sensei, voice absolutely exhausted.

“Well, we better leave them to freshen up. We’ll be down the hall if you need anything, ya dig?”.

The two nodded at their abnormally normal teacher, and the door slowly slipped shut.

“Um, I hope I didn’t bother you in your sleep?”

“Shut up, m’sorry for sleeping on you, especially when you’re injured. Must’ve dozed off a”

“It’s nothing! P-please don’t worry about it, I really needed the comfort” they whispered the last sentence.

The last part confused Katsuki, but he decided not to question it further.

“You sleep like the dead. Literally. Your body is very cold or the temperature of the room was off.”

Akito looked puzzled for a moment, then a look of realization washed over their face.

“Oh, I am cold-blooded, so that’s why, was it that cold?”

“HAAH?” this is genuinely pushing his mental capacities so early in the fucking morning.

Akito just shrugged, knowing how odd it might’ve sounded

“So you just have a different internal temperature?”

“Drastically different, while, if you want to compare me to a fish, fish kind of just become the temperature of their surroundings. Considering my mutation, it would be expected of me to have the same ability, but since I need very different conditions for all metabolic reactions, my body simply remains at a constant cold temperature. My enzymes are technically also mutated to function optimally at these conditions, although temperature is the most fundamental prerequisite of proper metabolisis. Isn’t it kinda awesome? I’m actually curious as to how your metabolic reactions differ since the average person’s enzymes would denature at your temperature. But I also wonder what components go into the production of your Nitroglycerin; my best guess is that your secretory glands kind of merge into your lymphatic nodes, and utilize your lymph and the salts from your sweat, perhaps?”

Bakugo was silent, mouth slightly ajar.

“Oh sorry, I was rambling, it's too early, too” “The nerd would cry happy tears if he heard you, you guys should hang out more.” “Midoriya-kun? Oh no, I doubt my guesses are of any use to his hero analysis.” “No trust me, you will make his day- school year. Although his are more from the hero fundamentals POV, and you’re more medical, Wait … I’m actually worried what would happen if your mixed analysis were to ever be leaked, especially if it was about, All might or something.”

“How the fuck do you know all that?”

“Know what? I asked questions, I didn’t state anything.”

“Those weren’t simple questions, those were very well-educated predictions, and quite accurate too. I don’t know too much about the enzymes and lymph and shit, but yes my temperature causes increased sweat production, which is the base of my nitroglycerin.”

He slipped out the bed as Akito kept murmuring about some scanning, X-rays, reverse lymph drainage? Whatever the fuck that was. He knew Akito was just thinking out loud, he’d seen Deki do it enough times to know it wouldn’t be rude to grab his bag and close the little bathroom’s door.

He quickly showered and brushed his teeth, conscious enough not to use the towels in the bathroom to keep it clean for the actual patient. He opted for an excessive amount of toilet paper to pat his body dry, and an extra shirt he packed to absorb as much water from his hair as possible, which wasn’t as effective as he’d liked. He got dressed in a black shirt with a small skull print and dark jeans.

He spared a glance to the mirror just to ensure his hair wasn’t too weird, but he got surprised at how different his face was.

His skin was almost the color of his hair, the slight red around his eyes and on his cheeks and nose absent, and his under eyes were accentuated.

He knew it was the result of the rapid blood loss, but it still creeped him.

After tidying up the bathroom, he cracked the door open, not enough to see out. “Can I come in?” he asked. Akito, after all, might be changing or something. He realized how slim the chances are that they can move on their legs already, but it was still wrong to just walk in, the last thing he’d want to do is make them uncomfortable.

Shoji, surprisingly, was the one to answer, “yeah, all good”.

Bakugo’s eyes fell on a food tray on the bedside table, alongside a little paper bag. “Good morning Bakugo, I hope you feel better?”. He just shrugged, returning a quick ‘mornin’ ‘. “Mezo got us breakfast. I wish they had more iron-rich food for you,” said Akito in the voice he was more used to, the calm, monotone voice.

“ I need to shower.”

Shoji’s eyes widened a little, “Hey I’m sure it’ll be ok to wait a bit, maybe tomorrow? At least your flesh would be a bit more … uh, dry?”

“Dude, I smell like a moist, musty salt-covered dog. Plus, I’m covered in dry blood.”

“ Couldn’t have said it better myself” murmured the other, Shoji stared at him angrily as Akito said, “see?”.

“There’s a little foldable plastic chair in the shower, it’s mounted in the wall” added the blond after a short silence.

“That’ll help I guess, but how do we keep the wounds dry?”

“Tie a garbage bag around my legs or something, I don’t care, I just need to shower before I lose it.”

He sighed, his mask moving a bit, “I wish Momo was here”

Shoji went on his hunt while Bakugo helped Akito brush their teeth by getting them a water cup to rinse and spit the toothpaste in. He considered lifting them to the bathroom and placing them on the chair Aizawa was sitting on, in front of the sink, but he didn't dare ask, he knew Akito would never allow anyone but Shoji to touch them that much. 

He placed the food tray on the bed after Akito scooted to the side a bit, making eating easier since obviously can’t place it on their lap. He then had a look at the bag Shoji got him.

A banana, muffin, and can of coffee from the vending machine.

He turned back to them, noticing their slightly downturned lips as they only picked up the sealed jello, ignoring the rest of the food.

“What's Wrong?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“I only like very few foods warm, and oatmeal is definitely not one of them. I actually dislike it regardless, the texture gets me” then they added “I like jello though. :) “

“I think Shoji packed some food, let me go check.”

He remembered there being some bags, and he remembered Shoji going through one of the common kitchen’s fridges before they left, placing some items in one of the plastic bags.

The first contained some various types of earplugs, a clear spray bottle with water that was just the tiniest bit foggy, and a black pouch.

He opened it, not realizing that this is definitely an intrusion of privacy, after all, this wasn’t packed with Siren’s toiletries, and it definitely didn’t belong to any of the others.

It was��� makeup? But not quite. He’d seen his mother’s vanity, he’d seen the MUAs backstage at his parents' fashion shows, and he’d seen Mina’s in her room a couple of times, usually placed around her tall mirror.

There wasn’t a brand name in sight, mostly loose pigments in tiny jars, a slim, opaque bottle filled with a dense fluid, and the only familiar items; loose powder in a cylindrical container and a few sponges and a puff.

But there had also been a paint spatula and a metal tray…

He soon realized he definitely shouldn’t have opened it, he closed quickly and snuck a quick glance at Siren, who was thankfully unaware of what just happened. He looked through the other bag.

“There’s uh... What the fuck? Mints, gum? Oh hey, this looks like fresh juice!” He opened an unlabeled glass bottle and smelled it, expecting to smell pineapple or something. 

“WHAT THE FUCK! IS THIS POISON?!”

“Oh wonderful, he got me my drink!” it’s almost as if they completely didn’t hear Katsuki.

Bakugo looked both angry and dumbfounded at the casual voice.

“You should take a sip, it’s really good”

He hesitated, “ is this like, alcohol or something?”

“No… kats why would Mezo get me alcohol to the hospital??”

“Aha, so you DO drink?”

“No comment.”

“Bitch what”

Akito simply shrugs “now is not the time, see if you can find some digestive biscuits, I need a bit more in my system before I can drink it, also are you tasting it or not?”

“I guess I will” he muttered, glancing worriedly at the yellow juice, still, he trusts them. 

He lightly touched the rim of the bottle to his lips, visibly hesitant, then he closed his eyes and took a gulp.

His adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed quickly and finally opened his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me it wasn’t sweetened?” he calmly, uncharacteristically asked, calm before the storm.

“Why would it be? It’s not a sweet drink.”

“No, I’m actually worried right now, how do you drink this? Or even ‘like’ it?”

“I guess your first few tries will be odd, but it gets good, and it’s also insanely good for your health!”

“What even is this? It’s burning me” then his eyes widened “IT IS FUCKING ALCOHOL! HE BROUGHT ALCOHOL!!”

“ No no trust me” they waved their arms in front of them, trying to reassure the boy. “Ginger naturally stings”

“How do you even make this, anyway?”

“I boil ginger and lemon. A shitton. Then I blend it and when it cools down, I strain it.”

“ So it's just… ginger and lemon? You never thought of even adding honey?”

“I don’t like how people only like sweet drinks. Drinks don’t necessarily have to always be sweet, food has different tastes,

Also, alcohol doesn’t burn like that, it's way more intense and burns your throat and esophagus”

“So you DO drink”

“Hey, it’s rude to point! And yeah whatever maybe”

“ …. How often?” “dude, can you please find the fucking biscuits?”

He quickly rummaged through till he found the box, “digestive light, 30% less fat” he slowly turned to face them, eyes filled with rage.

“Is all you eat fucking depressing? What the fuck is this? I thought you’d have the chocolate-covered ones” As he was swinging the box in frustration, two arms slid the room’s door open.

Shoji stepped in, plastic laundry bags, a roll of tape, and a pair of scissors in his other arm’s hands. His eyes slightly widened at the sight of Bakugo holding the biscuits, almost threateningly, and Akito’s lightly irritated face.

“Thank fuck, tell me, do they always eat such shit?” the masked boy relaxed and approached Siren, he realized he’d been worried over nothing.

“Got you some scissors, thought it’d be more practical to cut the hospital gown off rather than take it off. There are new ones under the sink but I’ll open one and hang it by the shower door unless you’d prefer to wear your normal clothes? I got you the black skirt and some zip-ups and button-ups, U know it’s not ideal but we can’t risk further agitating your wounds. After you’re done showering I guess you could wet the rag and wipe your legs? You be the judge of what to do. But just make sure that the water is turned off. If you need me at any moment I’ll be right here; although I’d rather not see you butt naked. Obviously don’t lock the door, no one will come in anyway,”

That was surely a mouthful, but he was practical.

“Yes, mom,” replied Akito with a sarcastic undertone.

“I hope you slip and break your hip in the shower” “I love you too, sugar booger” “Kill yourself” “Yes sir!”

Akito slid their legs down, sitting on the edge of the bed. They slid their gown up, revealing a gruesome sight that extended across both of their thighs.

Bakugo was surprised at how collected Shoji looked, he, personally, felt tears pricking his eyes at the sight. Shoji immediately got to work, excessively delicate when taping the edges to ensure absolutely no water gets in. Akito maintained an unfazed demeanor, although some eyebrow twitches managed to escape.

Bakugo went into the bathroom and pulled the chair down to prepare it. He hung a towel on the other knob of the shower door; an easy-each place even when sitting down. He brought the scissors and hung them on the loofa’s hook. He quickly asked Shoji about where he placed toiletries and received indirect permission to go through the mini suitcase to retrieve the products and set them up in the shower.

He thought about opening the shower to give the water a chance to warm up, but his earlier conversation with the Siren made him highly doubt he could guess what temperature they liked their shower to be.

He returned to the room, Shoji checking to ensure he secured the tape well.

“Are you going to wear the gown or normal clothes?” he asked, he hated the thought of sitting down while Shoji was busy being actually useful.

“I guess I’ll wear the outfit, could you set it up for me, please? It’s a long black skirt and see if he packed the light blue button-up shirt”

He nodded and quickly found the items since he had spotted them earlier while looking for the shower supplies. He folded the clothes and neatly placed them on the closed toilet seat.

During the wait for them to get ready, he couldn’t help but think about the skirt situation, well, more like Siren’s identity and preferences… Not that he cared of course!!! But since they're officially friends now, it’d be rude not to know, wouldn’t it? Like he obviously wouldn’t pressure them into telling him but imagine if they thought he knew all this time and then he realizes how horrible of a friend he has been and-

“Do you want to hang onto me? Or should I lift you up?”

“Uppies! I don’t trust my arms too much, a little numb”

Bakugo snapped out of his trance and couldn't help but let out a little laugh, it wasn’t mocking, just because of how adorable the tone had been.

Shoji rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the fond look in them.

He slowly lifted them from under their arms with utmost ease, more like a doll rather than a grown-ass person.

Soon, he closed the door after himself. They both heard the shower turning on soon enough.

Shoji let out a breath and quickly got to work; stripping the sheets and replacing them with crisp white ones he found in the cupboard, he opened the windows to let some fresh air in and even burned some weird stick he pulled out of his bag. “Incense” he explained, although Bakugo had only seen it in funerals; apparently certain types were great for cleansing rooms of foul energies. Bakugo wasn’t too sure he understood, but the smell of burnt basil did soothe him, maybe he’d ask Shoji where he can get some for himself, this would definitely help his sleepless nights.

As he was tidying up the room, he looked at the barely touched food and sighed in concern, turning around to finally answer the question Bakugo had asked earlier.

“I do realize how absurd their eating habits are,  but don’t worry, I always made sure they eat well, like balanced food groups and stuff. ‘Kito prefers to drink rather than eat, but their drinks aren't necessarily sweet; actually, you should try some of their comfort drinks, they’re usually spicy and iced”

“And could this ‘comforting drink’, by any chance, be alcohol?” he asked, suggestively.

Shoji immediately stiffened, covering his face with his hands, “ Uh, yeah about that, we both had guilty, not-so-legal pleasures, but again, I ensure that they’re responsible with them, and vice versa”

“So they have more? What else? ' he asked worriedly.

“DUDE DON’T TELL HIM, HE ALMOST KEBABED ME AT THE FIRST ONE” came a voice from the shower.

Right. Sirens have insane hearing.

“Alright, if not them then what about you?”

“What about me?” Shoji was obviously trying to avoid the question.

“ YOU SAID ‘VICE VERSA’, ELABORATE”

“OH! Um, it’s not drinking, so don’t worry, I only have a drink once in a while” he shot him a shaky thumbs-up.

“Ok but that doesn’t answer the question”

“TELL HIM YOU SECRET-BUSTING WHORE!”

“YOU TOLD HIM YOURSELF, I DIDN’T RAT SHIT OUT” he screamed back.

“Actually, I guessed. So? What’s your answer?”

His face was now weird, shy? “Um… motorcycle racing?”

“ILLEGAL car racing. He’s unlicensed and he drove a modded bike”

“SHUT UP” “SUCK MY COCK, IT’S TRUE”

“You're insufferable”

“Love you too <3”

Meanwhile, Bakugo was still processing the information.

“Weren’t you like... Um,” he didn’t know how to verbalize his confusion.

“Poor? Dirt poor, it obviously wasn’t my bike. I worked at an auto shop when Siren was out diving, and the owner, he used to race cars, allowed me his 'little bike' as long as I take care of it and ‘uphold its legacy’” he air quoted the last part.

“Can you show me?” Katsuki was curious, rightfully so, he only saw car races in movies, and the few F1 races, but never bikes.

“OH, I DO! Mei show him my phone!!”

He cringed, then asked, “Where is it?” “It’s in my costume case, probably dead, I barely touched it during the mission.”

He moved reluctantly, opening the scratched metal case to retrieve the phone.

“2%, where’s your charger?”

“Dunno, probably in my chamber, I left most of my shit there”

He moved to his own bag, pulling out a wire and plugging it in.

A few seconds later, Shoji opened the phone, in a suspiciously swift movement, it took less than a second, did it not have a password? “What’s wrong?” Oh, Shoji noticed the double take Katsuki did. “You unlocked it with your fingerprint?” “Yeah, faster than a password, we both have our fingerprints on each other's phones’”

* They really really trust each other * he thought.

“Where’s the one against Koko?” he asked Siren while scrolling through their gallery.

“But that one isn’t as funnnnn, show him the one against Alegria!! It’s in my favorites, please”

He groaned, he didn’t hate that one, in fact, it was one of his best races, but didn’t want to seem like a show-off to Bakugo.

“Hey I’m done, help me?”

He stood up and handed Katsuki the phone, the video already opened. He headed towards the door.

[smolfailure]

FUCK IT, DREAM SMP HOMESTUCK AU

but it's only half shitposts and there are actual Thoughts in there.

You don't need to have read the comic to understand because I tried not to spoil anything major, but it'd help if you knew basic stuff about classpects, SBURB and the hemospectrum.

disclaimer: i'm not a good pixel artist and this is my first actual sprites ever so please be kind to my weird pixels

The Kids:

Tommy

Fundy

Techno

Tubbo

tommy, tubbo and fundy one of the kids because they're the kids in dream smp canon (with fundy being son of wilbur)

techno's there because i want to make a dave strider reference (haha get it because techno's name is also da-- *gets shot) and also because they are both coolguys except instead of using irony, techno has adhd

The Trolls:

Wilbur Soohte (fuschia)

?????? Ehrret (violet)

J????? Shlatt (purple)

Nihacu Niikki (indigo)

Skeppy Diamon (cerulean)

Quacki Tthiey (teal)

Philza Myncra (jade)

Dreame Wastkn (lime disguising as olive)

George Notfou (gold)

Sapphe Nahfpe (bronze)

Badboy Haelow (burgundy)

don't come at me saying only females are allowed to be jades and fuschias; gender is fake and this is an au

more of the AU and the talksprites are under the cut:

Tommy

Lunar sway: Derse. Types in: Red

chaotic. the first person to be introduced.

when he gets introduced instead of the “Zoosmell Pooplord” bit, Tommy is initially going to be the name inputted but then backspaced it and decided that Tommyinnit was better and he was fuming until he’s named Tommy.

Gives me big Blood/Hope vibes. Blood because a lot of the conflict of the dream smp connected to someone breaking his trust or harming the things he cares about, Hope because a lot of the plot of the dream smp stems from Tommy starting shit based on his ideals and what he thinks is right.

the first to instigate fighting against the trolls

bbh contacts him once and tommy keeps cursing until he disconnects from frustration rip

wields Gunkind and his only strife weapon at the beginning is the Vlog gun. He has Gunkind as his strife specibus mainly because he looked up at schlatt and he imitates him.

Fundy

Lunar sway: Prospit. Types in: Orange

it was his idea to play SBURB but only through Dream.

he talks to dream the most among the other trolls fwt stans getcha juice this is the rosemary of the session

dream’s the one giving him exposition about the game so that’s how he knows how to play SBURB.

wilbur trolls fundy once and instantly adopts him.

“You’re my son.” “How does that even work??” “I was one of the people who created your universe. It’s basically the same thing.”

Fundy relents anyway.

Techno

Lunar sway: Derse. Types in: Pink

dave strider but dead-inside voice + rose lalonde english major vibes

he slices the text box when you try to name him "Dave " like in

techno gives me time player vibes (contantly on the move. his skyblock series, his “stays in the pit” monologue,) but also rage vibes (anarchy,  the “theseus” monologue, political alignment is Chaos) alas i am not sure what class

uses Tridentkind and claims "it came from god"

 it was dream, he accidentally transportalized one of wilbur’s weapon while he testing the transportalizer.

Tubbo

Lunar sway: Prospit. Types in: Green

the jade harley of this session. the only thing keeping them from going apeshit. where would they be without him.

but also jade harley in a sense that he seems nice and wholesome but also don’t fuck with them they can mess you up

Heart/Life vibes??? someone good at classpecting help

i put them in prospit bc of the "tubbo third eye" instead of tubbo having a sixth sense or smth, they see the future from the clouds of skaia when they sleep

wields Stress-relieverKind at some point

bonus: everyone’s actual hair colors

Ideas about the Trolls

no i haven’t done their sprites yet bc it would take so much time and i’m not even sure if people wanna see more of this au skjdkdsakdfkl,, but i have Design Ideas.

events of the dsmp revolution are just a FLARP session drawing parallels to how the homestuck trolls had a FLARP session that spoiler alert: destroyed friendships. dtrio, eret, will are involved. eret betrays will's faction and wilbur's still Bitter over that.

on the context of alternia (highbloods and lowbloods) lmanburg and dreamsmp have their roles SWAPPED.  the emancipation theme thing is completely gone since highbloods are in more power than the lowbloods (the dream team) . 

wilbur made a faction called l’manburg because he wants a place where he and his fellow highbloods could make drugs vibe.they take a piece of land that was owned by the dream team. in normal circumstances, they shouldve stood down because lowbloods aren't supposed to start shit with highbloods (especially a group of highbloods that has the alternian heir among them)  but dream turned it into an activism thing about lowblood rights. the story plays as close as possible without tommy or tubbo in it (which is pretty hard ik but this is the best can do).

like in the dreamsmp revolution, dream kinda let wilbur do what he wants but this time he has more reason to because he’s in a lower caste. dream really only fought back when wilbur announced that he’d be building lmanburg on their land and calling it theirs.

eret betrays wilbur by supporting the lowbloods and wilbur and co. technically won but only because he finally called the drones in, as a reference to how lmanburg absolutely got crushed by the dream team in the smp but technically won. l’manburg keeps the piece of land and the dream team scatter away to find a new home.

wilbur soot's a fuschia because a) he's in a position that has a lot of power, b) yknow how he wrote a song about squids and his thing with sally… yeah.

eret's a violet because nobility!! dream looks down on him because he's ambivalent on fighting for lowblood rights when he's in a power to do so "you just sit there, and you look pretty that's it"

also like eridan he has a minor aesthetic mutation (herobrine eyes) that won't classify him as a mutant.

jschlatt is purple because it makes sense thematically because of the gamzee parallels (a. substance abuse b. if you know what happens in act 6, you know this already but spoiler alert, he ruins the main protagonists' lives) also he's a funnyman he deserves the clown caste

 quackity's a teal because he’s a law student. moving on--

 ok but for real it also makes sense thematically because he's the one who wrote the thing that tricked schlatt into agreeing also he gets manipulated by schlatt which also draws parallels to certain events in the comic

skeppy and bbh are BEST FRIENDS despite being highblood and lowblood respectively. initially, skeppy just wanted to bother bbh but they grew to be good friends in time. y’know like how they actually becane friends :D

philza minecraft is a jade because dad friend. also works thematically, because spoiler alert he gets to murder a seadweller for going batshit crazy. 

he also god tiers early. he dies fighting his quick undead denizen (haha baby zombie) but the consorts of his land carry him to his quest bed because he’s treated them all so well.

dream was initially going to be another caste but then i realized that means i have to make his hoodie something other than green which is unacceptable so its a good thing the fact that he's a lime works out

dream was the one who thought of playing sgrub in the first place- initially only planned to have gogy, sap, and bbh in the session but then realized that they four won't be enough so he invited more into his session

he’s also the first to go godtier ez clap blind speedrun not sure what classpect tho

the only reason why dream avoided being culled at birth for being a limeblood is because his rng is That Good. he quickly picked up the fact that he’s not supposed to exist and masqueraded as an oliveblood and kept mostly to himself to avoid suspicion.

george is still colorblind but he has lazer eyes along with it instead. dream lives with him in the same hive since being a mutant means dream doesn’t get a lusus of his own (dnf fans getcha juice “and they were roommates”) 

despite living in the same hive, he never really figures out that dream is a limeblood. possibly because a) he’s colorblind and when he sees dream bleeding he just sees yellow b) he’s just that fucking oblivious and it’s so valid of him.

sapnap’s a bronzeblood mainly because i know he’s the instigator of the pet war with tommy also because i associate him with the color orang in my mind so bronze it is

that’s the end of this long-ass post!! if you have other ideas PLEASE i want to hear them. i don’t know the other streamers i mentioned in here very well so if you have ideas that would be fitting to them like with classpect or lunar sway that would be GREAT. 

the only thing i’m confident about in here are the kids’ lunar sways. i’m not an expert in classpects and homestuck lore so there’s that too!! i just wanted to make this post because adhd means that the idea wouldn’t shut up until i finished it. This initially started as a single shitpost edit of tommyinnit talksprite but then the hiveswap 2 trailer came out and that means i have to combine my two hyperfixations.

also i have ideas about potential quadrants but idk how much of that is breaking some streamers’ boundaries about shipping (even the non romantic quads such as kismesistude, morallegiance and auspisticism) so i decided not to include it.

edit: apparently people want more so i made a discord server as a place to brainstorm!! please pm me to join!

