#Purple aloud: I don't really care

[eldritch-spouse]

I reeeeaaaaaallllllyyyyy want a pumpkin cream pie if you get what I mean

I wanna IMPRRREGNATE THAT DULLAHAN!!

Can we imagine his firefly getting her hands on a spell that gives her, like, maybe artificial tentacle cocks or just 1 really big one for a limited amount of time, and she spends all that time fucking Patches and filling him up w cum

:3c

TW: Genital modifications; Egg-preg; Surprise sex; Feral mindset; Large insertions

You glance at yourself in the mirror.

This is certainly something...

You're not going to lie, being stuck inside of Patches' lab while he's attending to "urgent matters" on the other floors is probably toxic for you. Because you always end up touching things you shouldn't, messing with concoctions that probably aren't safe for humans, or reading incantations aloud. Speaking of that last one- Trying to read a paragraph from a book with a leathery cover and suckers on it was ill-advised.

In your humble defense, it looked like a Lovecraftian cliché, and the paragraph you tried to read was the only one that used an alphabet you could vaguely identify.

It's not as if the results were instantaneous. You let the words hang in the air, felt stupid, and simply closed the book, thinking nothing of it...

Only to end up squealing and tearing your own pants off when it felt like your pussy was being warped into a different dimension. You can't even describe the sensation! The panic of feeling like your very nethers were shrinking out of existence, leaving a Barbie-like void in their place, before something wet and gross erupted out of your pelvic zone, proudly installing itself there.

So there you stood, clad only in a shirt, hyperventilating at the sight of a purple-ish mass of tentacles where your regular mound would be. The things connect seamlessly to your skin, glossy and wriggling aimlessly. One of the trio seems to be the main attraction, thick and heavy between the legs of a species that likely isn't meant to carry something as... Endowed. The other two are much smaller, auxiliary almost, ridiculously futile adornments to something that is already capable of easily gaping someone.

Fascinating. You hope it's not permanent, you really do. Even then, maybe Patches knows how to reverse it, right?

To touch upon the thing was to receive a myriad of new sensations your brain wasn't quite ready for, struggling to find new pathways, until oh! It all sparks, and you feel. What it's like to have a cock? No, what it's like to have something so much more different than what a human would sport.

Marvelous...

Hands fumble for the best way to handle this new piece of anatomy. Slimy and wriggly as it is, when you try to handle it the same way you would a humanoid length, it doesn't provide that much satisfaction. Tentative experimentation proves -Ugh, you're starting to sound like him- that using both hands to create a shoddy imitation of a cavity is much more fruitful, providing sparks of potent sensation as the tentacle frantically tries to wriggle past the tight creases of your clasped fingers.

It's actually forcibly trying to squeeze into the gaps between your digits! And the worst part is that it feels good enough that you don't care to stop it.

It's secreting something, but you definitely didn't orgasm. Precum? No, it's... Gelatinous. A tingle spreads across the palms of your hands to the tips of your fingers, causing you to immediately pry them apart and shake it off- Onto the counters of your captor's already messy laboratory. It feels... Numbing?

This spell, whatever it is, grants the bearer a reproduction-oriented appendage, which is probably meant to pierce into someone's womb. It doesn't take much for you to guess that maybe, just maybe, it also deposits something inside. But it's not as if you can feel the presence of eggs within you. Everything about this set of anatomy is foreign to you, how would your poor brain recognize anything of the sort?

Just as you stand there half-naked, lightly tapping the appendages, the noise of a lock clicking open reaches your ears.

And with one inhale, it's as if time stops.

Inexplicably, you become hyper-aware of everything surrounding you. The noises of every little piece of machinery idly running, the growing creak of the door turning open, chatter from people that didn't leave the elevator far away.

Something compels you to turn, and you silently face the dullahan as he walks in, looking tired.

" It's the fourth time this week! I've told them eons ago that the pool bar needs safer- " He freezes. " Firefly? "

While you can't find it in you to move, or look anywhere else for that matter, Patches is clearly taking in your current state. He's nothing if not intelligent, eyelights surfing from your swirling genitals to the very book you've just misused.