[bamfdaddio]

X-Men Unabridged: 109 (1978)

The X-Men, those plant-loving mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. We’ve been untangling that history for a while, but sometimes, you really want a more in-depth look. Interested? Then read the (un)Abridged X-Men!

(X-Men 109) - by Chris Claremont and John Byrne

Ororo not noticing Moira casually drowning Banshee or Wolverine being punted around by some poutine-roided idiot because she’s too busy eating the Piotr-shaped eye candy is such a mood.

I wonder what my ethnic curse would be. Perhaps: ‘By Mata Hari’s bedazled bikini!’

Plot-wise, issue 109 is not that dense. Half the issue deals with the X-Men coming home from their space-adventures, the other half has Wolverine dealing with the Canadian government coming to claim their lost asset. I mean, Claremont uses three pages to tie up some loose Shi’ar ends through flashback because the last issue couldn’t fit it all in. It’s by its very definition a breather issue.

Doesn’t mean it’s not awesome.

WHERE TO START?! Why not with plant mommy Ororo?

Storm’s secondary mutation has to be that her hair always looks like a fabulous follicular cascade, even during an indoor spring shower.

Look, if I had weather powers, I’d probably be using it for mundane shit like watering my plants and ensuring nice weather at my friend’s weddings too. (Okay, maybe sometimes I’d zap dudes who tell random girls in bars to smile more.)

While Storm talks to plants and takes all her clothes off, Kurt does the other thing I do after a rough day at the office: he calls someone for some nookie.

I love that Amanda is so extra that she gives out signed photos of herself.

Kurt just looks so fucking cute here. Look at those little fangs! Yeah, Amanda, get it.

Like a lot of people to whom communication comes as easily as breathing, Piotr is defeated when faced with a blank letter. Look at that trash can: he’s tried this waaaaay too many times.

Anyway, I think “Sorry I haven’t been writing, was busy saving the universe. Weather’s lovely” has a nice ring to it.

Star Wars had been out for around half a year when this comic was published, and it’s safe to say Claremont was a huge fan. You can tell by the direction these comics are taken: the whole Shi’Ar space opera is obliquely inspired by Star Wars and Star Trek and their aesthetics. I mean, Corsair asks to be beamed up and there’s even references to a captain “Spo’ock”.

It was the end of the 70s. Everybody wanted to be a Skywalker: space was big, y’all. Nightcrawler loving the movies is not a coincidence - I wonder if Claremont was also a fan of Errol Flynn.

Anyway, we follow Kurt one more floor down, where he spooks Scott, brooding at the window. The result is an unintentionally hilarious interaction, where Scott and Kurt discuss Real Issues Like Men while Jean comes out to her parents outside.

“Mom and dad, I’m… the Phoenix.”

“Honey, we figured you might be when you introduced us to Misty Kn… Wait, what?”

To be fair, being possessed by a cosmic force for rebirth is almost the same as being gay: it imbues you with fabulous new insights, you start experimenting with your wardrobe and ever so often, you want to burn down the galaxy because some bitches in a gay club have slighted you.

But all that will come later.

Anyway, Jean’s kinda silly coming out leads to a pretty honest heart-to-heart between Nightcrawler and Cyclops. Scott tries to give Kurt grief because of his happy-go-lucky attitude, and Kurt gives him a deserved put-down.

Life can be unkind, Scotty, so embrace the kindness provided to you by a wise little devil.

Scott prefers to brood and Kurt is hanging with Amanda, so it’s a foursome - maybe even a double date? Moira and Sean, Piotr and Ororo. Logan asks for a ride - not because he wants to eat cheese and crackers among ants, no, he wants to blow off steam.

The X-Men’s chicken or egg: did Logan’s sideburns decide the shape of his headpiece, or did the headpiece shape his haircut?

I started reading the X-Men just when the Marvel Universe was starting to reach the height of Wolverine saturation: he was simply everywhere. Like, at some point, he was in X-Force and the Avengers while also being a Headmaster of the Jean Grey school. Add to that him being the face of the Fox X-Men universe… Listen, it was easy to get sick of him. I kind of did.

But this? Original flavor Wolverine, who’s still kinda short, kinda ugly and kinda stuck being a loner? He works as a character. Chris Claremont is beginning to explore his duality: the wild animal who has been experimented on vs. the honorable man who would do anything for his found family. He gives me major Granny Weatherwax vibes: he’s the kind of person who doesn’t need people, but he does need people to know that he doesn’t need people.

So yeah, he's still cool.

Also, his healing factor hasn’t been kicked to superhuman levels yet - you know, being able to regenerate from a single cell or whatever - so he actually feels kind of anxious when he’s about to toss himself off cliffs etc.

Not happy about that red belt, though.

Anyway, Wolverine is out doing the noble hunting-without-killing-thing, and then this motherfucker wrapped in a flag shows up. Look, I know I have something against dudes who brandish their nationality as their superhero identity, but this fool is just… ugh.

James MacDonald = the worst. Trust me on this.

Major MacMapleleaf then punts Wolverine across the forest, right into the other X-Men’s picnic, and now we’re all caught up.

Out of all the X-Men in this issue, Sean gets the least amount of screen time but, hey, at least I can steal a joke from him.

Don’t worry, despite the martyr/pièta pose, Moira will turn out just fine!

You weren’t worried?

Anyone?

Look, is there anyone who genuinely likes Moira as a character?

James Hudson, being the worst, doesn’t give a fuck that he just cross-fired an innocent woman - er, innocent as far as he knows, at least - and just nopes out of there, too outnumbered to fight the X-Men.

Yeah, you better run.

He vows to return with Alpha Flight, which… Eh, he’ll at least bring some more interesting characters with him. (Snowbird!) Now that he has sown enough seeds for a future plot to pick up on, Claremont calls it a day. I will also call it a day, after a little fashion watch. Out of all of these character, who has chosen the worst outfit?

Scott. It’s Scott. Look, I get that those ruby quartz glasses make the world a different color for you, but you’re wearing a mustard suit and a bespeckled yellow shirt underneath. Even when considering Moira’s attitude, it’s still the most stank thing in the doorway.

Sean, just what do you see in her?

[h2bakugou]

deadpool’s quirk p.2 | headcanon

a/n: i wrote a request to this idea and i’ve been thinking about deadpool lately so once again i am putting aside requests dskjfhdj im so sorry dfjk it’s the mask fetish-

headcanon: them with a s/o who has a quirk like deadpool’s

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / intense regeneration/borderline immortality - your quirk

warnings: fluff, swearing, gore/blood

»»————-　★　————-««

tomura shigaraki

»»————-　★　————-««

When you show up to the league, he has no idea what your quirk is, he’s never heard of you. He’s quick to think you’ve got some genetically drowned out mutation quirk that’s nowhere near powerful enough to make it in the league.

But you start to test his patience.

“I can’t really show it off, it’s hard to explain.” You stand a few feet away from them in the abandoned building. The rest of the league looks interested, you’ve sure got a fierceness about you standing up to Shigaraki like you are.

“You won’t regret this.” You cross your arms over your chest.

“Why the hell would I let you in, I don’t have a fucking clue what you can do. You’re useless to us.” Shigaraki hisses. It’s the final straw. Things were about to get messy.

You reach for the gun attached to your hip and pull it up and cock it, and the members of the league are quick to come at you.

Lifting the gun in the air, you pull the trigger and fire up into the sky, a few of the blonde girl’s knives sticking into your side.

“That all you got, blondie?” You smirk and look at her, watching as her own sadistic smile fades away.

You push her away and pull the knife out of her hand. It’s quick and messy, blood dripping from some cuts on your hand.

In one somewhat difficult move, you’re slicing your own hand off. The other members stare in horror as they watch it fall limp to the ground.

“I hate this part.” You mumble, tossing the knife to the side.

You lift your now amputated arm up and show the powder-blue haired man just what your quirk entails.

“This blood could’ve been resolved if you would’ve just used your quirk instead.” You groan, watching as the flesh around your severed hand began to grow back.

Shigaraki is silent. He’s completely mesmerized by your quirk. You’re strong, you’ve got attitude, and now he knows you can regenerate lost limbs. You can withstand stab wounds like it’s nothing.

“Are you immortal?” A man wearing a top hat asks. You laugh and shake your head.

“About as damn close to it as you can get.” You reply.

“You changed your mind yet Handman?” You’d already given the leader a somewhat boring nickname.

“Don’t call me that. You’ll refer to your leader as Shigaraki and noting less.” His red eyes glare at you.

“You made a good choice.” You smile and pick up your gun, setting it back in it’s holster on your hip.

From there on out, you’re at Shigaraki’s side constantly. You’re more or less the unofficial right hand man.

Overtime you start to develop feelings for the man child. It’s hard to come to terms with though, you’re both busy, and he clearly shows no signs of even displaying normal emotions. 

All it takes is one mission gone wrong to tell him how you feel.

Everyone is injured, severely. You’re the only one that’s going to even be remotely okay within the next few days. It makes you feel guilty.

It’s one of the reasons why you never get close to people. You can withstand what most people can’t. It’s unfair. You get out a-okay while everyone else returns in shambles, barely even holding on.

As they continue to get hurt, you barely know pain. That’s your own torture, watching as those around you take hits while you sit back perfectly fine.

Seeing everyone in the league hurt, hurts. You do your best to try and help, but you find yourself sulking alone after.

Shigaraki is the one to find you outside by yourself, the cool air nipping at your exposed skin through the rips and tears of your outfit from where you’d been shot at or swung at with a knife.

“Why are you out here moping?” Shigaraki’s tone isn’t soft or kind. It makes your heart break a little.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve just never stepped into that building.” You apologized. Shigaraki was confused. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” He replies, taking a seat beside you, the large hand that usually rested on his face, nowhere in sight.

“I can go anywhere, do anything, and make it out alive. You can’t.” You turn to face him, your eyes red and puffy with tears,

“It’s fucking torture. I don’t want to lose you, or anyone in the league. I-I care too much about you.” You hang your head and ball your hands into fists.

“Part of me wishes we’d never met, while another part wants to spend the rest of my life with you, you’re the best things that’s ever happened to me. You gave me a home, a family of friends, and feeling of being alive and having something to fight for.” You confessed. Shigaraki was taking it all in, his cracked dry lips parting in disbelief.

“I can’t stand to watch you go out and get yourself killed.” You let a few more tears fall. Shigaraki’s hands diligently shoot up and place themselves on your shoulders, a finger lifted on each hand.

“Shut up.” He remarks, shaking you lightly. You lift your head and examine his face.

His lips collide with yours, it’s rough but tender. You never expected him to kiss you first. You were almost certain he hated you.

But you kissed back, closing your eyes and melting into the kiss, you let his hands fall from your shoulders to your own hands, holding them carefully.

He pulled away and his expression returned to normal.

“You’re important to the league, and everyone here needs you. We’ll try to be more careful. But just because you’re strong doesn’t mean you should go all crazy.” Shigaraki scolded you. You let out a small laugh and threw your arms around him.

He’d never hugged anyone, or at least he couldn’t remember hugging anyone. It was a nice feeling.

He quite like your arms around him, he liked the feeling of your lips on his, he enjoyed the taste of them too. Maybe being around you wasn’t as bad as he thought.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

[daisies-write]

that Illumi Flower short GUTTED me... thank u so much! 😭 can you do more illumi angst where he finds out hisoka cheated on him, illumi's rethinking his life and himself, and then he meets reader s/o who turns his life around?? sorry if that's too angsty you can ignore if you want <3

Ooooooooooooh!!! I personally am from the people who only see Hisoka-Illumi’s relationship as practical and not romantic so honestly it was fun writing all this in another point of view!! Also idk about this one piece honestly, everthing feels so OOC T-T I did my best. I hope you’ll like it nonetheless<3

-Yasu

Craziest

Requested by: anon

TW: mention of cheating but other than that just really OOC characters, i’m very sorry idk how to write qfstrydjukfytjdhrstgeqfz-

Writer: Yasu

Word count: 1923

    To be completely honest, that was to be expected. This whole situation, this relationship, from its inception to its inevitable end, was incredibly toxic. A marriage only for the benefits of the death of the other and the benefits of death only, so where had he screwed up? When had he gotten so attached to this eccentric magician that it hurt - something he didn’t think he could feel for years now - upon learning he had fucked someone again?

    It wasn't new anyway. Hisoka had never deprived himself of the pleasure of a drunken night out and it's not like he owed anything to anyone. This marriage was really just an arrangement and Illumi had always known it but things had changed, on his side at least. His feelings had somehow mutated very slowly, imperceptibly over the years spent with Hisoka. He wouldn’t say it was love, he didn’t know what it was anyway. Assassins don't need friends, let alone lovers, that was what he kept saying to himself that night.

    The sky had darkened very quickly and Illumi had hung up on Hisoka who spend a good ten minutes to describe his latest follies with his new one night stand. The dark haired man didn't have the strength to hear his voice anymore and as strange as it sounded, Illumi was feeling exhausted. The streetlights were starting to illuminate the city and in the few minutes that seemed to last for hours, night had fallen and the nightlife of the big cities began.

    The tall buildings, boulevards and shops had come alive, as they do every year during the approaching winter festivals; people wrapped in their warm clothes and sheltered under their umbrellas crowded happily. Some laughed with friends, some with family, some held hands in a small but beautiful show of love. and this whole, peaceful universe contrasted so much with Illumi’s in a nostalgic painting.

    He walked along a street whose name he had forgotten, in a place he did not know, lost in his world which seemed even colder than the rain that pounded over his body. He had no emotions on his face, as always, but he thought. He had thought so much that he had come to question his existence, his being. “Who am I, what am I, where am I going? “

    He strolled gracefully between people who never seemed to notice him; he was a shadow, a tiny piece of darkness that roamed against the walls as he walked tirelessly hoping to find a goal, some hint of nonchalance but in vain. The cold was burning his skin but it was nothing as his physical capacities were out of the ordinary, inhuman. So he didn't understand why you had stopped in the middle of your path, eyes wide open, worried. So genuinely worried about him.

“Sir, do you feel okay?” had you asked softly, while holding tight your umbrella.

    Illumi saw no point in answering and didn't give you one more thought. He resumed his walk, thinking you would do the same. But where his physical abilities were incredible, your empathy and kindness were even more so, out of the ordinary, inhuman. Or actually, very much human.

   “Sir, wait please!”

You quickened your step after him, and so he stopped and turned his head to watch your face, unphased.

   “What do you want from me?”

   You smile at the question. You didn't want anything from him: he worried you, that’s it. His gaze seemed so far away and so cold and as the burning match of pure love that you were, you refused to let it go like that.

   “I just felt like you needed someone to reach out for you, for some reasons,” you said, a gentle smile playing on your lips.

   Illumi didn't understand. To tell the truth, he didn't understand any of the words that came out of your mouth, nor their tone, nor their intentions. It was too sweet for his world, too foreign. He had never had real warmth and never felt the need for it but you were there and making your presence known as you see fit. So he just watched.

   Your smile never left you as you carefully undid your scarf. Illumi was tall so you needed one jump and another to get it around his neck while he drowned in incomprehension. Your neck was cold now but you didn't care and lifted your umbrella higher in an attempt to cover Illumi's head.

   “Can I buy you a hot chocolate? Coffee perhaps? ” you asked.

   But Illumi wasn't listening to you, his eyes fixed on the scarf you had so gently forced around his neck. New questions had crept into his mind in a mad dance, a mix of emotions that overwelmed him in a heat he didn't know; he wasn’t feeling hot, just warm. Did you just burst the bubble of his world? Did you just made a little hole in it to blow hot air, and make him experience a part of the humanity he lacked? Could someone do this in a few seconds? Could you?

   “Who are you?” he asked after finally catching one of his racing thoughts.

   "Me? My name’s (Y/N)! ” you said. “So? What do you prefer? ”

You could.

   “Why?”

You didn't mind his questions, you did know it might be weird to have a stranger come out of nowhere to put a scarf around you and invite you to a drink.

   “Well, it’s better if you drink something you like, right?” you giggled. “And you have no coat, nor an umbrella and you’re wearing short sleeves! I figured out a scarf would be welcomed, haha! ”

   Illumi was looking at you once again. He scanned your face, looked for an ounce of malice, possible betrayal, but found nothing. There were really strange people on Earth. He decided to accept, perhaps in the hope of forgetting his existential questions that he usually never had. Eyes black, dark and lost hovered over your frame thinking that perhaps wouldn’t be so bad to wait his next mission with someone. You weren’t sure why he accepted but you were glad nonetheless.

   “Great! I know a perfect café not so far and I swear, their pastries are just delicious! ” You point to a café with warm appearances and decorated with Christmas garlands. “You’ll like at least one thing there for sure!”

   You were right, the pastries were excellent and the room wasn’t too crowded. Illumi had kept the scarf on even while drinking his coffee while you smirked at him through the steam of your drink. He amused you with his perfect posture and manners.

   "Do you come from a rich family?"

   "Yes."

   "Ah, I knew it!" You laugh. "What family?."

   “Zoldycks.”

   Your eyes widened for a moment and Illumi thought he had scared but you still laughed, still so sweet. You didn’t seem to mind.

   “Wow! This is quite something! "

   “Most people would have at least started getting nervous after hearing that, and yet you are laughing.” Illumi sighed. “I think I have something that keeps attracting crazy psychopaths.”

   "I'm not a psychopath!" You pouted slightly and sipped from your hot chocolate. “And what do you mean by you’re always attracting them?”

   “My husband.”

   You bursted into intense laughter.

   “Who- “you breathed sharply through your laugh. “Just who calls their husband a psychopath?”

   “Because he is.”

   And your laughter started again. Illumi calmly explained everything there was to know about his relationship with Hisoka. You listened eagerly, finding every detail fascinating. Illumi had a complicated life, but he never seemed to talk about how he felt. He told everything as one would recite facts, with the utmost objectivity. Illumi didn’t feel as if talking about his life was important but you seemed to enjoy it and he couldn’t care less about what you knew about him. You were weak so he didn’t have to worry and just went with the flow.

   “It's a strange story. I hope you’ll figure everything’s out! ” you said once he finished talking.

   You looked at the walls around you and found the story of your new acquaintance even stranger in a place like this. The walls were a beautiful honey color, the armchairs extremely soft, the dishes were delicate, the smells mingled in the air, the sounds were joyful, and the shadows on the floor danced to the rhythm of the candles. What a great place to tell such a horrible story.

   "You’re crazy too, aren’t you?" said Illumi after a while of silence and a last sips of coffee. “Even crazier than Hisoka, I’d say. But you don’t particularly look like it, it’s just a feeling. I don’t know what is making me see you that way.”

   You put your cup down, closed your eyes and breathed in one last time the smell of butter and cinnamon before standing up. You put your coat back on and picked up your umbrella.

"Because you're right, I am crazy."

   His eyes never left your face now. He didn't expect you to be leaving so soon, or at least it seemed soon to him. When he checked the time on his phone, he surprised himself when he saw that at least three hours passed. You stayed three whole hours entertaining a stranger because his eyes looked weird to you and he couldn’t understand.

   “Perhaps I am the craziest!”

   “Perhaps. But why?”

   You played with your fingers as your gaze turned dreamy. Illumi noticed at that moment that you were breathtaking. Your whole being was so different from his world of extreme violence, cold and burning from Hell. You had a good heart, a beautiful soul, a touch of idealism that was so peculiar to him. Any other day, and he’d find you foolish. Tonight, your foolishness was welcomed.

   “I do believe that Humans are amazing and that the world is good. And because I so firmly believe this, I know I am crazy. ” You bite your lips. “For me, there’s no other possibility.”

   “Even with people like me?”

   “Especially with people like you,” you said. “You’re bad, awful even. But somehow you’re still human. And you still said yes to a bit of simple pleasure; a conversation and a coffee.”

   You smacked your cheeks to make your embarrassment go away, still smiling.

   “For me, it’s the proof that you aren’t that heartless, and that no one really is. ”

   Once you said goodbye to him and left, Illumi started thinking again. For a long time. So long that the café closed and he had to be kicked out by the manager.

   Outside, the rain had stopped but the cold was still there. The world seemed as dense as before, the sky still so dark, but the garlands of color were no longer annoying and the laughter of families and friends didn’t seem so loud anymore. Illumi realized that he was still wearing your scarf, that the taste of coffee still lingered on his tongue as the echo of your laughter in his ears and he hated that he liked it.

   He lived in the craziest world that could possibly exist and it’s a person like you, a big idealistic as well as a little bit of a simpleton who had just decided and succeeded in turning his life upside down in a few hours and a drink, in a way that even Hisoka or anyone could ever do. And he hated that he liked it even more.

   Maybe you really were the craziest. And maybe he wanted to see you again.

[abbysfrenchbraid]

Abby headcaons with female reader, and it’s the first time with a strap on

Ohhhh good one! Sorry I only got to it now, my AbbyxReader morning fluff is finally finished and I’ll post it tonight!

This got really long and kind of mutated into a half fic so I’ll post it under a cut.

Warnings: smut, sex toys

Abby collects things on her patrols as we all know

What we don’t all know is that she doesn’t only collect coins

When she’s only with Manny they like to explore adult shops and take things home

Manny may or may not have a collection of penis rings in a box under his bed

The first time Abby took home a vibrator her whole world view changed

She has a collection of harnesses and dildos of all shapes and sizes but doesn’t really like to use them on herself (if someone else were to top her with one that would be an entirely different story)

You met Abby through mutual friends and knew she was into women and a bit of a player at that

She likes to make it seem like Manny is the big womanizer but she knows damn well it’s not only because of him that people jokingly call their room the sex den

You’ve been exclusively dating each other for a while now and you trust her 100%

She’s already gone down on you a few times and put her fingers to work, too. The blonde was quick to find all your buttons and press them just the right way, making you cum over and over until you’re a crying mess begging for her to stop

Aftercare is super important to her, she will hold you tight and let you freely cry and talk about your feelings, making you feel safe and cared for always. She will also make you tea and have snacks at hand, always making sure you’re hydrated and energized after a long session.

You’ve never been with someone with a penis before so you were reluctant about trying a strap on at first and Abby never pressured you into it

Now that you’ve gotten used to her gentle but strong fingers, you kind of want to try more and you know Abby would love to fuck you with a strap on and make you scream so loud the entire stadium will know what’s going on.

You start out really slowly, just making out heavily and grinding against each other until you’re shaking from anticipation and pleading to be touched

Abby lets you ride her face first, making you work for your pleasure and letting you set the pace and get confident in your skin.

She then flips you over and fucks you with one, then two, then three fingers, stretching you out and making you feel comfortable with the sensation. At this point you’re a moaning, sweating and dripping mess.

The wolf lets you watch as she takes off everything but her boxers and slips on the black harness with a decently sized, skin colored dildo.

You’re excited and a little scared, adrenaline rushing through your body at the thougt of that thing inside of you. You trust Abby to take it slow and be careful.

She makes sure both you and the toy are properly lubricated and warms it with her hands to make it more comfortable for you, then she lays down on top of you and slowly pushes in.

You don’t feel any pain, just this entirely new, overwhelming feeling of being completely filled, a diffent kind of pleasure waving over you than the one you feel when your lover’s fingers are inside of you.

When Abby is sure you’re okay, she starts with long, slow strokes, letting you warm up to the feeling while your breathing becomes more rapid and you dig your nails into her arms, telling her to please, please go faster.

She obliges and starts to fuck you harder, kissing and biting at your neck while you leave red streaks on her back and try to stifle your moans

When she finally sits up to a kneeling position, grabs your legs and pulls your hips onto her to get a deeper angle, you can’t remain quiet anymore and start crying out her name with every stroke

She sits up on her knees and pulls you up by your knees, pounding into you from the perfect angle to touch your g spot every time and make you scream obscenities while grabbing at the blankets, her hands, the wall behind you, anything to keep you in this universe

Abby starts rubbing your clit with her thumb as she slowly lowers you down and continues with slower, deep strokes as you press up onto your elbows. You look into her eyes as you come, crying out her name and falling back onto the pillows, tears streaming from your eyes

The solder slowly pulls out of you and lightly kisses your thigs, taking off the harness in the process.

She licks you clean even though you whine at the overstimulation, then she kisses her way back up to you and lets you taste yourself

After letting you cry into her chest and gently stroking your hair, she asks you what you think and you have a sincere conversation about the experience and what it means for your future sex life.

When you ask Abby if you can fuck her, too, she goes bright red but answers the question truthfully, saying that no one has ever tried to do that, but she’d like to see what it feels like.

You laugh, talk and cuddle until you fall asleep and you go through the next day with a sheepish grin on your face, carrying around your little secret and looking forward to having Abby all to yourself again.

as always, if you enjoyed or have another request, let me know 💌

[our-heroes-rise]

light of my life

pairing: todoroki x reader

request: Hiya! I was wondering if I could get headcanons for Shoto and his gn/nonbinary s/o during the training camp attack. Like he finds his s/o injured and fighting/they help out with protecting Bakugou and almost get kidnapped? Also, if it isn’t too much trouble, could his s/o have a photo kinetic quirk? They can control and bend light, glow in the dark, and make solid objects out of light like swords, shields and stuff? Sorry if this is too much. Much love! 💛💛

hero name: vigilante!

warnings: angst + swearing + mentions of suffocation (nothing graphic!)

word count: 2,539

a/n: it’s never too much!!! detailed request are fun cause there’s more to work withhh, hehe. also super cool quirk bro i love it! i have an oc with a similar one! btw, i’ve been watching a lot of criminal minds lately so... well if you watched the show you’ll understand why it has the sort of tone it has lol. edit: this is me reading your request again a little later. YOU WANTED HCS? w e l p i wrote you a whole scenario instead because this idea was just too good lol. i still hope you enjoyed it though!

No one ever truly understands the fragility a life holds until it’s a hair’s breadth away from shattering into a million pieces before their eyes. Until it’s ripped from their grasp and dangled like a treat out in front of them. Strangled from their throats by an overwhelming poisonous fog that swirls like fire’s smoke in the depth of their lungs, greedily absorbing every ounce of oxygen with each inhale.

As humans, who stand at the top of the food chain, we often forget how terribly weak we can be against others of our kind. Each of us wants to believe that if it came down to it, if we were thrown into that last millisecond before life or death, that we would fight until our very last breath. But the ugly truth remains; not all of us have that ability. Not all of us are capable of staring down death as it comes hurtling towards us with our teeth bared and fists curled ready for a brawl.

Some of us are simply built to run and there is nothing we can do to change that.

Unless you are the few who choose to reject that belief. The ones who choose to veer their fleeing in the right direction, towards the impending danger and cries for help. The ones that evil should fear the most because those are the strongest and most resilient fighters of all. They turn their fear into heated, unyielding determination, ready to burn through any threat that stands in their path without hesitation because they will never stop running after the ones they are meant to save.

And yet, life has still never felt frailer than in this slow crawling moment of asphyxiation.

Get up.

Leaves cling to your clammy palms, soil caking the skin beneath your nails, fingers clawing at the ground for purchase, dragging your body across the forest floor towards Jiro’s purple shrouded figure still lying limp on the ground.

Get. Up.

Your vision swims, black creeping in from the corners, eyelids mimicking the weight of boulders.

Get up!

Fighting isn’t an option but running is. You can still reach her. You can still save her.

Your arms tremble horribly with the simple effort of lifting your torso off the ground. You grit your teeth, then pray that what little breath you have stored in your lungs is enough, and will your legs to move.

⊹⊹⊹

Shoto hears a rustling in the shrubs behind him, but the elongated teeth that come hurtling towards him don’t allow him the luxury of glancing over his shoulder to see what it was. A barrier of ice prevents any of the villain’s attacks from landing, though it doesn’t hold long before he’s forced to throw up another one, tightening his grip on the unconscious boy slung across his back. There’s an aggravated growl from Bakugou beside him.

He can’t imagine anything good emerging from the strangely colored fog looming behind them. Best case scenario it’s a forest critter fleeing the chaos, in the worst case it’s another villain coming to heard them closer to danger.

Please be safe. Please.

Your excited smiling face just before he entered the trial of courage runs through his mind like an endless loop, tightening the vice-like grip of anxiety around his heart. You had been behind him and Bakugou with Jiro as your partner. He wishes more than ever now that he had traded places with Jiro. Without knowing exactly how far apart each group was, he could only hope that it was far enough so the fog couldn’t reach you. No matter how unlikely the situation was.

The rustling movement comes again, the blade-tooth villain attacks once more, forcing Shoto and Bakugou back a step before Shoto’s able to protect shield them.

“You hear that too, right, half’n’half?” Shoto sees from the corner of his eye that Bakugou has cast his gaze to the trees bordering each side of them, searching.

“Yeah,” he grunts, shifting the unconscious boy’s weight. “I won’t be able to protect both of us if it’s another villain. And I can’t keep this up forever, his attacks are becoming stronger, more enraged.”

“I never needed your damn protection anyway.” Shoto withholds an eye roll. Leave it to the class hot head to remain stuck in his ways even when his own life is at risk. “If it’s another villain I’ll kill him.”

“They’re after you. You’ll have to be more mindful of your attacks.” Another barrage of ice to counter the villain's attack. “If you start another fire you’ll just -”

“Yeah, yeah I get it Icyhot, get off my fuckin’ -” A sharp intake of breath pulls Shoto’s attention away for just a millisecond, barely enough time to see the alarm flicker across Bakugou’s face, then he’s occupied with the villain again.

“What? What is it?” Shoto demands, words chopped through gritted teeth.

“The fuck happened to you?” Bakugou asks instead to presumably whatever has made its exit from the fog.

Shoto’s mind races with a million possibilities. Could the fog have more side effects than knocking its victims unconscious, like physical mutation? Was it another student or a new villain? The villain who created the fog or a different one? Was it -

“Shoto, look out!”

He was too late. His ice wasn’t fast enough but - but the glimmering white shield of moonlight was. The tooth-blade rattled against the hard exterior with four others before withdrawing for the following attack, which he was ready for this time. His next ice wall would be thick enough to hold the villain off for a few extra seconds, that way he could see, he had to make sure it was -

“Y/n.” His bout of relief lasts less than a second after taking in your ragged appearance. “What happened?”

Jiro is sprawled on top of a stretcher with the same moonlight shimmer of the barrier you had protected him with moments ago. She’s unconscious. You lower the floating slab of light holding your partner to the ground beside you, now well away from the poisonous cloud.

“The. . . The fog it just -” you sway heavily, and Bakugou catches you by the shoulder “- it just came out of nowhere. And then... Jiro she got - she took it the worst so I had to. . .”

You shake your head and Shoto can tell that you’re fighting to keep yourself upright. His heart aches, but he can’t go to you yet, the villain isn’t leaving any time for that.

“It doesn’t matter,” you huff, raking your fingers through your hair, bleary eyes focusing on the pillars of ice behind Shoto. “I think there were others behind us but we can’t count on them to take out the source of the fog so our only option is to keep going forward or find a way around. Either way, we’ll have to fight sooner or later.”

“Y/n, you can barely stand. If you try to fight -”

“I’m fine,” you bite out, eyes snapping to Shoto for the very first time. And it isn’t your tone of voice that snaps his mouth shut, it’s the weight of your stare. The stubborn resolve that burns like an untamed flame, roaring in the face of your exhaustion. “If I stop now there’s no getting back up. I won’t be another piece of dead weight for you guys.”

“What about Jiro?”

“Of course, I’ll protect her too. We’ll be okay.”

Bakugou has stopped paying attention to the two of you in favor of the villain, the sound of ice cracking and giving under the thrust of more bladed attacks registers in the back of Shoto’s mind, and he knows its only a matter of seconds before he’ll be needed again. As much as he wants to, he can’t force you back. He knows you too well, you wouldn’t let him get the next word out.

Shoto levels you with a stern look. “We’re only fighting to get away, not to take the villain out. Understand?”

Your lips pull up in a wide wobbly grin that still manages to flood his chest with warmth, reminding him of every reason why he had fallen for you in the first place.

“Got it.”

⊹⊹⊹

He should have known better than to let you walk in the back with the other two. You should have been at the front of the group with him and the other three injured classmates. But the second Midoriya had asked you to be one of the few to walk with Bakugou you agreed without a second thought. Shoto knew there wasn’t any talking you out of it, not when you were aware of how important your role of protection was. If anything or anyone came at Bakugou one of your light shields would be more than enough to keep the threat at bay until the others were alerted.

Of course, you would have had to hear the threat coming in order to defend against it.

“I really would have left the light wielder alone,” Mr. Compress sighed, the sound of his feigned regret fueling the rage coursing through Shoto’s veins. “But after seeing their abilities in the sports festival, I knew they would just get in the way. And we can’t have any more setbacks, so, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be off!”

No. No, no, no! Not them too. NO!

Shoto was the first to take off after Compress, sprinting down the path as fast as his legs would carry him, the others just a step behind him. Every fiber of his being buzzed with adrenaline, with the demand to bring you back to him, to reach the others. He was not giving up until every single one of you was safe back at camp. Especially you.

Especially you.

All he could see was your face. Your kind, beautiful face, smiling wide with adoration as he plants a quick tentative kiss on your cheek on one of the first dates he took you on. The way your nose scrunches cutely when he says something unknowingly funny. The way you look at him when you think he isn’t paying attention, how your eyes roam his face, caressing every feature of his with invisible loving hands. The way your cheeks flushed after the first time he kissed you.

The only time he’s ever kissed you.

Shit, he’s only kissed you one time, and he sure as hell won't let it be the last.

He would not let them take the only piece of solace he’s had since reconnecting with his mother. From the moment he understood his feelings for you he vowed to protect your smile, no matter what. It was what brought him comfort, made him feel loved, wanted, happy. He would be damned if he let them rip you away from him, strip you of that smile that breathes life into everyone else around you.

Sometimes it frightens him how quickly he fell for you. There had been no warnings, no road signs, no heads up, just a cliff that he had stepped right off the edge of. Shoto didn’t even know he was plummeting into an endless pit until he realized that there was a weightless feeling in his stomach every time he saw you, every time you spoke to him, every time you looked in his direction. And by then it was too late. He had no hope of rescue, already too far gone.

Sometimes it frightens him how easily you caught him, worried that he’ll do something to make you let go. To scare you away for good.

But then he remembers moments where you look at him with those eyes that could melt even the coldest heart, hold onto his hand as if the next second he might disappear, and remind him of the reasons you will always love him, no matter the differences that might come between you.

And he can’t help but feel safe.

He won’t lose you.

⊹⊹⊹

“Poor Todoroki Shoto,” the scarred villain whispers just as Shoto’s hand clasps around only one of the marble casings.

His heart sinks at the statement as hits the ground rolling, ignoring his spinning vision to stare down at the marble in his hand, trying to see who he was holding.

Did that bastard mean he had grabbed the wrong one? Were you still -

Before he can finish scrambling to his feet to chase back after the villain, there’s a flash of blinding light and a sudden limp weight in his arms. Blinking away the spots in his vision he quickly makes out your sleeping face.

The relief that floods his chest is selfish, he knows that, but in the moment he can’t bring himself to care as he crushes you to his chest, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. Weak fingers twist into the fabric of his shirt and he looks up in time to catch Bakugou vanish into the portal with the other villains.

He’s torn between a whirlwind of emotions, pushing and pulling him in all directions. Shame, regret, anger, devastation.

“Shoto?”

His gaze drops to you to see you staring up at him through tired, lidded eyes, worried, and confused. Then there’s terror in your moment of clarity, you go shooting upwards, head whipping around.

“No! Bakugou! Tokoyami!” You sob, fingers twisting further into his shirt. “Where are they, Shoto? What happened?! I was trying to - they were - oh god, no, I couldn’t -”

“Tokoyami is here. He’s here.”

“And Bakugou?”

When Shoto can’t bring himself to respond he watches your expression crumble with complete remorse.

Where was that smile he had sworn to protect now?

Shoto curls you back towards his chest, where you release the worst of your sobs, soaking through his shirt while he tries his best to comfort you without words. Because he knows there aren’t any to take away the pain you’re enduring, thinking that you could have done any more than you had. So, he holds you tight, tucks your head under his chin, presses a kiss to your hair.

It’s less than a minute later when your sobs subside and he realizes that you’ve likely fainted again. The pros arrive a few minutes after, followed by the police and paramedics, who usher you into an ambulance along with the other injured students. On the ride to the hospital, you drift in and out of consciousness, each time squeezing the hand he has wrapped around yours, reassuring him and the paramedics that you’re okay, you’re just tired, that it’s just a little hard to breathe.

Even half-alive you still try to keep people calm, make them feel at peace.

Moments before reaching the hospital you come too for one more minute, then turn to him, gaze hazy, but he recognizes that same look from before, from just after you emerged from the poisonous fog. 

Voice thick with the painkillers that are pumping through your blood, you whisper to him, “We’re going to get him back, Sho.”

Shoto manages to give you a small smile, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. “We will.”

[decayandfanfics]

The great book of sayings

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x FemReader

SUMMARY: He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed on yours, burning a hole through your head, every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.A clever girl. He thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing himself in the very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset. He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) he’ll think of this moment many times from now on.A clever pretty girl.

Reader is a typical college student until she gets herself tangled with the league of villains.

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, violence, Tomura being Tomura, mentions of murder, heroes’ abuse of power, smut later.

A/N: I’m trying so hard to write crusty boy here really in character. At least after AfO is taken. Any misspelled words, english is not my native language so i’m trying Helen.

___________________________________________________________

Chapter 8 / Chapter 9

You show me the man and I’ll show you the rule.

Tomura thinks he knows nothing about beauty, but then she proves him wrong.

(He thought her pretty before already, but after seen it…he concludes she’s the most beautiful, terrific thing he’s ever seen. Not that he would tell her that.)

A feral dangerous creature living inside of her with no other match.

No other but him.

Oh...you have no idea...She told him.

It happens so fast. One moment she’s there, sitting in front of her laptop, pretty and quiet and serene. All harmony and light, resting softly under the sunlight, between her dumb succulents and the spices that fill her home. Then he can hear Dabi’s caustic laugh and the wrong words. He’s disrespectful, an instigator, skilled in the art of making others lose their composure like is his favorite game.

He hears the foul words, the berating, and the mocking aimed to him, while she sits wide eyed and impossible flustered by the kitchen table.

Dabi smirks triumphant, like he always does after giving everyone a piece of his drama and Tomura watches him, wincing, reminding himself again that Dabi is supposedly oldest than him and Toga, and yet he does his best to being an annoying brat.

Tomura knows better to just let him bark, his remarks mean nothing to him, he knows what he is, and he knows what he isn’t. He’s a freak, yeah. That too, but he isn’t a child anymore, so he let it slide, keeping his eyes glued to his phone arching an inquisitive brow, ready to just let it die there.

He just forgot about the stupid little stunts of bravery she has this tendency to commit. (An annoying dangerous trait that makes him chuckle with something akin to fondness.)

She’s having none of the bullshit, Dabi’s little remarks had fed her up after a whole week of spiteful teasing, her precious patience has run thin.

“blue eyes are a mutation too, so you are no one to talk about it.”

The moment she opens her mouth, Tomura feels something warm filling the hollow place where his dead heart should go and it’s so foreign to him that for a moment he panics and thinks (very stupidly) that maybe his energy drink-based diet is finally going to kill him, and he (barely in his sweet twenty’s) is having a stupid heart attack.

But the pain never comes, it’s just her, voicing a clever answer, defending him.

“A quirkless little bitch? Seriously, Dabi? Where you raised in a fucking barn that you know nothing but fuck this and bitch that?

He wants to make her shut it, but he can’t find the words. Not when her remarks are sharp and funny to hear. (Besides, her voice sounds so sweet when she’s throwing smart ass angry comments just to back him up.)

It warms him and enrages him equally. How dare she to defend him? He can speak for himself on his own and doesn’t need her to make any back up about an insult he doesn’t care for. Stupid pretty woman. Trying to shut Dabi, putting herself in danger for the likes of him...Is she insane? (later that day, he’ll conclude that she must be pretty fucking nuts to have them all in her home after all, but somehow the thought only makes him like her more.)

“yeah. I know stupid cunt too.”

Dabi likes to cause havoc and now he’s pissed, so he throws a vulgarity aimed at her. Tomura feels the hot pang of anger at the other man, because the offense is not only an insult, but also a lie.  She’s not stupid nor a cunt. She's sharp as a knife and kind enough to share with them. 

“Dabi, cut it out.” He warns with a grimace, and now the fight has everyone tense in the room.

“I’m sure you do. Pretty useful to describe yourself I bet.” She snarls showing her teeth, an angry frown darkening her features and Tomura swears her eyes begin changing color.

“you sure like to bet, like how you are betting I don’t burn you alive for being an annoying bitch.”

This time Tomura gets fucking furious, something animal revolving inside of him at the idea of Dabi threatening her. But the fight is escalating so fast, he can’t say anything before she answers back.  

“Fuck off, Dabi. This might be shocking for you, but you don’t scare me.”

He wants to laugh at this, truly. Feisty little thing she is when angered, all her soft ways and nerd knowledge thrown out the window in a fit of cocky bickering and a part of him is living for the chaos of it.

“now, that’s pretty fucking stupid of you.”

“Dabi, shut up!” Tomura growls irked with the way her hair has begun to float over her shoulders, now completely convinced that she’s not quirkless at all.

“I’m not the one insulting everyone just because I cannot deal with some fucking daddy issues.”

God fucking dammit woman, just shut up. He thinks frustrated, giving her a look worth a stab.

“YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT” Dabi snarls before kicking the little table in the living room, breaking one of its legs with a loud crack.

“CUT IT OUT!” she screams this time, standing from her chair “I don’t have to know when it’s plainly obvious you have problems with authority.”

“you really think you are so clever, don’t you?” Dabi states, crossing the living room, aiming to her, so Tomura leaves his place in the corner to stand at her side without even thinking why.

“I know I am, asshole!”

Dabi stops his tracks, looming over her like a monster. His eyes scanning her face before looking at Tomura, who stands by her with his hands open in front of him in clear warning.

The black-haired man looks at her before moving to Tomura, his brows raised in surprise as he chuckles darkly.

Shigaraki hates the way he looks at him, like he knows his thoughts. Like he knows he’s been creeping into her room to watch her sleep and the sinister lustful visions that sometimes plague his dreams after some playful back and forth every time she defies him with some smart-ass comment.

“stupid woman. You should know better.”

And then…he just slaps the laptop out of the table; the computer smashing open against the cemented ground.

Tomura remembers this moment like one would remember the witness of a car crush or a catastrophe. A simple second enough to amaze him for a lifetime.

The way her eyes just ignite into scorching red lights shining like burning embers under her frown brow. Her hair floats free from gravity over her shoulders like a terrible chaotic crown as her mouth flash pearly teeth in a feral snarl.

He watches how she claws her right hand, fingers curling, knuckles tensing and Dabi is suddenly choking under the pressure of some raw power. His limbs twisting painfully in horrific motion and unnatural angles in complete agony.

A second later and before anyone could grasp what’s happening, her other hand pointing pinky, index and thumb to Compress, Toga and himself, keeping them frozen in their place, a strange rigid pressure making him feel like he’s full of cement and any movement will shatter his bones and snap his spine.

He can’t move, he can barely breathe. Feeling like if every fiber of his being, every muscle, every cord is solid hard under his skin, unavailing him to get away.

But he can watch, so he watches her terrified and amazed.

Her quirk is rare, and powerful and dangerous. But she keeps it locked away, sleeping soundly, safely caged inside her ribs, like the best hidden weapon, perfect for torturing bodies and bending wills. Buried deeply under her layers of kindness and humor.

One twitch of a finger, and Dabi’s neck would snap in two and they can do nothing but just watch when little blood vessels begin to burst in the white of his eyes as he pants desperate for air, his veins contorting furiously under the marred skin of his neck and the flames scatter in some random parts of his body without any control.

Tomura swears he can hear Dabi’s bones crackle under the invisible force as his spine bends backwards in a sickening angle.

And, as sudden as it begins, ends.

Her hair falls and her eyes are no longer red. Dabi breathes again falling to his knees and for a moment Tomura thinks he will cry out of pure fright.