It's not uncommon for him to come back to something amiss in his own lab, courtesy of your curiosity, but the undead is usually very quick to find a fix for the situation.

Not this time. He looks stumped, nervous. A bead of magical sweat runs down that gourd head and his carved smile crooks anxiously, gloved hands tentatively closing the door behind him. Patches maintains eye contact.

Although inwardly panicking, you can't help glaring into him, fixated, feeling the monster cock between your legs pulse hard.

There it is, your brain screams.

Hole.

Easy.

Warm.

Fuckmate.

You don't even notice you're drooling until the sound of your own saliva hitting the ground manifests.

Overshadowinging the mild concern on the magic caster's face is a lurid sort of wonder that seems to war with his common sense.

" F- Firefly... I need you to stay calm and still, okay? This- This is temporary, you're in an extremely volatile state a- and-... "

You rip your own shirt off. Your bra, everything. You can't stand anything against your bare skin, it's too much stimulus, too much heat.

He chokes a noise out. " That's fine, that's fine- You're overheating, I- I know-... I'm going to have to put you back in the cage now, okay? "

You don't respond, his gaze flickers to your tits for the briefest second, then your newfound cock. Patches shakes himself back to seriousness.

A silence so thick and so tense compresses your cranium, like a spring, counting down the seconds.

One step.

That's all he gets to do before you lunge.

With a force and drive you've never possessed before, your limbs race past desks and stacks of thingamajigs, tossing everything aside, uncaring of the bruises to later form as your body crashes against Patches'.

He screams, naturally, and the two of you fall to the ground, your nails sinking deep into his arms, holding them to his midsection as you sit on his torso and huff down at the dullahan.

There's a fog caressing your brain, a certain dimness taking over, hiding any and all higher thought and leaving behind only animal impulses you've never felt before.

The monster beneath you trembles slightly. And perhaps if you had more of a mind present, you'd know that Patches isn't helpless, he's never been, he just enjoys pretending to be.

" Ough... Firefly? "

What were you doing again...?

It throbs, sloppily playing against the undead's clothes.

Hole.

Frenzied, gluttonous, you start pushing and pulling at the undead's clothes, frantic and confused. Patches already has a habit of dressing in a weird manner -You'll excuse that on his age- But now more than ever, all you want to do is tear those fabrics away with the sharpened teeth you never had.

You're not getting anywhere, the frustration has you gnawing on his pant leg, shaking it like some kind of feral creature. At some point, you must have bitten his leg because he yelps.

Patches makes a noise, you're not too sure if it was a snort or some kind of garbled giggle, but he eventually mumbles some kind of request and begins fumbling with his own clothes, trembling thin digits struggling to catch the right parts. Excitement? Doubt? You don't care.

Faster- You want to yell at him, but the only thing that comes out is an exasperated groan.

The undead doesn't get to do much more than unzip himself before you're yanking his pants down, throwing them away while he scrambles to get the rest of his outfit off, before it can be ruined by your enthusiasm.

" I- Let's take this easy now- "

He's hard.

Good, that'll help. It's not what you want though.

Uncaring, your one-track mind ignores his useless blabbering and pulls him closer by those green legs, parting them as wide as his flexibility will allow- Granted, being undead gives him a certain pain tolerance and unnatural nimbleness you can appreciate.

Patches gasps, worriedly eyeing the thing between your legs and comparing it to his own body. The size of it... Enough to rearrange organs. Thankfully, he doesn't make use of most of them anymore.

" Firefly...? Earth to my- my flame- Look at me- Look at me... "

You do look at him, for about two seconds, before feeling your tentacle slap onto his pelvis. It writhes against his hard cock, offering the two of you some mockery of friction, the wet sensation causes his back to arch and the resulting noise makes something crackle in your brain, driving you just one step closer to mindless lust.

Wrapping around Patches' dick, it squeezes and prods for something that's not there, slithers past his balls and lands on his ass, squished between his skin, slicking it grossly. Instinctively, it finds its' goal, the ring of muscle that clenches as soon as a rounded tip flirts with it.

" Oh my Lord- "

You spread his legs wider, observing.