For a moment he wonders if Toga and Compress want to cry too because that felt like certain death, but is sweet, somehow. Something within him squirms joyfully with the notion of her own violence. She is as dangerous as him, no damsel in distress, no little girl in need of care, no simple quirkless girl, but a horrifying woman. A dangerous and powerful creature with a quirk made for torment, just like-

He looks at her, just to find a sad disappointed face. A thick trail of blood began sliding silently from her nose, tainting the perfect bow of her lip. Only then he notices the bloodshot eyes and how the color has run from her face.

She stands quiet and bitter watching between her hands and Dabi trying to catch his breath. Her face giving away guilt and self-loathing (two feelings he’s very familiar with.) but unlike him, she is no tormentor, she grasps no joy in watching Dabi suffer, nor do she wish of making them quiver to the sight of her.

She is kind, and brave, and witty. Humorous girl, quick at wordplay and puns; buying vitamins and oranges for them and something about no one getting scurvy under her watch.

He wants to laugh hysterically at her sight because she is magnificent, and for a moment he thinks that the boy with the destructive touch and the girl with the tormenting gaze sounds like a hell of a name for rulers and his heart shivers in excitement, but she is crying and clutches her guilty hands against her chest and ask them to forgive her for using her quirk on them.

She didn’t mean to; she didn’t want to. She likes them all very much, so she promises she’ll never hurt them again, and somehow it reminds him of something, but he cannot place a finger on what exactly.

He feels the sorrow drowning him. A grudge so horrid it makes him want to vomit and scratch his neck raw because something in her resembles something in him, but he cannot really grasp the motive of such connection, only knowing it has something to do with the hands he carries around like a symbol of his own distress and a little black-haired boy crying in some familiar backyard.

The sound of the bathroom door startles him and she’s no longer in the living room, but he can hear the quiet sobbing coming from behind the door.

Finally, Dabi decides to just fall backwards against the cold floor, still panting, an arm over his eyes.

Only then Spinner breaks the dreadful silence and ask the question they all want to make.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT.”

Chapter 10

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #462

i am way too tired to mentally flip through lyrics to put here, rip

Who in your family has been married the longest? (and how long?) I have zero idea. When did you last travel alone? Where were you going? The last time I visited Sara in Illinois. Do you take your shoes off when you come inside? Yes. What was the first color you ever dyed your hair? I think I got purple highlights? What was the first social media site you ever used? MySpace. Do you have any exes you really regret dating? One. Of all your friends & family, who has the most nicely-decorated home? Sara's house is lovely. Have you ever been catcalled? No. Are you allergic to any dogs? I might be. Have you ever touched a plant and had hives shoot up your arm? No. Do you think dragonflies are cool? Absolutely! What’s your favorite thing to draw? Meerkats!! Did you toss your hat in the air at graduation? Not high. I wanted to keep it. Do you like fudge? I CAN FUCKING DESTROY SOME FUDGE. Are you an affectionate person? Very. Name something you have to do today: Girt and I are hangin', making fun of bad Netflix anime and going to Buffalo Wild Wings. :^) Would you ever write to a death row inmate? No. People don't get on death row for no reason. I ain't got shit to say to them. Do you reckon online friendships are real? No fucking shit. Most of my most genuine friendships began online. Do you like Slipknot? Yep. Can we talk about how fuckin BADASS Corey's new mask is btw?????????? What do you think of Gorillaz? I like "Feel Good Inc." and one other song I can't remember the name of. Bow ties on guys, dorky or adorable? BOTH!!!!! :') What is the cutest Halloween costume for a baby to wear? GUYS I recently saw a picture of a little baby dressed up as a Little Oogie Boogie and it made my ovaries cry. Which of your friends is the tallest? Which of them is the shortest? Jesus, Girt is a giant. I don't know about my shortest... If you could re-paint your bedroom, what color would you choose? Pastel pink. :') What has been the best night of your life so far? Why? Probably something sexual so let's keep it on the down low lmfaooo Would you ever even think about taking part in a wet t-shirt contest? Uh, no. Even if I WAS confident in my body. Is you hair color the same as it was when you were a baby? No. It was dirty blonde. Have you ever been in trouble for being too loud? Ha, yeah, at school with friends. Not big trouble or anything, we were just hushed. Did you ever attend a wedding that was a complete disaster? No. What is something that you were surprised you were able to do? Hm. What is the most bullshit-sounding true fact that you know? Male cats have spiked penises lkasdjfal;kje;kjwr it's something to do with preventing other tomcats from mating with her. What Oreo flavor is your favorite? Gimme that Double Stuffed, friend. Sour gummy worms or plain gummy worms? SOUR. Ever been in a talent show? How many times? What did you do? Nope. Ever try out for the talent show and not make it? Did you cry? Nope. What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever cried about? Y'all when I was a very little kid, during my older sister's b-day party, I sobbed because I couldn't pin the tail properly on the donkey lmaoooo How do you feel about the use of nuclear weapons? Absolutely fucking barbaric. What song has the most meaning to you? "Life Won't Wait" by Ozzy Osbourne. What is your favourite dinosaur? Spinosaurus!!!! :') Have you ever made bread? No. Has anything ever fallen asleep on you? Pets, a baby I was watching after, and Jason. Ever been dominated in a game you were/are really good at? yep alskdjfla;jwej Have you ever decided to set fire to something out of anger? No. Would you rather be a house pet or a wild animal? Wild animal, I guess? Have you ever listened to a group of chanting monks? I haven't. If you had to get a portrait tattoo, who would it be of? Probably of Teddy. I've still yet to decide on the total design of his tribute tat I'm getting. Do you like the smell of men’s colognes better than woman’s perfumes? I think so, yeah. How mad would you be if someone copied your original work (story, poem)? I'd be pretty fuckin pissed. Have you ever blown something up in science class? Ha, no. Have you ever gotten a serious wound from shaving? Not serious, no. Have you invented anything, only to find out it actually exists? I feel like I have? Ever realize you never truly LOVED your first love? Absolutely not. I loved him. Would you want a Bachelor/Bachelorette party before you get married? Sure, sounds fun. Do you prefer pads, tampons or something else? As of very recently, I returned to using pads. I used tampons for most of my maturity, but I got annoyed with them for TMI reasons and resorted back to pads, even though I don't like them either. Have you ever dated a model? No. What is your ultimate goal in life? To die happy with my life and what I (hopefully) accomplished. What colour are the socks you’re wearing today? I’m not wearing any. Who was the last person you sent a Facebook message to and what did you say? Girt. It was something regarding how I once considered doing the suicide mission at BWW where you eat a select number of their hottest wings, but I didn't wanna die via chicken. :^) Are you tall, short or average? Would you change this? I'm average in height. I wouldn't change it, nah. Especially now that Girt and I are together the ridiculous height difference is hilarious but also cute lmao. Have you ever worked in a store while someone shoplifted there? Like, while I was there? No. Have you ever had casual sex? Nahhhh. What’s your favourite flavour of frosting? Chocolate. @_@ When you think of your childhood, are the memories mostly happy or sad? Mostly happy, I guess. What is it like being you? Is it enjoyable? It's very boring with few sources of joy. What are your thoughts on the cause of homosexuality? I would *assume* it's a genetic mutation. Reason being, having a romantic partnership without the ability to reproduce defies the motives of science. There is nothing, absolutely NOTHING, wrong with said (and hypothetical) genetic mutation, though. Mutations are just another part of science. They occur naturally. What subjects did you find most interesting in school? Least? Most interesting: literature/English (especially reading like, old mythology and epics and stuff like that), LOTS of branches of science (but primarily genetics), art, and I looooved my four semesters of German. Least: ANY and ALL math, history, economics, social studies... that kind of stuff. Which do you enjoy more–hot or cold beverages? Cold, for sure. What were some of your favorite bands from childhood? Green Day was one. Would you be more afraid of drowning or being buried alive? Buried alive, for sure. It would be much, much slower. Should you really be doing something more productive right now? Well, I SHOULD be sleeping. Today's going to be a long day, because when Girt comes over, he has a tendency to not leave until like fuckin midnight or later alksdjfl;waje Have you ever lived out of your car? No. Does your family own more than two houses? HUNNY we r poor. A relative just committed a very serious crime, do you turn them in? It depends on the exact crime, but odds are, yes. If you're endangering others, byyyyeeee. You’re in the woods, alone, at night…are you honestly not afraid? Bitch I'm terrified. I have zero survival skills. You are on life support, what would you want a loved one to do about it? For the love of god, please kill me. Your child has only a while to live, do you still enroll them in school? That would be up to them. Also, define "a while." How would you feel if you met your idol and they ended up being rude? WELP I have a tattoo in his honor so that would suck ass lmao According to the tale, was Eve wrong for eating and sharing the apple? "God was wrong for even setting up an apple tree and making up rules in the first place." <<<< There ya go. And the punishment was fucking ludicrously extreme. Are you working on any goals? Yes. I'm currently going to the gym regularly to try and better my physical health and then find a job. I know that being connected sounds odd, but trust me: I can barely carry out very simple tasks just because I have absolutely ZERO stamina to do almost anything. I need energy and endurance. I'm also working towards developing some self-love. Which parent named you? I wanna say my mom. Are you currently frustrated with someone? I mean, myself. Aforementioned self-love is hard. I'm just annoyed my head is so reluctant to accept that I'm not a piece of shit for a million reasons. Why have most of your past relationships ended? They all ended for different reasons, really. Are you having any online conversations, currently? I'm not. What’s on your mind? I'm just tired and going back to bed real soon. Have you ever had an argument with a teacher? No.

[pseud0knots]

Please tell me about shatterstar's Childhood

oh my god anon okay I’m assuming in context of what I’ve recently posted you want like... my version of events rather than what’s canon but just in case I hope you know that there’s basically zero canon material that actually describes his childhood/young adulthood beyond “I was a warrior born” or whatever the fuck. if you want to know about that idk go on the fucken... marvel wiki page or something

also--I hate that I have to put this out here and I doubt anyone would actually do this but just in case--I have spent like 1 million hours thinking about this because I have brain disorders and it is very close to my heart so please do not A) use this in fics, etc without letting me know/getting my permission in advance or B) reblog this post

anyways. this is a can of worms so I’m going to do a cheeky lil

first we have to get something out of the way: I hate the “shatterstar’s his own grandpa” paradox. I am sorry if this angers people but it makes me mad so I ignore it. the reason it bothers me is because it means alison blaire essentially married her grandson, which is A) weird and B) bad from a genetics perspective.

in my version of canon ‘star IS the biological child of longshot and dazzler but longshot wasn’t cloned using ‘star’s DNA because..... oh god... another whole separate post can be made about this but... in my head, on mojoworld the way genetic engineering works is not really the same as it is here. here genetic engineering generally means taking an existing genome and inserting or deleting genes. this is how they make, for example, animals that glow, or confer pesticide resistance to plants.

but on mojoworld I think the way they genetically engineer is more like... the way we mechanically engineer. like the entire organism is built from the ground up. there’s a master genetic blueprint which is essentially the “minimal genome” required for a functioning humanoid. this was created by study of Earth humans by arize and the other genetic engineers. they can then go in and customize by adding elements to the genome that code for the signals/building blocks that control things like height, strength, hair color, eye color, having hollow bones etc. so in my head longshot was sort of... designed with ‘star as the inspiration, but not directly cloned. that wouldn’t even make sense anyways because A) different hair color and B) LONGSHOT HAS 3 FINGERS ON EACH HAND and shatterstar has 4!! thats NOT HOW CLONES WOULD WORK!!!!

(side note, the concept of a minimal functional genome is a real thing in biology! some scientists have taken a bacterium that already has a small genome and reduced it to the minimum size required for viability. here is a wikipedia article on it and here is the original paper (DOI: 10.1126/science.286.5447.2165) which I can explain in more detail because I took a class on synthetic biology which this technically falls under and I had to read this paper very closely).

fuck I’ve written 4 paragraphs and not even talked about his childhood yet. I am so sorry. anyways. so the way I think they raise the gladiators on mojoworld is they create them in batches of 5 to 10 identical copies of a certain “model”, place each copy in a different “class” with a set of 2-3 mentors/teachers, and train them to fight until they are 13 or 14. until this time the only names they have are the names that identify the “model”--like for shatterstar that would be gaveedra-seven where the model identifier is “gaveedra” and he is (in the lore that I have come up with) the 7th of 8 total.

the reason they create multiples and put them in different classes is each mentor is going to have a slightly different style of teaching which is going to work better for some and worse for others, so it allows them to have more mass production while increasing the chances of creating a truly great champion. it’s classic nature versus nurture--the genetic engineers create your nature, but you don’t end up exactly the same as others of your model. maybe you get an edge, maybe you don’t.

another thing that happens is different mentors believe in different ways of raising the kids in their care. shatterstar specifically was raised in a class where there was absolutely zero emotional development at all and no attachments allowed beyond fighting alliances. that’s not the case in all classes, and it also had the effect of making him somewhat of an outsider even within the other gladiators as he got older.

at 13 or 14--and yes I realize this is very fucked up but dude its fucking mojoworld idk what you expected--they start participating in fights. the first ones aren’t to the death and they’re as teams and they’re not usually televised they’re more like high school sports games that are attended by scouts (here, they’re “sponsors”--I think that’s a canonical term but I honestly can’t remember) and if you get sponsored you leave your class and join a new “team” that’s really just a bunch of people who all have the same sponsorship. this is where things can get interesting because they’ve all been raised with slightly different fighting styles but more importantly, slightly different degrees of Personhood.

also at this point I should mention that by this time, there are usually only 2, maybe 3 of each model left. either they died or were recognized as not having talent so they were sent to eventually fulfill other roles in the network. in ‘star’s case there was just him and gaveedra-five. once you get to the stage where you’re sponsored and you’re actually fighting to the death one of the first people you’ll fight is any remaining members of your model group.

by the time you’re the only one left of your group, you’re also eligible to earn a stage name. this usually happens if you have a particularly epic fight with a lot of viewers, you win and the commentators will typically say something like “Let’s give this crowd a real name to cheer!” and they’ll have a few candidate names and they’ll kind of just pick one. AUGH I actually have this scene written out in story form but its too long so I think I’ll save it.... :) 

after you get a name you also get a cool outfit and usually some kind of mark or tattoo that serves as a brand. this brings me to another important point--shatterstar inherited the X-gene from alison and therefore he IS a mutant. his mutation is the swords vibration thing and the glowing eye. the star mark is a tattoo and teleportation is benjamin russell’s mutation (how he fits into all this is... for another post). basically after he got his name the costuming department guys were like “hey your eye glows, you look like the Legendary Warrior of Old, Longshot, we’re gonna pattern your look after him” so they gave him the star tattoo and the outfit that’s literally inverse colors of longshot’s.

also this brings me to another aside: you’re probably wondering “if he’s the biological kid of longshot and alison how are there 8 gaveedras?” when the genetic engineers got a hold on him as a baby they were like Sick! free baby! free genetic material! thats our job done for us! so they cloned him (in the traditional sense) and made 7 copies. this was also to kind of conceal his identity as technically being from outside mojoworld, which would make him stick out and thus be a target. they DID edit out the x-gene in the other gaveedra models though. this wasn’t a problem for ‘star because his mutation didn’t manifest until he was already sponsored.

I think that’s .... pretty much it for macroscopic lore on what it was like to be a kid gladiator on mojoworld. now let me give you some Tidbits of his life specifically:

like I said he was raised in a particularly cold and ruthless class. the mentors that raised him are like well-known by everyone to produce some of the best warriors but also there’s discourse on mojoworld because some people say perfectly emotionless killing machines aren’t as fun to watch. when he was sponsored there were 4-5 others in the same sponsorship and they were like Theres Something Wrong With You LOL

they speak earth languages on mojoworld because they’re imitating the broadcasts they (the spineless ones) used to hear from earth. however, most of the lower-class as well as almost all arena fighters and other television personalities speak cadre or other languages which are native to the planet. the stage names are all vaguely in english, but the gladiators don’t really understand them at first.

shatterstar got his name before he got the glowing eye, and when he learned what stars are, and saw his eye as a little star, he was like wow :) this is Me :) which is why that name is so important to him. it’s also one of the first things that wholly belonged to him.

(you can’t see stars on mojoworld because of light pollution and also because it’s a pocket dimension and there just aren’t that many stars to see)

I hate to bring up the s**ley miniseries but I do think it would be interesting to have him have a sort of ... mentor/first friend, similar to the concept of gringrave but they were NOT in a relationship. it was more like... another kid who was a year or so older than him got a soft spot for him and helped him not be so clueless. she didn’t make as much progress as xforce did, obviously. but they were.... something like friends.

unfortunately she was used by spiral to get shatterstar to murder the first rebel guy who tried to get him out of there. then she got switched sponsors (this can happen) and he had to kill her, and he was like well I will simply never develop any kind of attachment to anyone ever again.

he almost didn’t make it out of the first training session with his sponsorship group (this is semi-canon--there’s a reference when he’s teaching terry to swordfight to almost not surviving the first time he was in a gladiator class or whatever it was).

the closest he ever came to losing was the day he got the name. that’s why the crowds loved it so much.

the double-bladed sword was a gimmick weapon but when he got his mutation they realized it works way better if there’s resonance between two parallel blades so they redesigned it as an actual weapon.

(forgot this but I feel like I should include it) at 17 he escaped the arenas and joined the cadre alliance. two years later he came to earth and joined xforce.

I think that’s going to have to be it for now because it’s literally almost midnight and I have work tomorrow and I did NOT intend to stay up this late but I did. thank you for this opportunity anon :) feel free to ask me any other questions and also I realize a lot of this probably makes no fucking sense and that’s because I am not a writer or anything I’m just a biochemist with brain problems that cause me to obsess over stupid shit

[stressedspidergirlsfandomblog]

Title: Monster

 SHIP (if applicable): Geraskefer PROMPT DAY: 6 MEDIUM: Books WARNINGS: Self-loathing, more accidental self-harm than deliberate, canon typical suicidal ideation SUMMARY:

“What a hideous smile I have, Geralt thought, reaching for his sword. What a hideous face I have. And how hideously I squint. So is that what I look like? Damn.” -Andrzej Sapkowski, Sword of Destiny

-

“Do you know, Visenna, what is done to witchers’ eyes to improve them? Do you know it doesn’t always work?”

“Stop it,” she said softly. “Stop it, Geralt.” -Andrzej Sapkowski, Sword of Destiny

WORD COUNT: 11891 AUTHOR’S NOTES: Read on Ao3

@geraltwhumpweek

Geralt hated sorcerers. They were never good company, with the except of Yennefer who still had her moments, and they were usually unnaturally cruel whenever given the chance. He had, of course managed to run afoul of this one, he always did. If there was a sorcerer involved, he was going to suffer. That was simply the life of a witcher, or any other poor soul who happened to cross paths with them.

“Geralt of Rivia, Geralt of Nowhere. Geralt of Kaer Morhen, Geralt of No Parentage. Geralt the Witcher, Geralt the Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt the Monster.”

Yes, that was all true, as far as Geralt was concerned. Nothing new, no worse than anything anyone else had said to him.

“I curse you.”

Fuck.

“I curse you so that you will look on the outside as you are on the inside. You will be the hideous monster you truly are. The monster you know yourself to be.”

Pain racked him so hard he thought he might die. His bones shifted like they had during the changes, his face stretching, cheekbones raising and flattening, jaw jutting forward and expanding as his mouth filled with sharp teeth, his lips pulling back and tearing as they failed to keep up with the changes to his skill. He screamed with the pain of it, and horror swamped him when an alien sound came from his mouth.

“Kill me, and it’s permanent,” the mage informed him.

The changes continued, his hands stretching into claws as his nails thickened and turned black like a wolf’s, his silvery hair spreading across more of his body. Geralt’s eyes turned true yellow, and he cried out again, the hoarse howl of a monster as his legs lengthened and thickened, making him taller even as his spine curled forcing him to hunch forward.

“However, true love, the purest kind can break the spell. Someone will have to love you as you are, seeing you as you truly are, for the spell to break.”

As his nose changed, growing sharper and hooking slightly he felt more shifts in his bones and tears in his skin where it failed to keep up and he moaned low in his throat. His voice had been unpleasant before, but now? Now it was the guttural sounds of a monster utterly incapable of speech. He tried. He tried to curse the mage before him, tears and snot running down his mutated face. When he tried to run his forearm across his face, he noticed the sinew and muscle standing out and the once fine dusting of milk white hair was now thick like pelt over his arm. He screamed again, hardly able to think. Geralt tore at it, the thick claws digging into flesh as he tried to pull some of the hair free.

He accidentally raked his own face in horror at the damage his claws had done, lifting them to try and cover his eyes and feeling them pierce the skin around his eyes and howled again.

“I suppose you should get used to your knew form, enjoy it, Geralt. After all, who could learn to love a beast?” The sorcerer opened a portal and stepped through it, smiling. Geralt lunged but was too late.

While his figure was mostly human, he felt, he couldn’t be too sure. His neck had changed and he had more trouble looking down at himself than he had before. Stay calm, focus, breathe, control your heart rate, control yourself. He looked down and saw his clothes mostly hanging in tatters. Something moved behind him and he twisted in panic raising his hands to defend himself with a cry of surprise. But nothing was there. But he could see something from the corner of his vision, and he twisted painfully to look down at himself and saw that he now had a tail.

The shock of it dropped him to his knees, cracking them painfully on the stone floor of the mage’s tower. He gripped it and thought about simply cutting it off. All that stopped him was that when Yennefer reversed the spell, it might hurt him in some other way. All of this had come from his body and to remove some of it might mean he would be less whole when returned to his natural state.

He tried to speak again and again but all that came out of his throat were horrible hoarse sounds. Wasn’t Dandelion always telling him all he did was grunt and grizzle? Now that was true. Perhaps a letter. He could send her a letter.

When he tried to pick up a writing implement from the desk his hands… claws, his hands were very nearly paws, and blackness edged around his vision again. He couldn’t hold the quill. Could barely pick it up, it was too fine, too delicate. Then he realized, who would mail the letter for him? How would he pay? A horrible chuffing sound came out of him and he realized that was his laugh. He screamed again, unable to help it.

It was daylight.  He was effectively trapped in the tower until nightfall. If people saw him they would hunt him down and kill him and he couldn’t even speak to them to explain. Couldn’t write them a message… or perhaps… perhaps he could.

It didn’t occur to him to use the inkwell, which would have been smarter. Instead, he dug his claws into his flesh tipping them in his own blood as he carefully wrote a message to Yennefer on the parchment. He had no idea if she’d ever find it. It said very little, and he had no way to mail it… no coins… but perhaps somehow it would make its way to her.

Yennefer- Mage. Curse. Help. -Geralt.

When he wiped at his eyes again, the fur on his forearm was streaked with blood. Bloodied tears? His heart squeezed. Was no part of him left human? He had to get out of there. He paced around the tower room and stopped when he saw a mirror. It was slightly warped, the silver bent and twisted, not good quality. But it was enough to make him sink to his knees in horror.

His clothing had torn around him, in some places digging into his skin and cutting him. He pulled it off where string and thread still tore into his flesh and looked at himself. While he had never been especially hairy fur had mostly replaced natural body hair and he uncomfortably touched his cheeks. He never even wore a beard, and now he had an odd coating of fur that started an inch or so away from his eyes and ran halfway down his neck. It picked up again at his sternum in a large circular shape before continuing over his abdomen and down to his groin.

“I envy you this, you know. It looks so low maintenance. I’ve never seen you trim or shave any of it,” Dandelion told him softly, stroking along his sides and hips. “Does it truly just grow this way? Nice and neat?”

“I don’t know if it’s neat,” Geralt protested lightly. “But it’s true, I don’t alter it.” Who did?

The poet gently stroked up the insides of his legs and over his hips, circling his groin with gentle touches. Geralt would have given anything for those delicate fingers to never stop. Being comfortable and safe like this was far better than sex. “I do, I spend quite a bit of time on it, maintaining it.”

“Why?” Geralt asked, he hadn’t particularly cared one way or the other about Dandelion’s body hair.

“Oh Geralt,” the bard teased, eyes twinkling. “As much hair grows here, if I didn’t keep it trimmed,” his fingers gently ran through the hair above Geralt’s cock, “people would think me much smaller than I am. Too much hair and you hide too much and even if there’s plenty no one will believe it.”

Geralt snorted in shock and laughed. Dandelion grinned at him, pleased to have made him smile. The bard gently leaned over to press a kiss to Geralt’s hip, and the witcher knew he was being given a choice. They could just continue to lie like this, or they could make love. He found both options tempting, but he didn’t feel like the amount of movement the latter would require. He gently cupped Dandelion’s cheek, guiding him up to kiss him on the mouth.

“Just sit with me,” Geralt asked, voice husky.

“Of course, love,” Dandelion agreed easily, continuing to let his fingers trail over and explore his lover. Every so often Geralt twitched a little, and the bard knew he’d found a new place to touch and tease during their lovemaking, but for now just being together was enough.

Thankfully his genitals were barely visible under the hanging fur, since pants weren’t going to be an option for him. Ashamed in ways he hadn’t thought possible, he tried to pick up his cloak from the chair and drape it around himself. All that happened was his claws caught and shredded the fabric. He laughed bitterly and startled when it came out as the chuffing bark noise from before. Tears ran over his cheeks again, the blood dyeing the fur on his face pink.

How was he going to wash himself? Or dress himself? Keep himself warm? His entire body wasn’t furred.

The mirror allowed him to see his jaw elongated and widened, new teeth full of sharp points that prevented him from closing his mouth entirely, which meant drool was starting to form at the corners of his lips. Hatred for himself sang in his heart. Even his ears had moved slightly, higher on his head and more pointed and leathery like a bat’s, perhaps. Barely recognizable as human other than the color.

His skin had turned even whiter, even less human, more like alabaster than the usual sallow paleness he was used to and his eyes…. Oh, they were so yellow and the slitted pupils- nothing he did would round them again like a normal man’s. The could widen and thin them but not enough. He would have thrown up if he could have.

Mostly his bone structure appeared to be the same, outside of his face, just longer and thicker. His hips pushed against his skin the way they did in lean months where he had little to eat, but he had a feeling this was permanent. Just as his ribs pulled the skin tight between them and his hips, leaving him with a small waist that exemplified several drawings of famine he’d seen.

Unable to bear the sight of himself he slammed a hand against the mirror without thinking and cried out when the silver burned. The glass shattered and bits of it stuck into his knuckles and flew at him, leaving red marks as if he’d been scalded. His claws were too brutish to pull the glass out and he found himself shredding skin attempting to pull the burning embers of silver from his body. Once they were out, he was left with mutilated knuckles and red welts all over himself where the mirror had exploded with the force of his strike.

Unsure of where to walk, his feet were mostly bare, his boots shredded and useless. He glanced at his medallion, he had torn it off along with his shirt. How would he wear it? How would people know it was him? He couldn’t speak, couldn’t tell them, couldn’t write… Moaning, he covered his face with his hands and wept, he had never felt so helpless in his life.

“Yen this is humiliating.”

“Your leg was broken and so was your skull. Get up and walk around with me.”

“I’m wobbling like a fawn, Yen, I don’t want to.”

“And how will you get better if you refuse to use your muscles?”

“My head aches.”

“And I shall rub your neck after, and perhaps your shoulders too, if you stop trying to delay the inevitable and get up and walk with me.”

“Perhaps you could rub something else?”

She snorted. “Are you done whining?”

“I wasn’t whining,” he argued, getting out of the bed shakily. The linen pants moved across the bandages on his shin and he took her hand, allowing her to help him up. Then slid his arm around her shoulders, leaning on her as they walked out of the room. She made him pace the length of the hall and back before allowing him to rest, and he was happy to hold her in his arms as he waited for his muscles to stop shaking.

He loved the feel of her hair over his skin, and the coolness of her touch on his body. She gently ran fingers through his hair, pressing gently as she massaged away the worst of his headache. He loved when they were close together like this, when there was no expectation, no pressure. They could just be.

Walking carefully through the splinters of mirror he knew whenever he failed because the pain burned him. Welts and blisters rose up, but thankfully no more glass made its way into his flesh. Not sure what to do with his old clothes, or his medallion, he did his best to work around his claws and bundle the silver without touching it. His medallion. His mark, who he was. He had no pockets, no pack, nothing.

Pawing through the mage’s things, he did manage to find a satchel with a long strap which he tucked the medallion in, the leather barely touch enough to withstand his claws as he shoved it in. It took some doing but he also managed to get the strap over his shoulder without destroying it or the bag. He couldn’t leave yet, and his body still ached.

There was no food to take, nothing to do but wait. So he crouched down in a corner away from the debris, running a claw over the shaggy rough hair sprouting from his scalp. His sensitive fingers had been covered in thick callous that made it hard to feel, but he could still tell his hair was no longer the fine silky texture his partners had loved. Ciri had loved it, too. His hair was smoother than hers, no curl, and so she had loved brushing it out. She had often put it into braids. Now, the rough strands would be not only unpleasant to touch but near impossible to groom. It was going to mat so easily, he knew.

“Your hair is so soft,” Ciri marveled, running fingers through it as he sat with her by the fire. They had spread out a few blankets and pillows on the hearthstones to wait out the storm. While she wasn’t afraid of the weather, after the Wild Hunt had near taken her, she was a little jumpier about the noise. He didn’t fault her.

He closed the book in his lap, leaving his index finger between the pages to mark their spot. He had chosen a bestiary at her request and was teaching her more of what she would know to be a witcher. Initially, he had wanted to read history or philosophy or something else, anything else. But it was what she had asked him for.

She gently combed out his hair again, having used a little bit of unscented oil to make the strands gleam. Since she had decided to take an interest in grooming him like a beloved feist his hair always shone in the light. It was always neatly brushed. He looked healthier. Of course, taking her into his life he had had to start taking better care of himself simply because he was taking care of her. If she needed food, he found food rather than go hungry. If she felt filthy, he found a place for them to bathe. It was just what he did now.

While he was well able to keep himself clean and his hair free of tangles without assistance, they both found the routine soothing. So many ugly things happened around them day in and day out that it was nice to end the day by the fire together, doing something peaceful. Not to mention both Yennefer and Dandelion had commented on the change in texture of his hair, enjoying the silkiness Ciri’s ministrations had brought out.

He fell asleep somehow, curled into the corner. The stones on his skin were cold enough to leech away some of his body heat and leave him to wake shivering and miserable. So much for the new layer of fur keeping him warm or being useful in any way.

The sky was dark, and most of the village around the tower asleep. Humiliated by his nakedness, he knew he didn’t have a choice about it, or about having to leave. If the mage sent someone back to clear him out, or alert the villagers, he would be killed in a small space unless he was willing to let his actions match his appearance. Perhaps he should just let them kill him.

But he had hope, small hope, that Yennefer would somehow find his message. Would somehow find him and save him. She loved him, didn’t she? So did Dandelion. One of them should work, or perhaps she could just reverse the spell without anything. In case her love wasn’t even… he loved them both so much. Surely, surely one of them could break it. Would it take a kiss? Just some blood? He tried to remember how Nivellen’s curse had been broken with the bruxa, but he didn’t want to have to kill one of his lovers. He wouldn’t. He would kill himself first if that was the only solution.

The doorknob was difficult to grip and slippery against his skin and he barely managed to get it open. Only the terror of acting like the beast he was kept him from smashing through it. He was bigger, and bulkier, and going through the doorway and down the twisting steps made him aware of how much he had changed. It was difficult to navigate where before he would have run quickly.

He paused at the bottom, smelling food. A bit old, perhaps, but not turned. He listened for a while, didn’t smell any signs of human life or hear anything, and the thought of food made his mouth water. Ropes of drool slid over his chin and hung down and he shut his eyes. Nothing he did would take away the feeling. Ashamed, he almost didn’t open the door to the kitchen. He should perhaps just starve to death. But, never seeing Ciri again, never seeing Yennefer or Dandelion… not if there was a chance he could be saved… even if he didn’t deserve it…

Tthe hunger pressed on him and he pushed through the door and raided the stores of food he found. The vegetables were hard to chew, since all of his teeth had apparently been replaced with fangs leaving him with very little molar. He ended up gulping down chunks of carrot and potato raw. The meat he found was dried, and even more difficult to manage. His claws allowed him to tear it easily enough and he swallowed strips whole. He ate until his stomach ached and bulged, knowing he had no way to carry any of it with him.

While he was sure he could hunt, and while he could process raw meat if forced, he had no taste for it. Perhaps his new monster’s body and tongue would. Ripping into raw flesh and still beating hearts… that had always been his destiny hadn’t it? Shunned by society living like an animal? Looking around for anything that might help him, anything that might keep him human, there was nothing.

At the door to the tower he listened, and when he heard no one moving around he ran.

**

“Madam Yennefer, a message for you.”

“Odd, a letter coming from my banker.”

“It’s an odd situation, if you don’t mind me saying,” the dwarf twisted his hands.

“Please, explain.” She took the missive in her hand, looking at the odd parchment. When she opened it, it bore five words written in blood. The implement used to write had scratched the fibers of the page, making it hard to read and the blood had trailed along the disrupted grooves. It was hardly legible, but she know how Geralt made his runes. Even if he was clearly badly injured and writing her in blood. Although the marks were like no quill she had ever seen. It was too thick, and far too coarse. Disturbed, she looked up at the dwarf.

“Well. There was a contract for your witcher, and he took it. Went up to meet a sorcerer who said they had information and would also pay for parts of the beast. I don’t know all the details, mind. But Geralt went in, and he never came out. One of my fellows heard that he hadn’t come to pay his inn bill, or the fee for keeping his horse stabled. I had someone go take care of it. The horse is on her way to your home in Vengerberg, where she and his bags will be safe. I also had the money owed settled.”

“And you’ll have it taken from my accounts?”

“I was simply waiting on approval.”

“That’s neatly done then. I’ll need to withdraw some coin, then. To take with me. If you hear anything of Geralt, have it passed along to me as quickly as possible. Here, I’ll leave a kestrel, send it with any news.”

“Done.”

“Giancardi?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

**

He tried to keep track of the days, scratching a mark into the bark of a tree. But after the first week time became meaningless. He knew it might take a full month before Yennefer got his note, assuming she ever did. He had told her the contact might take him weeks. She wouldn’t think to check for ages yet. He was on his own for much longer.

He had dug up various roots he had found, keeping himself alive as best he could, and much to his disgust he had managed to fell a deer and the carcass had fed him for days. Geralt was doing his best to behave as a human might. He tried to keep himself clean. Bathing in the cold stream was even worse with the added fur to soak in and hold the icy water against his skin.

A bear had chased him out of the first cave he found, and then a pack of wolves another. Finally, he had given in and dug himself a sort of shelter, doing his best to create more space by breaking branches and aligning them to create a sort of roof and wall. With his hands thick and unwieldy he could barely manage. Using vines to tie anything was out of the question. The crude lean-to kept the worst of the wind and damp away but he would have given anything for a fire.

When hunters came through and found his shelter, they almost found him. He hadn’t remembered to hide his tracks and they chased him for days. He could endure more, suffer more, but some part of him hoped they would catch him. Kill him and make all of this end.

The longer he was alone in the wild, the more terrifying he became. He caught glimpses of himself in the streams and rivers and puddles… his appearance continued to change and his body never stopped aching.

 **

“Ciri, pack your things. I’ve found a place to hide you and I’ll need you to stay there.”

“Yennefer, I’m hardly in need of that kind of care anymore. I’m capable in my own right.”

“Geralt would never forgive me.”

“If he was taken as part of a contract, I’m your best bet at luring out whoever it was. If they want a witcher, let’s give them a witcher.”

“I don’t intend to use you as bait.”

“Please, Mamma, please. Don’t make me wait here twiddling my thumbs when I’m just as good with a sword as he is. Let me help.”

“One promise or I will use magic to keep you here.”

“What is it?”

“You obey. Something both you and Geralt are terrible at. But this time, you do as I tell you. Or I will send you through a portal to somewhere only I can find you and take you back out.”

“I promise.”

**

When his knees had reversed to match those of the predators whose forest he shared, the agony was so bad he couldn’t move for days. He laid there in the dirt and leaves, bugs crawling over him and didn’t move, and wished for death.

He fought and killed the giant cat that wanted his territory, and the pelt that grew over his body kept him far warmer than his clothes ever had. This time, he had chosen a place far from humans and higher in the mountains where not many bothered to travel to. Hunting was scarce but he had found a cave that was his and had dragged plenty of dried leaves in it to act as a bed. There was a hollow in the back that collected rain that dripped from a crack in the roof and it kept him from having to leave for fresh water too often.

He had no idea how many days had passed. Time had no meaning for an animal. He woke, he hunted, sometimes he ate, and then he slept.

**

“There’s some sort of silvery-haired werewolf living in our woods, you know, Master Dandelion.”

“Oh pish, I know what werewolves look like. The things your villagers have been saying are lies. Some sort of primal man-ape creature living in the woods.”

“We chased him out,” a man interjected. “We caught sight of him and chased him out. Silver haired and yellow eyed, monstrous. Huge claws, sharp teeth, found his dwelling and razed it so he’d never return. Thought about calling ourselves a witcher but we handled it just fine on our own, we did.”

“Silver hair and yellow eyes?”

“Fangs as big as my arm, ‘e jus’ ran though,” another man called out, this one older and missing some teeth. “Big cowar’ly cretchur,” he explained.

Dandelion looked around the tavern. He had planned to meet Geralt a few days ride from here and they had intended to travel together back to Vengerberg to meet with Yennefer and Ciri. Only Geralt hadn’t been in the area that anyone knew of. Not recently. He had come a month or more ago, had met with the sorcerer and disappeared. All heads were nodding in agreement and he felt a moment of concern.

“What tower did you say the sorcerer lived in?”

“Look outside, Master Poet, and see for yourself.”

He finished his beer, gathered up his things, and did exactly that. Gathering up the reins of his horse, he unhitched Pegasus from the post and mounted up, kicking the fat grey gelding into a slow trot.

When he reached the tower he found the door slightly ajar. Fear mounting in his chest he fairly ran up the steps, and was horrified to find blood all over the floor of the tower, shattered glass all over, and … Geralt’s clothes, shredded to pieces. There was no sign of him. The bard looked over the tower, seeing torn paper, broken quills, a shredded cloak, and Geralt’s things. His sword belt had snapped, and he had left his swords. Or was eaten, Dandelion supposed, tears welling up in his eyes and streaming down his cheeks.

Further inspection revealed silvery-white fur littering the room and the heaviest coating was reserved for a bloody corner. “Did it kill you Geralt?” Dandelion asked the swords softly. As if there would be answers there. He lifted them up and gathered up whatever he could of Geralt’s clothes and boots. Some spells required the essence of a person.

He needed to contact Yennefer. And perhaps, with what he’d found, she could do something to track Geralt, or the monster that killed him.

He quickly used the parchment and half a quill to pen a letter, noticing the untouched inkwell. Then he folded it, sealed it after relighting a candle and ran down the steps again, Geralt’s swords crushed to his chest. Dandelion quickly found the messenger service in the town and paid the fee to have his letter sent to Yennefer.

**

Geralt barely knew himself anymore. He knew he was waiting for something. He knew the pouch on his body meant something, but his paws wouldn’t allow him to open it. He couldn’t get it off over his head, it was stuck in matted fur and dried blood. Eventually it snagged on something, choking him and he tore it free, not caring that the strap shredded. He gathered it up in his teeth, the sharp fangs snagging on the leather and brought it back to his cave and left it there among the leaves he used as a bed.

Whatever it was, he couldn’t get to it.

**

“Yennefer!”

“Dandelion!” They hugged briefly. Their affections for each other were largely glued together by Geralt. While they were fond of each other, he was what brought them together.

“I found his things, or what was left of them, I see you got my letter?”

“I got this from him, too, about a day or two before your letter found me.”

“Is… is that blood?”

“It is, his, I think. You’ve been staying in the area?”

“I got the locals to show me the direction they had chased the supposed monster in. I found signs of the habitation, I don’t know… if it’s the thing that killed Geralt, or something he was trying to kill, or what happened to him.”

“I stopped by the tower on the way here, all the blood was his. It called out to the blood on the paper. You’d best show me around the area the monster was in, if it killed him his blood will sing out wherever it was left.”

“And if it didn’t? How will we find him?”

“If he’s injured by it, or kept tracking it, it’ll lead us to wherever his blood was last spilled. We’ll find him. If we can.”

“Ciri?”

“With the horses, waiting. She promised to obey me in all things or I would portal her into a dungeon on a mountain where no one could get to her. At least not without a portal. I’ve promised her that she will help us track down the beast. Or mage. Geralt wrote ‘cursed.’ I don’t… I don’t know what to think. Was he cursed and killed by the monster? Was he cursed… in another way? Was all that fur in the tower his?” her voice shook.

“I don’t know,” the poet said grimly. “I don’t know. But if he’s alive we’ll find him. In whatever condition, and we’ll break the curse, and we’ll take him with us and we’ll put him to rights. It’s what he’d do for us, and what we’ve done for him before, and we’ll do it again. As often as it takes.”

“I miss him, Dandelion. I hadn’t expected to see him for another few weeks, our plan was to meet later, as you well know. But I miss him and it terrifies me there’s no sign of him. I’ll get Ciri, and you can show me the woods.”

**

The monster pawed loosely at the leather in his bed. The hard object inside had hurt him when he’d slept on it, digging into the flesh of his side. Arrows had broken off in his body after an attack he hardly remembered, and whatever it was in his bed had pressed into it, making it hurt worse. He pawed feebly at the wounds, knowing they were infected, but his clawed paws couldn’t pull out the arrowhead. He had scratched himself raw and bloody, creating a further mess in his side. His body didn’t bend to allow him to lick it clean or care for it, he moved half upright and half on all fours, but he hadn’t gone to hunt in a few days.

Food had passed by his cave, but he had stayed, trying to regain his strength and heal. Some part of him remembered cool hands touching him, easing the pains and hurts in his body. Something had cramped his gut and made him ill and he had fallen a long ways, and those hands had nursed him back to health. But it made no sense, his only clear memories of humans were violent and painful. If they saw him, they chased him screaming and firing arrows and waving swords.

They were right to fear him, his slavering jaws and cruel claws were to be hated and feared.

Continued attempts to discover the source of his discomfort in the leather pouch allowed him to open it, claws tearing and shredding, and a round metal object fell out, skittering across the cave floor to land near his water supply.

When he reached out to touch it, nudging it with his muzzle, he roared in pain, feeling his face burn and welts raise up on his sensitive nose. Whimpering and howling, he leaves it alone, afraid to touch it again and curls back on his uninjured side in the leaves.

**

“He bled heavily here, look. Someone shot arrows into him,” Ciri lifted up the fletched half of an arrow. “Broke off, or he broke it off and pulled it through. Don’t see the other half anywhere, though. He was alive when he left here.”

“The question is, was he chasing the beast that the townsfolk were, or is he the beast?”

“Yennefer, don’t say that. Witchers aren’t that strange.”

“Dandelion, he said he was cursed. His blood is all over. He’s still alive, as far as we know, but there’s been no sign of him. The footprints we found are far too large to belong to a normal man, with evidence of clawed feet. So if this is Geralt’s blood, where are his footprints?”

“Yennefer, look, by the shelter, there’s notches in the tree. Keeping track of time. If it was Geralt, he was here a little over a week. Hunting, or waiting for help.”

“Then we press on.”

**

The monster went out hunting, the pain in its side making it gasp and wheeze with each breath. But it had to eat. Food was survival. It got lucky and stumbled across an injured rabbit. The creature hardly lasted a second once the monster had it, ripping it open with stubby claws and sharp teeth. It wasn’t enough, but the rabbit would keep it alive a bit longer.

A little stronger from the meal, it snuffled around, bloody drool hanging off its jaw as it rooted around for tubers in the dirt, digging them out with its paws and eating them straight from the ground. Some part of it knew things weren’t right, but it assumed it was the festering open sores in its side, and not the meal.

After it had dug up what it could, it moved on, looking for something else to eat.

**

“Look, bones.” Ciri kicked over a bundle of them, chunks of fur still clinging in some places.

“He’s out here somewhere,” Yennefer says slowly, hands held out, the letter tucked into her belt. She had opted to wear men’s clothing and a cap over her hair to make travel easier. The woods were not easy to traverse in her usual gowns. “More of his blood here than anywhere we’ve been other than the tower.”

“Something with white hair rubbed up against a tree here, and it’s soaked in blood,” Dandelion calls softly. He looks around the woods, feeling lost. The sun is high in the sky, they weren’t sleeping much. They rested once it was too dark to make the horses go on, and pressed on the minute the sky turned grey with predawn light. He touched the scratched bark and noted the blood was old. There were signs of a creature living in the area, something large. The fur and blood was around shoulder height. “It’s large, whatever it is. Do we think he’s hunting it and got hurt, or do we think he is it?”

“I don’t know,” Yennefer rubbed at her temples. “He would have left us a trail sign, if he was able. I can’t help but think perhaps it is him. But I haven’t seen any time markers, or evidence of him hiding his tracks, but I never saw him doing that before either. But the ‘beast’ the villagers chased, when we looked around that area… it was sentient. Smart enough to brush away tracks, and build a shelter. There’s none of this here. I don’t know, Dandelion. I don’t know. I won’t know until we find one of them. Or if it’s both in one, him.”

“I found some evidence of marking, look, just like a bear does.”

“Good, Ciri, any blood?”

“Some, the blood doesn’t look healthy. Infection. Geralt’s injured.” There was plenty of it splattering the leaves around the tree marked with deep gouges. She found bits of broken claw just like she might have a cat would leave on a rug. Lifting up a chipped piece, the marks had to have been caused by a claw longer than her fingers.

The monster pricked up its ears when it heard voices. It hadn’t heard humans in ages. It swiveled its ears and prepared to run. The injury in its side was exhausting it, and it gathered itself slowly. It would wait until they were too close to avoid, but it hoped they would go and it could stay. It would hate to give up its warm cave and safe watering hole.

It didn’t understand the speech, or the words they were calling out. It just knew the cry was sad, and lonely, and it lay there in the detritus, knowing somewhere in its monster’s heart, the cry hurt.

“Geralt! Geralt are you out there? Geralt! We’ve come to find you, please call out if you can hear me us!” Dandelion shouted at the top of his voice. He was able to be far louder than either Ciri or Yennefer.

Ciri continued to look for tracks, and finally realized she was seeing them. Five deep even punctures, long claws that couldn’t be retracted. It would be painful to walk on anything but loose dirt, where the claws would provide traction. She followed them to a cave and to her shock saw something glinting in the back.

Drawing her sword, she cautiously swept forward. “I see something!” she called back behind her, hoping that she was about to find one of Geralt’s daggers, or something that would indicate he was alive and well.

The leaves littering the cave floor were covered in white hair and blood and reeked of infection. The creature was sick. Badly injured. Or… Geralt was badly injured. She carefully sifted through the leaves and came across a torn leather pouch. It wasn’t Geralt’s, but it meant a human had been here. The pouch was shredded and the strap broken. In the mess of the pouch she found scraps of black cloth. “Geralt.” She sheathed her sword and stepped closer to the small pool of water and almost fainted in a mix of relief and horror when she saw his medallion lying there on the ground. “Yennefer! Dandelion!” Her voice was not as loud as the bard’s, but she could still scream.

The monster’s ears twitched. The humans had invaded its home. A low growl rumbled through it and it snuffled miserably. It was in no shape to fight them out. Its home was lost, again. But it was sick of being forced out of its home by other animals, and it had found a good spot and it didn’t want to leave. Aching and pained, it heard the continued howling and babbling of the humans and dragged itself up, prowling around the edges of the clearing around its cave. It didn’t want to be seen early, but humans were weak prey, perhaps it could scare them off or win the fight. If they didn’t have the things that would stick in him and hurt him so badly.

“His medallion, look!” Ciri held it up with trembling hands.

“Oh, he never takes that off, not ever,” Dandelion moans softly. “Oh, the thing ate him! It isn’t him, he was here hunting it, and he got eaten!”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Yennefer snapped. “It isn’t bloodied. It was kept in a bag wrapped in the scraps of his shirt, look.” She lifted up the black fabric scraps and the remains of the leather satchel. “This cave is filled with his blood all over the leaves,” she lifted up a few. “He’s been camping here.”

Ciri edged towards the front of the cave and froze. “Yennefer,” her voice was tight.

A smallish human, female. Another small human female, and a small male. Nothing that should be too troubling. It didn’t see any of the sharp implements that hurt it so much earlier.

“What?”

“Come here, please, look, do you see it, too?”

“See what?” the sorceress snapped impatiently, holding her hands out to try and sense more blood. There was more, something near the cave mouth. She got up and went over to Ciri and peered out over her shoulder, hands held up in front of her. “I….” she croaked. “I see… Geralt? Geralt is that you? Step into the light, come here, I can’t undo the curse if you won’t come over….”

The beast in the woods growled at her and slunk forward, teeth bared. Saliva ran over its jaws in thick ropey strands. White fur covered its body and it walked with an odd mix of all legs and just the back two, giving it an odd lolling gate.

“He’s injured… its? Mamma… is… is that Geralt?”

“Dandelion, get out of the cave, we’ll corner him in there. Or it. We’ll find out in a moment but be out of the way. Ciri, can you circle back behind it, keep it from running?”

“His eyes…. That’s… that’s got to be him….” her voice came out as a hoarse whisper. But she gathered herself. “Yes, I’ll flank him, he’s hurt badly.”

Dandelion stepped out of the cave and swore. The creature in front of him flinched and growled, peeling its lips back from bloody pink gums to bare sharp white fangs. “Geralt?” his voice came out as a whimper. “Oh, Geralt. Fuck. Yennefer it’s Geralt.”

The monster wasn’t sure what the noises meant, but they still sounded sad. A wolf with no pack. It rested a front paw on the ground, leaning heavily. Its breaths came out short and sharp, side aching. It flared its nostrils wide, taking in their scent. One smelled like ice and something else it didn’t understand. The other smelled like flowers in the meadow, and the smallest of them smelled like the sea and something it couldn’t place. Something familiar. They all smelled familiar but the monster didn’t know humans. It had always been this way, always alone, and always terrifying to behold.

When the dark haired one lifted its hands he flinched and snarled, gnashing his teeth at her. He could remember curls on his fingers. Other than he’d never had fingers. The other one, the one breathing hard and whimpering made noise. Beautiful noise with his hands and mouth. But the small one, the small one was his. He rushed the first one, he would chase them out and the odd feelings would stop. So would the odd images in his head.

Yennefer stepped aside when he charged, she had seen the muscles in his body tense. Dandelion was right, she could feel the magic, the curse was active and changing constantly. When his first charge didn’t work, he tried to circle back but Ciri had closed in on him and shouted, waving her arms widely behind him and Dandelion joined her, cutting off his other avenue of escape. Between the three of them blocking his way he roared in frustration and then ran into the cave, trying to defend the entryway.

Ciri brought out his medallion, holding it out to him, and he backed away, whimpering from them, the silver burned. The monster remembered the silver burned. It wanted nothing to do with them. When he made to charge them again the small one drew a blade and slapped at him with the flat of it.

He cowered low, confused, and terrified, pain glazing his eyes. It was so hard to breathe and all the exertion the humans were causing was making it even harder to get enough air. He hadn’t been eating well, barely able to hunt, and while he had done his best to pull the arrowheads from his side or to rub them against a tree and force them out, he couldn’t. The infection kept his skin hot and rotted the fur around the wound.

“Geralt, it’s me,” Ciri told him quietly.

Geralt meant nothing to him. Neither did the sounds. But the voice was kind, and he hoped that perhaps they would simply kill him quickly.

Yennefer pressed in on his other side, “this is badly infected, and has been. If he was gone at least a month before we started looking, and it’s taken us at least another one to find him… they shot at him near two months ago, it’s a miracle he’s alive.”

Fear and pain dropped him to his side, and he whimpered once, letting his head drop to the leaves, feeling them tickle against his muzzle. Drool slowly began to cover the ground under his head and he waited for them to kill him.

“Let me see, Geralt, let me see it, I can help,” she said in her best attempt at a soothing voice. “Ciri, I don’t think he’s lost all the fight in him yet. Help me. Dandelion? Get our packs, we’ll need them. Also, firewood.”

Yennefer jumped back just in time as he lunged and snapped at her, and he would have taken off her arm if she hadn’t been waiting for him to attack her.

Dandelion came back in to see Geralt lying on his side, wheezing, tongue lolling with his eyes rolling in panic in his head. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing, he tried to attack me and he keeled over,” Yennefer said brusquely.

“Yen, he’s starving,” Ciri said softly. She tried approaching him, hands out, and he lifted his muzzle and snapped at her, growling savagely.

“There’s food in the packs, Dandelion, get out all of it.”

“Will that work?” he asked quietly, dropping the packs to the ground immediately and starting to dig out their travel rations. They had dried meat, hardtack, hard cheese, and they had stopped by a small settlement at the edge of the woods and had some root vegetables and a large loaf of slightly stale bread. They had eaten the other loaves already.

Ciri wasn’t listening, she grabbed up the cheese, meat, and bread, watching Geralt as his nostrils flared and pupils dilated slightly at the sight of food. He licked his chops and continued to pant, lying there and staring at the food. He watched her, watched her hands, and when she lightly tossed a bit of meat he opened his jaws and snapped it up, gulping it down before it could be taken.

He startled when he looked at her next and she was closer, the fur rising up along his back and shoulders and he growled again, a low warning growl. Then the small one held up another piece of meat and lightly tossed it to him, and he snapped that up, as well. There wasn’t enough to fill his belly, not by a long shot, but the girl had more. The blonde girl. The one who smelled familiar. She threw him another piece and then stepped closer. He kept his hackles up, teeth bared after he ate the next piece.

Before he knew it, she was within biting distance, and held up a piece of cheese. He couldn’t recall the taste of it, but the sight and smell made him drool.

“Ciri, be careful,” Yennefer whispered, worried. “Dandelion, get us firewood, and we’ll try and set some snares, he needs to eat more. Although if we could shrink him back down to his usual size, we won’t need as much food… the… the little settlement, they were… a few hours out? Can you make it there for more food and back? Take my palfrey to carry the food, and ride Roach down, don’t take Pegasus. I know you don’t want to leave him, but I can create a spell to keep him from leaving the cave… and it won’t stick if I’m not here to hold it. Can you go?”

“Already leaving, but firewood first?”

“Please,” she said, watching those yellow eyes in the dim light of the cave. They had an odd sheen and she imagined if he’d been human, he would have burned with fever. She could smell the rot in his side. He was near the size of a horse, and she wasn’t sure how much it would take to feed him, but she could feel the edges of the curse, but not the conditions.

The bard stepped out quickly, rushing about to gather up wood. The sooner he left the sooner he could come back. And perhaps they would have made some progress with Geralt in his absence. They had healing supplies with them, they had anticipated he would be hurt. Just, not like this. They had never anticipated this.

Ciri got a little closer, holding out the rest of the cheese. He tipped his head up and his tongue flicked out to grab it, and he swallowed the chunk whole. She was close enough to rest a hand on his muzzle, but she didn’t. She could see the way he kept trying to watch both her and Yennefer, fear making his rib cage flutter as he fought to breathe. “Oh, Geralt,” she said softly. “We’re here now, we’ll fix it.” She tore the loaf of bread into chunks and sat, letting the pieces rest in her lap. She held out another one and he took it from her.

After the last chunk was devoured, she slowly reached out to touch his muzzle. “This isn’t right you know,” she told him quietly, watching as Yennefer held her hands out, brow furrowed in concentration. He flinched away from her, but she ignored it, gently stroking the damp white fur.

The noises she made almost made sense, like a forgotten memory. The food in his belly wasn’t enough, but it was different than the raw meat and whatever he could dig up and scarf down.

“Mamma, please bring me the rest of the food,” she said quietly, idly stroking the fur between his eyes. “He’s still hungry.” Ciri watched some of the fight go out of his body, paws curling as he lay there. His ears swiveled around tracking Yennefer as she moved around the cave. The panting got worse as Yennefer moved, but eased when she was back in his line of sight.

“I can’t imagine he’ll enjoy hardtack.”

“No one enjoys it, that isn’t the point,” Ciri sniffed, and then carefully fed Geralt the rest of their food supplies. He was exhausted, she could tell. He reminded her of her grandfather’s hounds after too long of a hunt. Too tired to rest. She kept up the gently stroking and leaned forward to touch his leathery ears. They were soft and warm, and his eyes closed when she started gently stroking them. Yennefer moved again, shoes scraping on the floor and his eyes opened, and he snarled again, wheezing after. “It’s alright, you’re alright,” Ciri promised him, scratching the top of his muzzle and then the rough hair of his cheeks before moving under his chin. The fur was soaked in spittle but she didn’t mind. It was Geralt. The yellow eyes closed in pleasure and she kept it up as his body slowly relaxed and eased.

Yennefer put her hands over his wound, and he opened one eye to stare, dragging his lip back over his teeth to show her their sharpness.

“Geralt, it’s alright,” Ciri said softly, and the words almost had meaning. His ears flicked forward to her and she smiled at him. “Do you want me to keep talking to you?”

Yennefer watched carefully, and then gently laid her hands on his side, feeling the heat and swelling radiating from the wound. The initial injury had to be somewhere in the middle of his ribs, but it had radiated from shoulder to flank and her heart dropped. He was very ill. Dangerously ill. Half starved, he didn’t have what he needed to fight off the infection that was killing him.

His skin twitched and rippled under her palms, and she felt tears slide over her cheeks. They could save him, it would be even easier to do it if they could turn him back. “True love often breaks curses,” she tells Ciri quietly. “Can you keep him calm while I come around to his head?”

“You plan to kiss him on the mouth?”

“No, the forehead,” Yennefer told her dryly.

Ciri stuck out her tongue impudently and continued to let her hands smooth the thick white fur under her palms. “I imagine you’re exhausted. You’ve been running a while, and you’re hurting badly. I’m sorry Geralt. I’m sorry we didn’t find you sooner. You can understand me, can’t you? I want you to understand me.”

Yennefer knelt down at his head and gently started stroking his fur. “I love you,” she told him gently. “Even when we’re fighting, or I’m angry, I always love you. I always will. We always love each other.” She leaned over him and ignored the way his lips peeled back from his gums and kissed him gently on the top of his head, feeling the coarse fur brush her lips. She pulled away, tears dripping down her cheeks to soak into his fur. “Oh Geralt, what kind of curse weas this? Can you talk to me? Can you understand us?” There was a catch in her voice and she hated it.

Both she and Ciri waited with bated breath, and Ciri sighed when nothing happened. Tears ran down her cheeks when she realized Geralt wasn’t miraculously changing back. They sat with him, stroking and comforting him until it started to get cool.

Yennefer gathered up leaves and the firewood and started a fire. Geralt had started to tremble and she knew he was going to need help staying warm. The fur didn’t seem to be doing him much good. Not with the illness such as it was. It was obvious he had tried to get the arrowheads out, but she could see part of the shaft of one still sticking out. He had probably driven them deeper in, dangerously close to his lungs.

She planned to wait until Dandelion got back before she attempted to pull the arrows out and start any of the healing process. They would need to boil water and prepare bandages and two sets of hands wouldn’t be enough.

Ciri kept up a steady stream of chatter, and Yennefer gasped in surprise when Geralt nodded his head to something she said. Ciri looked up at her in shock, and then kept talking, her words speeding up with an almost frantic edge. He didn’t seem to know what she wanted from him when she tried asking him questions.

“Let him rest, Ciri, let him sleep, he’s exhausted.”

They kept vigil together, hands gently smoothing the matted white fur on his head and chest. Dandelion came back before full dark, laden with bags of food and more bandaging.

Geralt woke up at the sound and with raised hackles, snarling and growling, he staggered up on all fours, backing himself into the wall of the cave.

“Stop!” Ciri said quietly, holding her hands up. “Geralt, it’s me, you know me, it’s Ciri. I’m your destiny. Geralt, do you remember? I’m your destiny. Tell me, nod, something, but tell me you understand. Do it!”

“Ciri,” Yennefer said softly, putting a hand on her shoulder, not expecting Geralt to respond. But instead he whined low in his throat and ducked his head, ears flattening and tail curling up between his legs. He bobbed his head lightly and stepped closer to her, snuffling her shirt and allowing her to pet him and scratch him around his neck and under his chin.

“He understands,” Dandelion said softly, voice awed.

“Feed him,” Yennefer told him immediately. “We need to feed him,” she added. Perhaps the bard was his true love, perhaps the bard would break the spell.

Dandelion pulled a roast chicken he’d purchased specifically for Geralt. He unwrapped it from the linen it had been wrapped in. Carefully, he edged in until he could hand Geralt the food. Dandelion jumped when Geralt carefully took it from him, mindful not to bite his hands. “Oh sweet Melitele, is that really him? Is that really you? Oh, Geralt. You’re so large, how can we possibly keep you full?”  He bravely put out a hand and let Geralt snuffle his palm, smiling when he received a lick for his troubles. “I love you so much,” he smiled. It was easy to step in closer and he wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck, kissing his cheek.

“Fuck,” Yennefer said softly, she had hoped. She had hoped so much that if it wasn’t her it would be Dandelion. They could worry about the curse once they cleaned out his wounds, at least. She would figure out how to undo it, since true love wasn’t going to do it, or he hadn’t met his yet.

“What?”

“I had hoped that would break the spell.”

“Geralt,” Ciri smiled. “Come lie down, let us see your side, it hurts right?”

Dropping his head, he let the words wash over him. He could mostly understand now. ‘Geralt’ still didn’t mean anything to him, but ‘hurt’ was a word he knew. He laid down where he was, unwilling to get too close to the flames.

“You’re so big,” Ciri mumbled, smoothing hands over his skull. “I wish you were smaller, like you were. Do you remember? Geralt? Do you remember being human?” she asked gently. “You were a good size, the proper size for a witcher. The perfect height for hugging,” she added.

“Ciri, whatever you do, keep talking, don’t stop,” Yennefer told her quietly. “Don’t stop.”

“When I was younger I barely came up to your waist, and you put me up on your shoulders in Broklin, do you remember? You called me a brat and threatened to belt me if I wouldn’t behave. Your shoulders are a little broader than Dandelion’s, do you remember? But strong. You’re so strong. And we can take care of you better if you were back to your usual size.” She felt his head start to shrink under her hands, and her breath caught in her throat only for tears to pour over her cheeks when she saw he wasn’t changing, just shrinking some. When he finished, he still looked the same, he was still covered in fur, and still barely resembled a human in the loosest sense possible.

“That’s better,” Yennefer told her.

“How do we change him back?”

“I don’t know, Ciri, but first we have to make sure he doesn’t die.”

It took them half the night to cut away the putrid flesh to allow Yennefer to pull the arrowheads out of the festering wounds they’d created. Geralt had snarled, snapped, and made pitiful attempts to attack them the pain was so bad. It was clearly he didn’t quite know them and didn’t understand all the words they said to him. When they tried to return his medallion, he whined and whimpered, drawing back with his hackles up and tail between his legs.

They stayed with him a week in the cave before they gained any more ground. Keeping the wounds clean and clear of infection had been near impossible, and he had gotten sicker and sicker with each day that passed. It was terrifying, wondering if they would lose him without him ever knowing who they were or who he was. They would have tried his elixirs but since he was nothing like himself, they didn’t know how they would react with his body chemistry and they might kill him immediately.

Dandelion made routine trips down the mountain and back to bring up more food and supplies. They kept Geralt fed, and as comfortable as they could. The next bit of progress was made when he curled up between his lovers’ bedrolls. After that, he started to respond to his name, and would nod or shake his head.

Yennefer made little to no progress on the curse other than to say it was still active and adapting and she wasn’t sure how to break it yet, it was too flexible. Geralt was also still incredibly weak and sick, and prone to pacing until he was panting too hard to breathe and would simply lay on the cave floor, wheezing until he fell asleep again. They were all miserable.

Ciri woke up, unsurprised to feel Geralt’s bulk pressed against her back. She rolled over and wrapped an arm around his neck. “You were human like us, you know,” she told him softly. She tickled his ear, watching it twitch away from her touch. “You had ears like mine. And hands I could hold. Hands that could hold me. I miss that. You weren’t covered in fur either. I used to brush your hair, do you remember? I would brush it and oil it and keep it clean. You won’t let us bathe you,” she wrinkled her nose. “Even though you need it. You make a very smelly whatever you are. I think if you had less fur it would help.” When she reached up to tease his ear again, it wasn’t there, and she sat up to look and saw a human ear nestled in all the fur, hairless and pale, just like it had been before.

When Yennefer and Dandelion woke next, they immediately noticed the change and monitored him for others, but saw nothing other than perhaps less fur, but they couldn’t be sure. He was docile at almost all times, even when having his wounds poked at.

“Geralt,” Ciri started one night, tickling the pads of his paws, pushing her fingertips against the blunt claws at the ends. “Do you ever miss holding hands? I think I would. I miss training with you, so even if you don’t miss holding hands, do you think you miss holding a sword?”

She gasped when the claws against her fingertips melted away and the pads of his paws followed after, fingers elongating as his hands became human. He flexed them in wonder, he couldn’t recall what he had looked like or felt like before. He barely knew himself, but hands made it far easier to eat. Exhausted, he fell asleep and didn’t wake until the next morning.

When he felt tapping against his teeth he woke up and tried not to snarl. It was just Ciri.

“These are ridiculously large, you know, they don’t even fit in your mouth, Geralt. What kind of idiot mage cursed you with these? It makes no sense, you can’t close your mouth, you drool all over your fur… you’re very messy.” She opened her mouth and pointed, “These are what your teeth should look like,” she informed him. “Your whole head should look more like mine,” she added. “I don’t see what the fur adds, either, if I’m being honest.”

She wasn’t surprised this time when magic crackled and swirled around him as his teeth and jaw shrank, his muzzle flattening into his skull to form an almost human jawline.

More days passed and none of her suggestions took. His memory seemed to be coming back and while he couldn’t speak, he could write, fingers in the dirt. They communicated well enough, until one day he just stopped.

When they went to bed he was there, and when they woke up, he was gone.

They split up to find him, he had remembered to hide his tracks. Ciri found him some time well after midnight.

“Geralt? Don’t run, please don’t go.”

“Ciri,” his voice grated from his throat. “Go, just go. Please…”

“Why?”

He had pressed himself against a hollow log, seeking some small shelter from the cold. No fire, nothing. No clothes. He still mostly moved hunched over, rather than upright. He was so ashamed. “I don’t want you to see me like this,” his voice broke.

“I love you,” she said simply. “How you look doesn’t matter.”

“I’m a monster,” his voice broke. He could remember now, all of it. How he had failed them. “The curse didn’t change me, it revealed me,” he told her hoarsely. “The curse was to show my true self,” he whispered, bloody tears trailing over his cheeks. “Go away, Ciri,” he told her more firmly, baring his teeth and lunging at her.

She didn’t move. “No. No, I will not. You can’t make me. You told me once you would always be there for me. We would never be apart. You haven’t done the best of jobs keeping that promise. I’m going to hold you to it, now.”

“Please,” he moaned. “Ciri, you don’t deserve the horror of having someone like me in your life.”

“Horror? The horror?” She slapped him before she could stop herself. “You idiot!” He didn’t make a move to stop her, or to cower away from another strike when she raised her hand again and she stared in shock at what she’d done. “I’m sorry!” She threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly and sobbing. “I love you, Geralt, I love you, there’s nothing horrible about you!”

He hesitated before holding her, thinking of the things he had done with his hands recently. Digging around like a boar, ripping rabbits open to eat them raw and bloody. He shouldn’t touch her. “Ciri, I’m a monster,” he told her softly. “Inside and out, I’m… let me go. I… it would be better if I just disappeared.”

“No!” she clung even more tightly to him, tangling her fingers in his fur and hanging on tightly, her tears and snot soaking the fur on his shoulder. His own bloody tears dripped into her hair, staining the strands pinkish red. “You aren’t a monster! You’re Geralt! You’re a witcher, and a mutant, but not a monster! Even if you never change back, even if you look like this forever, you aren’t a monster. Your outside has nothing to do with your inside! You taught me that! You, and Eskel, and Lambert, and Coën. I was so afraid at first, but I know now. I know witchers are just men, Geralt.” She couldn’t keep talking when another sob choked her and she fell silent.  

Her sobs shook her entire body and she clung to him so tightly he had no hope of dislodging her. He shifted as best he could to hold her, and stroke her hair, and soothe her. He didn’t notice when her tears fell on his bare skin, didn’t notice the crackle of magic around him as he worked to hold her better, closer. He wanted to be the man she wanted him to be. He loved her. She was his child surprise.

“Ciri, I… I’m not what you think I am, I can’t be who you want me to be.”

She screamed in rage, shaking her head against his chest, slamming her fists weakly against him as she battered his chest, sobbing harshly. “Don’t leave me!”

He didn’t try to stop her from hitting him, the blows didn’t hurt. And even if they had, he deserved them. He let her vent her rage and fear against him, and ran his forearm across his nose and eyes, trying to clear them. Geralt didn’t notice he wiped tears against his skin, the fur covering his arm gone.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, rocking her back and forth on the forest floor, ignoring the unpleasant sensation of detritus poking into his legs and backside. “I love you, Ciri, I love you. I’ll stay. I’ll stay.”

Yennefer and Dandelion came upon them some time later, the sky grey with the coming dawn.

“Geralt!” Yennefer cried out in shock, rushing forward to drop to her knees beside them, wrapping her arms around them and kissing him hard. He looked at her in shock. He could feel her palms on his cheeks. Feel the scrape of stubble, not fur, on her hands. Her skin was cool against his, like it always was.

Before he could process it, Dandelion was at his other side, holding him tightly and swearing vehemently at him and the whole world. The bard rocked them all back and forth slightly, kissing Geralt’s face, neck, shoulder, and any part of him he could reach without pushing Ciri out of his way.

The bandaging had come loose as his body shifted and changed, and the impact and hugging along with everything else had aggravated his wounds.

“Ciri, Ciri, look, Ciri,” Yennefer stroked her hair, gently pulling her away from Geralt’s chest. “Look, look at him.”

“Oh, Geralt,” Ciri said softly, her voice full of wonder as she stoked his hair, and then his face. “You’re you again,” she hiccupped and sobbed. She ran her hands over his face and hair and shoulders over and over, kissing his cheeks and forehead as she did, frequently bumping heads with either Yennefer or Dandelion who kept touching and kissing him, too.

When he started to shiver, they pulled away in concern. Dandelion dragged off his cloak and wrapped it around Geralt’s shoulders, as Yennefer and Ciri went to get the horses. Dandelion helped him to his feet, tucking the cloak around him tightly. He held Geralt as the sun rose, glad to have him back.

Geralt had near forgotten how to walk like a man, much less ride, in the months he’d spent living as a beast. With a little help from the poet, he was able to mount up when Yennefer returned with Ciri and their mounts. They would get near the edge of the settlement and find him something to wear until they could go home.

He had agreed in spite of his deep fear, to allow Yennefer to portal them to Vengerberg after, and to begin his recovery in earnest there. His wounds would need further care, and he needed time to rest. He was exhausted. But he was home. And returned to the people who loved him.

[writing-mermaid]

Siren, part 2 : Concentrating my moves, I'm on a mission

Summary : Y/N is a mutant, a Siren, the last of her kind, with deadly dangerous powers and a hidden past. If most of the Avengers likes and get along with her, Steve doesn’t, and it’s getting worse when Y/N and Bucky become close. After all what can bring two broken souls together if it’s not a dark past.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings : Fight, mention of injuries and blood. 

Word Count : 1 643

Square Filled : @buckybarnesbingo : Free square

Author’s note : Second part, I hope you guys will still like it. Thanks for the few responses I had for first part and I hope this will not disappoint you. This story my entry for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan ‘s Little Darlin’s Mystery AU Challenge, the prompt I chose is Siren AU. I also made a library blog in case the tags don’t work, so feel free to follow @writing-mermaids-library and to turn the notifications to know when I post something new here. Don’t forget that feedback is appreciated and really important.

Song of the title : Bad Blood - Jess Glynne

Masterlist

Bucky Barnes Bingo masterlist

Siren masterlist

Buy me a ☕

A little more than an hour later, I make the plane land a few feet away from HYDRA's warehouse.

  “So, what's the plan ?”, Bucky asks, looking down at me.

“I don't really know”, I answer, tucking one of my blue strands, one of the results of my mutation, the only visible sign, behind my left ear. So, if you see a girl with Y/H/C hair scattered with blue hair, that's me. “Maybe we just get in, being careful that nobody sees us, take pictures and probably blow up whatever they're up to.”

“Sounds like a plan”, he answers, a half smile on his lips, pushing the button that opens the back of the Quinjet, before going outside, a gun in his hand.

  I grab my fight sticks, same kind as those as Natasha has, and follow him. It's a total wasteland. No sign of life except around the HYDRA facility. We silently move to the fence, once there, I take out of my belt a tiny scissor to cut it.

  “Lady's first”, Bucky whispers, holding it for me, and I lightly step through the opening I made.

  We slowly walk to one of the entries. Bucky slips behind one the guards and knocks him out, while I take care of the second guard, by poisoning him with my fingers with the sleeping poison I have in my body, just by wrapping my hand around his ankle. Well, I hope for him that it's the sleeping poison or in a few minutes, he’s going to be stone dead.

  “There are two locks for that door. They have to be open in sync.”

“And they need this”, I say, rising on my feet, with two opening cards in my hands.

“Well done, Siren”, he smirks at me.

“Please, don't call me that, Winter Soldier”, I answer, matching his facial expression.

  Siren, that’s the made-up name the Avengers, well Nat, gave me when I was recruited. And she’s right I’m a Siren, the literal definition, or almost. I literally can enchant men and women and kill them. I’m deadly dangerous, even if I look like an innocent and fragile thing, that’s why I have to take suppressors and why I don’t let anyone touch me. The only one that never were affected by my power were my parents and some members of my family, because we shared the same blood.

  “Ready ?”, he asks, and I nod, “one, two, three.”

  We slide the cards at the same time and the door opens. Bucky looks inside, before nodding towards me, a silent way to say that the pathway is clear. We both step inside and look around, Bucky with his assault gun between his hands, my glowing sticks in mine. We progress in the facility silently, trying to not get detected by HYDRA's henchmen. Bucky opens the path and I follow him, watching our back. We finally step into a huge room, full of alembics.

  “What the hell is that ?”, I hear Bucky whispering.

  We progress in the room, looking closer at the see-through containers. Some are full of a transparent liquid, the others of some kind of colored gaz.

  “I don't know”, I murmur back, “but I'm not really reassured by this.”

  A loud bang makes Bucky grab my arm and suddenly, I'm trapped between a wall and his toned, muscular body. I raise my head and my gaze crosses his bright blue eyes.

  “What...”

  He shushes me by putting a finger on his mouth, ordering me to stay silence. I hardly dare to breath.

  “Fuck, can't you be more careful with this ?”, a male voice yell.

“Sorry, it's heavier than I thought”, a second male voice answer. “Anyway, what's in that ? What's that gas ? Is it dangerous ?”

“I don't know, but look it's leaking, you might have unscrewed the plug”, the first one tells his comrade. “Seriously, we were just supposed to take this from point A to point B, but you had to drop it. Now put the cap back on and stop asking stupid question.”

  I breath heavily, afraid to be discovered, because, I'm less stealth than Bucky, when he's at least two or three times bigger than me. I can almost feel every muscles of his body against mine through my suit. Bucky must feel my panic because he takes one of my gloved hands in his, plunging his eyes into mine. The two HYDRA hands men finally leave, and he steps back.

  “It was a close call !”, he says.

“Yes, thanks.”

  I walk past him and try to see if something is written in front of the containers. I can hear Bucky sighing behind me.

  “This thing smells strange, don't you think ?”, he questions me.

“No, I don't think it smells weird”, I answer, trying to have a clue on what are the gas and liquid stocked here. “I don’t even smell anything, just HYDRA’s awful smell.”

  I continue to look around. There's no clue about anything. Suddenly, a pair of lips are attached to the nape of my neck.

  “What the hell are you doing Barnes ?!”

“You smell so good. You're intoxicating me”, he says, burying his nose in my hair.

“Let go of me”, I hiss, trying to unhook his arms that he snaked around me.

“Come on”, he adds, “I want it and I know you do too”, he slide his left hand to my arm in order to lift my sleeve to touch my skin.

“Stop it !”, I clench my teeth, knowing that I can’t get rid of the man who at least weight three or four times my own weight.

“You’re driving me crazy, that smell, of yours, I can’t resist it.”

  And it clicks in my head, the last time I heard this was before I had suppressors, before those who worked, a scientist said those exact words to me, and everything his clear. That gas is made of either my blood, either my cells. This has exactly the same power as I do, the one that makes everyone uncontrollably attracted to me. I try to make up a plan to get rid of Bucky without hurting, or worst, kill him. The dots of my brain connect quickly with an idea.

  “Actually”, I tell him, turning in his arms, “I think you have read my mind and you and I can have a little fun, don’t you think ?”, I wink at him seductively, sliding my hands on his strong arms. “So first, why don’t you kiss me”, I whisper, approaching my face to his, my lips grazing his.

  My left hand stays on his right arm while my left hand finds its way on the back of his neck. He leans towards me and I push a little on his nape to force him to lock his mouth to mine. His lips are soft against mine and I’m surprised about this, I never thought that Bucky Barnes would have such soft lips. His lips are moving against mine and as I did for the HYDRA hand man, I concentrate to make him sleep, or Steve Rogers will have one more reason to hate me. Well, I think that the fact that I put his best friend to sleep by a kiss during a mission might be one too. After a few seconds, I feel him stumble towards my body. I try my best to catch him before he falls flat on his face.

  “Sorry Barnes”, I murmur, “but you didn’t give me a choice.”

I manage to drag him behind one of the alembics, praying that no one will find him or that he will wake up too soon and try to jump on me again. I pull out of my pouches a few bombs and their detonators. I start to place them around the tanks, moving as fast as I can and program them. Five minutes should be enough for me to pull Bucky outside and go back to the Quinjet.

  “Ok, now let’s take care of you 1940’s man”, I state, turning to where I left Bucky before setting my bombs.

  I grab his metal arm and start to haul him to the Quinjet. He is heavy and I do this task as fast and as quietly as I can. I finally manage to go back to the fence and push the soldier through it. I take a look at the device connected to the bombs’ detonators, I have a few seconds now before the bombs explode. I go back to my burden and pull him again to the jet. I don’t see on the way back the two men we knocked out when we arrived, and to be honest, I don’t really have time to think about it. I don’t even reach the jet’s door when the warehouse explodes throwing me a few meters away from Bucky’s sleeping form. I land badly on my right hand felling it twist under my weight, and blood flowing from my left hand. Maybe I shouldn’t have put so many explosive blocs, but I wanted to be sure that everything would be destroyed. I can’t straggle, I have to put Bucky in the jet and leave that place before HYDRA’s men come after us. I go back on my feet and manage, clenching my teeth because of the pain, to pull the Winter Soldier again, the blood of my hand drenching his sleeve. I open the jet’s door with the button on my belt, bless Tony for that, and pull a little more my sleeping partner. I abandon him on the ramp, heavily panting while the door closes. I can’t even breathe for a second because I know that we have to leave now. I take back my place behind the commands and take off.

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[forlornmelody]

Impulse Control--Why Startling Poison Ivy Is A Really Bad Idea

Rating: E (Smut with some plot, for flavor.)

Fandom(s): DC Comics

Ship: Poison Ivy/Kate Kane

Linkage: Ao3

Summary:  To find Harley, Ivy must make an uneasy alliance with one of the more notorious (and notoriously attractive) members of the Batfamily. A simple, easy in-and-out. But nothing is so simple or easy, is it?

Note: Commission for @rookie009. Dude, thank you so much for commissioning me again. And indulging this weirdness.

->->->

Pam-a-lamb,

I’m doing bad stuff but don’t worry ‘bout it. 

--Harley xoxo

“It’s completely unlike her, right?” 

Jason leans against the doorway, one boot braced against it and the other flat on the floor. He holds Harley’s unfolded note in his gloved hands, narrowing his eyes at it as if the answer lies in the creases. “You know her better. What’s your gut telling you?” 

“She--” Ivy sighs, rubbing circles between her eyebrows--a futile gesture against her impending headache. “--She doesn’t leave notes. Harley just goes . Maybe she texts me while she’s out somewhere because the color of someone’s jacket made her think of me.” Waving her hand at the note, Ivy meets Jason’s eyes. “This…” 

“...is planned.” Jason rotates the note, flipping it forward and back. “You sure it’s her handwriting?"

Honestly, Ivy doesn’t know what to think. “It...doesn’t look any different.” She coughs. “It smells like her.” Like buttered popcorn and Chinese food. Remembering cuts right into her sternum. 

Jason puts a gloved hand over hers. He’s the only Robin who ever dared to touch her. “You’ll get her back. I know you will.”

She watches him step back towards the door. “Not we?”

“Sorry, Red. I can’t help you.” Jason shifts on his feet. To be honest, Ivy kind of expected this. She can still see the scar running down the side of his face, where a crowbar had bashed his head in, and where a coroner had sewn it back shut. Funny how the Lazarus Pit didn’t remove it when it brought him back. “The Outlaws and I have work in Markovia.” Ivy’s teeth grind together at the blatant lie, but before she can speak, he continues,  “But if it’s a gun you need, I’m not the only one in the Batfamily who can handle them.”

“Who--?”

“Don’t worry. She’ll find you.”

He shuts the door behind him so softly Ivy almost doesn’t hear it. The gears in her mind clicking into place drown it out.

You better be joking, Kid. 

 -----

Jason was not kidding. Ivy enters her greenhouse lab, and finds Batwoman herself leaning against a drosera glanduligera . “I’d give Frankie some space if I were you. He finds unannounced guests quite delicious and full of nutrients.”

Batwoman quickly puts distance between them. Frankie’s tentacles sag with betrayal. “Red Hood told me you needed a favor?” Her crimson-stained lips wrinkle with distaste. 

“Harley’s missing. Jason Todd told me you’d help.” It’s an exaggeration of his promise, but Ivy isn’t leaving anything to chance. 

It’s hard to tell with the cowl, but Ivy swears Batwoman’s eyes widen just a little before narrowing into slits. “That depends. Am I aiding you in a crime?”

Ivy turns around, pretending to ignore her as she prunes a mutated rosa gymnocarpa, one that will fire its thorns at will. She’s thinking of naming it Lucy. “Depends on what you consider a crime.” Before Batwoman can answer, Ivy continues. “Is hacking government systems a crime? Is kidnapping?”

Batwoman steps next to her, and nearly fingers the rose petals, but thinks better of it. “You think government agents took her somewhere?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time. But I want to find her before someone worse does.”

Ivy’s desk seems like a safe enough place, and Batwoman perches there. “You’re not worried I’m going to turn you in?”

That gets a chuckle out of her. “You’re certainly welcome to try.”

The suggestion rolls off of her like rain on a window pane. “Oh, like Batman hasn’t turned you in several times before?”

Ivy licks her lips. “Only when I wanted him to.”

The vigilante rolls her eyes. “Look. I owe J--Red Hood a favor. So I’ll look into it and--”

“No. I’m coming with you.”

“Why?”

“I have to make sure you’re not giving me bad intel.” Before Batwoman can protest, Ivy continues. “You don’t want to disappoint Jason, do you?”

Is it Batwoman muffling her grumble, or is it her mask?

“This  can’t be the Batcave.”

“It’s not. It’s a safehouse. One I will be relocating after this.”

Ivy snorts, eyeing a piece of ancient weaponry, a Roman shield by the looks of it. It seems neither of them trusts the other. She’s fine with that. Not once has Ivy ever appreciated having someone depend on her. Well. There’s always an exception, isn’t there? But that exception is off doing fuck-knows-what, and Ivy’s relying on a godamn hero to help find her. “Nice place,” she murmurs. 

“Don’t touch anything.” Batwoman says quickly, sitting down at her desk, bracing her chin on her elbows in front of her keyboard. It’s so... candid of her that Ivy catches herself staring. Apparently even superheroes let their shoulders roll forward sometimes. Ivy wonders what Batwoman looks like when she finally removes her cowl for the night. The red hair most definitely is a wig--real hair would never hold curls like that. Her hair is short underneath--putting it up would take too much time when an old lady needs help crossing the street. But other than the fullness of her red lips--Ivy has no idea who the woman is underneath. It’s going to drive her crazy--just like it did with her male counterpart. “CIA says she’s been “acquired for a black ops mission out of Bell Reve. But anything beyond that we’ll have to access on si--Are you even listening?”

Ivy shakes it off, pretending to examine her nails. “And why can’t I touch anything if you’re moving?” She’s trying to remember why Bell Reve sounds so familiar. 

“I would like to keep some of it. I like the way it looks. And I don’t want your pheromones on everything.”

Then it clicks. “ Beautiful View. Is that another prison?”

Batwoman presses her lips together, then nods. “Blacksite.”

Fire roils in Ivy’s veins. “Of fucking course it is.” No accountability. No oversight. Whoever kidnapped Harley can do fuck-all with her and get away with it. And Ivy (and Batwoman) have barely scratched the surface.

“Doctor Isley?” Batwoman says, her voice rising and tense.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay? The vines in my spider plant look about ready to strangle me.”

Ivy glances over at the chlorophytum comosum, whose children are quickly inching towards Batwoman and her slender neck. “She says you’re smothering her and her babies with the constant watering. And she prefers the name Billie.” Waving her hand, Ivy watches as the spider plants retreat back towards their home, leaving their caretaker well alive, for now. 

 ------

The “site”  is a nondescript cubicle-laced hell in the basement of a social security office. Neither of them can go through the front door--well, Batwoman could if she’d take off her goddamn cowl, but that isn’t happening any time soon. So they pop open a basement window while the mailroom workers are on their lunch. They meander through the maze of modular walls and humming towers, dodging the occasional wayward paper crumble. “Our info should be in that corner office.”

It doesn’t look like much, just an otherwise empty desk with a computer that has dust gathering on its keyboard. The room lacks widows, and Ivy wrinkles her nose at the musty air. It could use a sathiphyullum or two to freshen up. Batwoman leans over the desk, firing up the computer and clacking at the keys. “Almost there….”

Ivy smells them before she hears them--donuts, coffee, and the musk of unwashed skin. Security. “Bats---”

Batwoman doesn’t even deign to look up. “Keep ‘em busy.”

“Poison Ivy?” The first guard fumbles to keep his walkie-talkie in his hands. 

“Good afternoon,” she says neutrally. Batwoman gives her a steel look. “Work here often?”

His mouth hangs open, his thumb still glued to the talk button. He means to ask what she’s doing here, but all that comes out is: “Are you seeing anyone?”

Ivy snorts. “Maybe if you set that radio down, Casanova.” 

As soon as he complies, the radio hisses with static. “Sending backup, over.”

“Ivy!” Bats hisses, glancing over at her. 

She scoffs, listening for the tell-tale thunder of boots down the hall. “You know, this would be a lot easier if you weren’t hung up about property damage.”

“No one can know we’re here, Ivy.”

For the love of pete. Her heart already races out of control, and fuck if Ivy can slow it down now. Harley’s calming techniques be damned. “Well, you’re not going to like this either.” 

“Like what?” Bats says flatly, in the middle of a download. 

“You’ve only two other options, Batsy.”

“Enough with the nicknames, already.”

The backup pours into the room, and the room flashes white, and Ivy swears her eardrums explode with the noise. Her body reacts before her brain can, and the air’s filled with a dusty haze. Shit. Shit. Shit. 

“Sex or murder?” Ivy calls out over the coughing militarized guards. Who the fuck guards a building with a SWAT team? Harley, what have you got yourself into this time? 

“What?” Batwoman yells back, coughing too. 

“SEX OR MURDER???”

“...Sex, I guess?”

Ivy holds up her hands, seeing half a dozen sights aimed at her chest. “It’s gonna be sex with me. You okay with that?”

Batwoman doesn’t look up, but she does stop typing. “Is this hypothetical or…?”

“Not anymore it isn’t.” 

“Are you going to kill me otherwise?” 

Ivy pinches her nose. “ NO. For crying out loud. But we don’t have time to get arrested.”

“HANDS ON THE GROUND.” Ivy and Bats comply. What else are they going to do while they hash this out?

The vigilante rolls her eyes. “Ugh. Fine.”

“Wait, really?”

“ Yes, Ivy. But only if it’s not around these idiots.”

“If you insist.” Ivy waves her hand as subtly as she can, letting the pheromones escape her skin like a fine mist. 

“Uh, boss?” One of the sights drops to her hand. Shit. 

Five more join the first. “Hey! None of that. ”Pigs never were known for their subtlety. 

Ivy plasters on her most repentant expression. “Too late.” And she’s not lying. She can already see the green mist being pulled into the HVAC system. Which is another problem, but one she’s not going to worry about just yet. 

“Plant Lady! Get that shit out of the air!”

One. 

“No can do. Sorry.” Not sorry. Not one bit. 

Two. 

“I mean it, Lady. Or I’ll shoot!”

Three. 

“ Lady, I swear I’ll--”

One piggy turns to the other. “Hey, Frankie?”

“Not now, Mitch.”

“There’s something I gotta tell you, Frankie.” Mitch takes his hand, fingering the clasps on the other man’s armor. 

“Mitch? What hell-- mm. ”

Batwoman holds her flash drive in her hands, stunned by the site of an entire SWAT team playing tonsil hockey with one another. Ivy grabs her by the cape. “That’s our cue!” And she drags her to a cubicle by the stairs. 

“Wouldn’t it be easier if we just left ?” 

“‘Fraid not. Unless you packed an antidote to my new toxin with you.” 

“Actually.” Batwoman fishes around in her utility belt. “Shit.” She turns on her, jabbing a finger in her face. “You were supposed to be on your best behavior.”

Ivy folds her arms, leaning against the cubicle wall. “Wasn’t expecting them to send the SWAT after us.” 

Batwoman takes a deep breath. “So, how does this work, exactly?”

Licking her lips, Ivy answers. “There’s an antidote in my saliva, but it’s the most potent after I’ve had an orgasm.”

“Then why does it have to be sex?” Bat’s candor is refreshing, if not unexpected. “Why not jill yourself off and get it over with?” 

“It’s not so simple,” Ivy chuckles. “My DNA is too dissimilar to yours--”

“But if you have my DNA, aka my saliva , with it--”

“An effective antidote.”

“An effective antidote that won’t cause you serious side effects.” She steps towards Bats, holding out her hand. “Any other questions before we start?”

Batwoman quirks her head at Ivy’s clinical tone. “Will Harley be okay with this?”

Ah. There’s the question of the day. Ivy closes her hand, examining her nails as she shrugs. “She’ll be alive . And free.”

Black gloved hands take her bare ones in their own, squeezing them gently. “You love her, don’t you.”

Ivy swallows, feeling as if the ground is moving beneath her boots. “I’d--” do anything for her , she means to say, and give Batwoman the vantage over her.

Batwoman seals her mouth over hers, muffling her reply. And to think this woman had the more ruthless reputation over her male counterpart. Her slips are soft and full, and the gloss slides between them and tastes like dark cherry. Intoxicating. Ivy dares to dart her tongue between them, and taste that poison just that much more. 

Her pheromones work quickly as they enter Batwoman’s system. Her professional silence slips into wanton moans, and her hands work into the top of Ivy’s bust. She shivers, leaning into her touch, whispering encouragement. “Go ahead. Touch me everywhere you’d like.” 

Nearby, an officer lets out a guttural cry, “Please, baby. Gimme more.”

That pulls Batwoman’s attention away, and Ivy drags it back with the drag of her nails across the material of her uniform. “Shh. Don’t mind them. They can’t even hear us over the sound of their own sex.”

Batwoman’s voice is husky as she pulls the top of Ivy’s corset down. “You sure?”

“Mmhm. Happens all the time.” Batwoman laughs at that, and moans as Ivy’s hands dally around her utility belt. “Now, aren’t these things booby trapped?”

Nodding, Batwoman whispers. “Security disengage: Code Sappho.” The utility belt snaps open falling into her hands. 

Ivy laughs. “Oh my god .”

“Laugh all you want. I’m changing it as soon as this is over.”

Setting the belt aside, Ivy runs a finger down to Batwoman’s crotch. She drinks in the hiss from her lips, adding more pressure and more fingers, drawing heat between her legs and hopefully a little wetness. “You like that, don’t you.” 

“Nn, fuck.” Batwoman leans into her touch. She’s a goner. 

Ivy loves this part of the game, taking the most stubborn partner and watering their desire until it breaks them apart like tree roots in a sidewalk. It’s different from when she makes love to Harley. This is less like romance and more like chess. How many moves until she queens her king? “That’s it. Tell me what feels good.”

Batwoman’s knees go weak, and Ivy shoves her into a rolling chair. She presses the heel of her hand into her groin. “Oh g-- . Mm.” Gasping, Bats grabs Ivy's hand and shoves it into her own pants. 

“Mm, demanding, aren’t you?” Ivy bites her ear lobe. “I like that.”

“Just get it o --oh. ” Bats leans into Ivy’s skillful touch, and she plays her like a violin, basking in the melody ringing from her lips. But Batwoman would never let a bad girl win, now would she?

Teeth graze Ivy’s neck, and the gasp slips from her mouth faster she can stop it. 

“Oh fuck. Fuck yes. Right there.” It no longer registers which goon is saying what. They could all be chanting in unison for all Ivy knows. And she doesn’t care. 

Batwoman licks the red line she’s created, and she squeezes Ivy’s breast through her uniform, just on the edge of too hard . She knows exactly what she’s doing. Check . Ivy catches her mouth, tasting her, drawing quick, tight circles around her clit. Just as Bats quakes in her arms, Ivy pulls back. “Oh come on, ” she groans.

“You get tied up a lot , don’t you?” Ivy glances at the zamioculus zamifolia, potted at the opposite desk corner. “You must enjoy it, then.” Batsy’s eyes widen as the vines stretch towards her. “Why else would you keep going to work?”

“It’s annoying as fuck--” The vines halt their progress, and shudder, and the Bat licks her lips. “--On the job.”

“That’s more like it.” The vines curl and twist around Bat’s wrists, binding her to the chair. Two more bind the chair, albeit loosely, to the desk. Let her move her hips, without letting her roll away. Once she’s in place, Ivy sways her hips, slowly undoing the zipper in her one piece suit. She lets it slide down her skin, and Ivy presses her bare breasts into Bat’s face, and just for a moment her mark closes her eyes, breathing her in. 

Ivy frowns. This won’t do. This won’t do at all. She whisks the vines away, and Batwoman stares at her. Pulling back again, Ivy kicks her suit past her ankles, and tosses the keyboard aside. She sits on the desk with her legs spread wide. “I’m gonna need you to bed over, darling.” 

“I’m not your darling.” Bats turns her chair around, leaning down, and breathing in Ivy’s musk. She barely remembers to tie her up again. 

It occurs to Ivy that she hasn’t let anyone other than Harley get this close in a very long time. Usually Ivy leaves her marks to die after they get her pheromones in their system. There was that one time with Selina when one of their capers went sideways. While Ivy swore up and down, Catwoman pulled her goggles away from her eyes and kissed her full on the mouth. And things escalated from there. But that was before Harley. 

Batwoman takes her sweet time tasting her, and Ivy finds herself gripping the desk with white knuckles. No. She won’t let her know how nice this feels-- oh. Oh God. “ Fuck.” 

And then Batwoman pulls back. “Has Harley been gone that long?”....Did she say that last part out loud?

“Fuck you.”

Tilting her head to the side, Batwoman asks, “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

Oh, but Ivy wants to wipe that coy smile off that face and replace it with her pleas for mercy. “Almost. Do you prefer to be teased or penetrated?” Ivy leans forward with her breasts pressed together, her words clinical and her grin anything but. 

Bats dares to look her over, drinking the sheen on her skin. Her mouth never quite closes. She licks her lips, almost panting as she asks. “Must I choose?”

Ivy takes Bat’s chin in her hands. “Greedy, aren’t you?”

Whatever Bat’s snarky reply is, it’s lost in Ivy’s mouth as she claims her once more. This time neither of them hold back, devouring each other sloppily and noisily. Ivy trails kisses down Bat’s neck, and she summons another vine. The tiniest, softest leaf brushes across Bat’s clit. Batwoman cries out sharply, straining against her bonds. 

“Ready?” Ivy pulls the vine back, examining the wetness dripping down its stalk. Oh, she’s ready all right. But Ivy wants to hear her say it. 

“Ivy .” 

Digging her fingers into Bat’s chin, Ivy nearly growls. “ Beg for it. ” The vine teases her clit faster, not harder, never quite getting her where she wants it. No, needs it. 

Goosebumps run down Batwoman’s arms. “ Please.”

How fortunate that one of the cubicle dwellers has taken to growing a ficus ginseng microcarpa as a bonsai tree. Ivy draws out one of the aerial roots, sculpting it into the right shape. She slides a condom on it, safety first, of course, and lets the plant do the rest. It enters Bats slowly, slowly filling her up. Her eyes bulge as it pulls back, and pushes back in. No sound spills from her mouth, but her hips shift, thrusting with the plant as it fucks her. 

Fuck, but Ivy’s mouth is dry. Her thighs twitch, rubbing together hungrily as she watches. She wants to touch herself so bad but she won’t give Batwoman that satisfaction. She won’t. She...

Batwoman’s face twists, and her mouth pinches shut. Her back arches and the chair squeaks across the floor. The groan rasps out of her mouth as her jaw drops into the perfect Oh. 

“Not bad.” Ivy picks some lint off of her arm, releasing Batwoman from her bonds. “The antidote should be working now. Thank you for the view --” 

The vigilante charges forward, gripping Ivy’s arms and pressing her back into the desk. Ivy watches the monitor crash to the floor. “I’m not done yet.” Batwoman’s signature lipstick has smeared across her chin in a very un-Batlike fashion. Her gloved fingers poke at Ivy’s clit, and she hisses. “Still sensitive, aren’t we? Still unsatisfied?” Her voice drops low and teasing, and fuck, Ivy won’t tell her to fuck off now . 

Those same fingers that cast batarangs and grip grappling hooks dig into her, twisting and pulling. A chorus of cries ring out in harmony with her own, as Ivy lifts her hips off the desk, thrusting into Batwoman’s touch. “Yes. Yes.” Bats grins into Ivy’s mouth, drawing out her moans. Harley would do the same thing, but Ivy doesn’t want to think about her right now. She doesn’t want to think about anything at this moment. She draws up a vine, letting it coat itself in its own juices. Nice and easy , she tells herself, pulling away from Batwoman so she can look her in the eyes. 

The vine slithers between her butt cheeks, small end first. Batwoman raises her eyebrows, but she doesn’t stop her delicious torment. In fact, she licks her lips a little. “Ah, fuck. Fuck. ” Her hand works in tandem with Ivy’s vines, pushing and pulling her hips back and forth like a rubber band. She chuckles into Ivy’s mouth, claiming it again, tasting it again. Only chuckling louder as Ivy begs and begs for release. Batmwoman clenches Ivy’s hip with her free hand, digging in her fingers so she feels that much more used . And fuck her, Ivy loves it. 

If the pigs nearby are still fucking, Ivy can’t hear them. 

She doesn’t even hear herself moaning into Batwoman’s ear. She only hears the slick as she’s fucked from both sides. And oh , the fullness of both . Ivy grips Batwoman’s shoulders to keep from shaking apart, and she bites the skin of her neck as she explodes with the heat of the sun.

Ivy stretches as the vine and Batwoman pull back, and she hums with satisfaction. Batwoman watches her with molten eyes. “Should we go agai--”

Ding! The computer chimes nearby. 

Ivy sits up quickly, shaking off the last vestiges of her afterglow, slinking her one piece on and zipping it up the back. The zipper gets stuck, and before she can weigh the pros and cons of asking , gloved fingers finish the job for her. “Transfer’s done.”

“Finally.”  Ivy grabs her boots, marching to the office barefoot. 

Batwoman clicks a few keys, and whistles . “Mission’s already done. She’s at Metropolis General.”

“She’s hurt !?” A branch snaps in a horrid crack behind them. 

“She was, but she’s being discharged today. Better hurry.”

Batwoman doesn’t need to tell her twice. 

Ivy pauses to don her boots in the hallway. Nearby she hears the sound of a half-a-dozen special response officers zipping up their flies. “Ah, fuck. I lost a button. Anyone see the button to my uniform?”

“Fuck off. At least you’re not missing a contact lens.” 

“Hey! Who stole my gun?”

“Ah shit. Mine too.”

Leaving them behind, Ivy chuckles. The green always knows how to take good care of her. Soon she’ll return the favor.

------

Room 23. The hospital stretches on in an endless maze. Ivy forces herself not to run, to carry her empty clipboard like she’s a doctor making her rounds. Just act like she belongs there and no one will notice. So far so--

Ivy’s heart soars when she spots the room number. 

“Harley!”

Harley shoots up in bed, swaying a little, but her shit eating grin tells Ivy everything will be okay. “Pretty girl!”

Ivy sits on the bed, planting a shy kiss on Harley’s lips. “I need to tell you something.” She explains the events of the past 24 hours, and Harley’s eyes go wide. Twisting her hands, Ivy waits an eternity for Harley to reply.

“Was she good? Do you think she’d be down for a threesome?”

“Harley!”

[fvrxdrm]

Prove It

Leon x Reader

Movie: RE: Vendetta

Warnings: Smut/Cussing/Blood and Gore/ Probably sucks 'cause it's my first time/ Long

"Y/N!" The mutated monster threw you of the building you were currently on. This was it. You were going to die after years of fighting off real life nightmares. That was until you landed on something but it wasn't concrete. You didn't splat.

"Thanks for the save"

"No problem. Can't let our favorite agent die now can we?" D.C. replied through the radio.

Scanning through the plane you found a grappling hook just sitting on the floor waiting to be used. Perfect.

"Nadia, cover me. I'm going back there"

"Roger that, Y/N"

Nadia positioned herself at the entrance of the plane on her stomach with a gun in front of her.

"D.C., position the entrance facing Arias"

"Copy"

The plane rose up as it turned for the opening to face the mutated Arias.

"I am going to spill your guts all over" Arias' claws grew longer and sharper slightly caressing Leon's stubble.

"No time for shaving off beards, partner! Yeehaw!" You grappled your hook on an edge of the building and threw yourself, not forgetting to kick Arias on the face and grabbing Leon off of Arias' grasp. A white light struck Arias and the neighbouring buildings causing you to squint your eyes and fall down.

"You okay?" You breathlessly asked Leon who also fell beside you.

"I should be the one asking you that"

Glenn ran, jumped off the building and grasped to the left wing of the plane causing it to slightly spin.

"Shit" Nadia mumbled a cursed.

After the monster was kind of comfortable to do something else he grew his claws again passing through the plane, stabbing Nadia in the process. There was a roar all of a sudden, something coming from an engine. It was Leon on his bike, ready to do whatever he planned to do. He rode off and jumped his bike as it smashed through balcony to hit Arias.

Leon drew his gun "Catch!" and shot the motorcycle causing it to explode and detach a part of the beast's body. Arias lost contact with the plane and fell off but it didn't end there. He grew his deadly claws again and grasped to a building and the plane.

You grabbed a gun and ran off to the edge of the building where you can see Arias.

"Bye, dad", you whispered to yourself and pulled the trigger. It was gruesome. Blood everywhere with the bits and pieces that were once part of your dad's body together with a wedding ring.

You never even noticed a tear slipped through your cheek until a hand was put on your shoulder. You wiped off the tear and turned around to see Leon with concerned eyes.

"You alright"

"Yeah, I'm okay it's just...it shouldn't end like this. I never thought that I would meet my dad this or even thought of having a dad like him"

Leon didn't say anything else and just pulled you in a rather comforting hug. Grasping the back of his jacket tighter, burying your head on his chest as you sobbed harder. Him caressing your hair while kissing the top of your head. His actions were enough to calm you down a bit and cause you to flatter.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You held onto your left torso as you watched Rebecca inhaling and exhaling the vaccine that would help her turn back into a normal human. When veins returned to being invisible, eyes turn back to their natural color she looked at you and Chris and gaveyou both a weak thumbs up. The plane rose up to where you were. Nadia pressing her hand to where she was stabbed and D.C. saluting you...kinda. Anyways, Leon walked up beside you with his left hand holding his right arm.

"One more thing left to do"

"So, let's do it"

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

The vaccine was deployed around the city, removing the virus from each of the citizens' body.

"And once again, we find ourselves back where we started" Rebecca broke off the silence that was surrounding the plane.

"Yeah. Kind of. First I want my naturally wavy hair back, my top, my shorts, and my cardigan back, these earrings off, this stupid dress off, this cakey makeup off, and these fucking heels off" you retorted furiously at what that asshole made you wear.

"You look great in straight hair" Rebecca chuckled lightly at you.

"Um...do you know how much I took care of my hair only to be ironed like a million times? My hair's already damaged!"

Leon ran his fingers through your hair.

"Looks and feels healthy to me" he stated.

"Whatever"

"We got the bad guys. Hope we made the world a little safer"

"Yeah. I finally met my dad. Ended up brutally killing him. I don't know if I'll ever forgive him for killing my mom and now...attempted to kill all...even his own daughter"

You felt Leon's hand on your shoulder giving it a little squeeze.

"Just take your time. It'll be alright"

You placed your hand on top of his and smiled sadly at him.

"Yeah, thanks"

Silence surrounded us again until Leon spoke.

"Hey, Chris!"

Chris turned his head to Leon's direction.

"How much longer can we going on like this?"

"I don't know...I never make plans that far ahead"

Leon smiled at shook his head at how Chris retorted back what Leon said at the bar.

Rebecca and I looked at each other and smiled at how they were starting to grow on each other

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

The next day, You were writing a report when a knock was heard on your door. You looked through the peephole and saw Leon standing there with his hands in his pockets. Opening the door, Leon pulled his head up to look at you. He was flustered and he seemed nervous.

"Hey, Leon! Come in"

You stepped aside to let him in and closed the door behind you.

"Do you want anything? Water?"

"No, I just came here to talk to you"

"About?"

"Um..."

"Leon, just spill it"

"I love you!"

"What? But you already established that you don't have feelings for me"

"I know, I just"

"Leon, you can't just toy my feelings around. You said it already. You're in love with Ada ever since you met her back in Raccoon City. You can't just say you love me just because Ada isn't around"

"I'm not. I asked Chris for help and that's when I found out I was just blocking off my true feelings for you. I don't love Ada. Heck, I don't even like her that much. I just thought that I had feelings for her when she kissed me back in that cable car. It's dumb. I've been really complicated since then. But after everything that we've both been through, it's hard not to think about you anymore. I've tried to stop it but I just can't. Y/N I really really...really love you"

There was silence between the two of you for a second until you stepped a little closer but still far from feeling his breath.

"Prove it"

He didn't waste his time and closed the gap between the two of you. He cupped your cheek and passionately kissed you. You put one hand on his chest while the other slid up from his shoulder and onto the nape of his neck. His left hand slowly slid down from your waist and grasped your ass. You gasped at the sudden action and he took this opportunity to slide his tongue. Your tongues fought for dominance and the kiss was growing heated every second. You removed your jacket and threw it without caring since you'll find it later anyway but for now, you just focus on ehat was currently happening. He removed his jacket also not long after, tossing it just beside to where jacket laid. You pulled him closer and he pinned you to a nearby wall while wrapping your legs around his waist. His lips parted from yours and started kissing your jawline, your neck and down to your collarbone. You started gasping at how gentle his touch was.

Sure he may be one to be really hard and aggressive when it comes to enemies but when it comes to this type of stuff, it would feel like a feather was caressing you.

You ran your fingers through his as your left hand held on to his shoulder for dear life. It feels rather...amazing. Perfect to be exact. He found your sweet spot and started licking, biting and sucking it, making sure to leave a very visible mark for everyone to see.

Once he was satisfied, he put you down and started kissing you again but there was something more in it. Lust. You were both experienced, that's for sure, but it felt like it was your first time again.

He pulled away for a second and looked directly into your E/C eyes.

"You sure you want to do this?" He softly asked.

It's something like this he does that make you fall in love with him even more. He wasn't demanding when it comes to sensitive topics like sex. If you were okay with being rough then he'll go for it but otherwise he'll make sure to be tender. If you want to do it he'll go for it if not then he won't force you to it.

"Yeah. I want you"

He closed the gap again while heading to your bedroom. It was a struggle really. Bumping into things. You were sure you'll get a couple bruises because of it.

Once you got to your bedroom you closed the door behind you. He intertwined your fingers together and held them above your head. He was back on kissing your neck again.

Getting impatient, you slid your hands down and held onto the hem of his shirt. You broke the kiss and pulled his shirt off revealing his toned torso.

You gently pushed him to your bed while you got on top of him. You copied his previous actions and kissed his jawline, neck and collarbone. You also made sure to mark him yours by biting, licking and sucking his weak spot. It was gratifying to hear his groans and gasps as he becomes weak into your touch. He held onto your hair as you continued to lick down from his chest, abdomen and finally to his v line.

He pulled you up again to meet your lips. He caressed your hips and then ran his hands under your tank top, pulling it up to remove the the piece of clothing and tossed it somewhere in the room. You resumed your make out session while his hands roamed around your body until he reached the clasps of your bra and unclasped them, letting them fall down your arms.

He flipped the both of so he now was the one on top and started leaving wet kisses throughout your chest. He moved to suck on one of the buds leaving you weak under him. You tugged his hair and dug yourself further onto the pillow under you.

"Leon" you breathlessy moaned at the attention your chest was receiving. Your core grew more heated and you started sweating more. He groaned at how you said his name. In all honesty, he likes--no--loves it when you call his name. May it be to comfort him, argue with him, or even just normal conversations but this one, he found it foreign yet really arousing at the same time. It sent a jolt down to his manhood.

He removed his mouth from your nipple and did the same thing to the other one.

You have to be dreaming, right?

Last time that you checked you saw him and Ada kissing. It's either that or-

"Ah, fuck!" You didn't even notice Leon already removed your pants and underwear and was already licking your slit. You held onto his tighter as he began to nibbling and licking your clit.

"L-leon, shit!" Again, he groaned at the mention of his name and you felt the vibration to your core sending you off the edge. He licked off your juices and then climbed up to your eye level. He connected your lips again, the parting and meeting of your lips breaking off the silence together with gasping and panting from the both of you. He took his time exploring every inch of your body. It made you feel loved, protected, safe, something you didn't know you were wanting for a while. You glided your hands through his torso and to where the belt of his pants were, quickly unbuckling it. He sat up and removed the button and unzipped his pants, too slow for your liking. You quickly sat up and wuickly pulled his pants down together with his boxers revealing his *cough* long, hard and throbbing dick. A nice sight to see actually.

"Desperate are we?"

"It's not like you aren't either"

He pulled you again for another kiss and settled you down on the bed again.

"You ready"

"Ready when you are" you stared up to the ceiling as he steadied himself to your entrance. Once he entered inside of you, you gasped at how big he felt, bigger than how it looked like you fluttered your eyes shut and curled your toes. Leon groaned at how tight you were. He let you adjust to his size before slowly moving in and out of you. He took your hands and intertwined them together above your head just like before before slowly picking up his pace. You wrapped your legs around his waist helping him push deeper into you.

"Fuck, f-faster, Leon"

He placed a quick peck on your lips before moving thrusting faster. The air smelled of sex, skin slapping, profusely sweating, groans, grunts and moans leaving your lips. You grasped tighter to his hands while screaming profanities and his name over and over again. It was music to his ears. He wanted it. He loved it. He leaned down to your lips and kissed you hungrily again. It was hard to keep up to the motion of his lips because of the pleasure he was giving and the attention your sex was receiving. You leaned back and he started kissing your neck. Then there was this feeling of a knot forming inside of you.

"I'm gonna come"

"Do it with me" you nodded in response.

You hissed, moaned and screamed as his thrusts became faster and deeper than possible. Fuck, you haven't had this feeling ever. Sure you had sex before but it wasn't like this. Those felt wrong to you and this? This felt really right.

His thrusts became sloppy and not long after he released his seed inside of you and you followed suit. He rested slowly dropped his body on top of you, careful not to put all of his weight on you. You were both breathless and tired. Both processing what just happened.

Using all of his energy that was left, he pushed himsilf up fell beside you and you closer to him while you rest your head on his chest and placed an arm on his abdomen.

"Have I proven it already?"

"Yeah, you did" you gave him a quick peck on his lips before drifting of to dreamland.

The end.

LOL this was long. Now I'm lazy to read it all over. If there's any grammatical error just message me.