" Ah- Ahn- I never actually tested this one out- I suppose mmn- I should be taking notes? "

A frown settles on your face.

No, no this position won't do it.

" Where's... Where's my-? Ohn fuck that tingles- The recorder! "

Patches twists slightly to reach an object deposited on the nearby desk, it was just the motion you needed for an impromptu eureka.

As soon as undead fingers clasp a gray device, you flip him stomach-down on the floor.

" Huh- Oomf! " There's a clicking noise. He starts blabbering something or other, date, time, location, you aren't listening.

In fact, you're more preoccupied trying to get him to raise his ass and bend for you.

" Hh- Human specimen has interacted with Transmutation Grimoire number five, speci -Firefly I need you t- to slow down- Specifically the tantric incantation in chapter six and- And oh Gods- "

The irritating buzz of his stressed words is ceased when you growl and crash his head to the ground, keeping it there as you slot yourself behind the dullahan's ass, spare hand poising on a bare ass to spread him out.

" And although I cannot yet know the timing of this action, I can guarantee the phhhh- Oh- The physical effects have manifested as well as the expected lack of higher awareness and overwhelming urge to mate. I am- I'm currently... At the specimen's mercy. "

Mercy that you aren't willing to give.

Thrusting won't work, because even as your hips angle and roll, the tendril is too restless, not at all like the hardness of a human, slipping past the monster's hole every time. You have to somewhat clumsily guide that thin tip and keep it pressed there, preventing it from aimlessly twirling around.

Your struggling eventually proves fruitful, because as soon as that inexperienced tip forces its way past Patches' entrance, the rest stretches to accompany, unforgiving in its increasing growth.

You pant, open mouthed, muted moans and overheated exhales falling out your lips as your eyes nearly roll back from the wave of sensation raking across your brain. It doesn't leave room for anything else except the impulse to fuck. Anything to keep this ecstasy going.

The dullahan on the other hand, howls.

Maybe it was pain, maybe it was shock, the slick of the massive tendril might have helped the insertion, but truth of the matter is that you must have flipped his dormant stomach when you snapped your hips against his ass and bulldozed the rest of it into him.

Relief. Blessed relief. You hold onto the magic caster with all the strength in your body, legs around his and arms coiled over his chest as you use your weight to keep him pinned. A grossly primal visage reminiscent of wild animals in rut.

" Ohn Gods ahn ffuck- I can feel it everywhere hhhn- " He sounds incredulous, laughing breathlessly. "This is still recording...? Uh- "

Although the tendril stuffed inside Patches starts pistoning without input, instincts collide and you can't help thrusting along too, creating an erratic rhythm that eventually clicks into plunges so deep Patches starts crying like an overstimulated baby.

You don't have the mind to care, don't have the chance to see his face twisted in a depraved, tear-soaked mess as he blubbers and starts arching back into you, trying to cling to his nearby hat for dear life.

Not even five minutes ago he was standing and clothed, now he's getting the guts fucked out of him by his own human captive.

" I wish- I wish you'd fuhh -Fuck I'm cumming I'm cumming ghhn- I wish you'd fuck me this enthusiastically more often- "

It feels incredible, an endless stream of pleasure that strains your vocal chords, for you can't help but moan with every breath, especially when his walls clench down on you with intense force, over and over amidst relentless fucking- Perhaps if you could stop to think, you'd realize you've been forcing him to orgasm several times since this started.

But you can't.

You can't do anything except cry out and mechanically bounce him on monster cock, surpassing your own physical limitations for the sake of climbing to a climax that constantly teases you, ever so slightly out of reach.

At some point, you have the feral impulse to look down, this sick and crooked smile on a sweaty face as you get to watch that ridiculous girth stretch Patches repeatedly, a steady wet clap of sound following the hypnotizing view, overshadowing even your labored panting and the undead's garbled sniffling wails.

For some reason or another, he starts moving a little too much, manic with overstimulation, trying to hold onto anything that can help draw away from the way his ass must be burning and his brain fried with feedback too intense. His cock throbs uselessly between numbed legs, a dirty puddle of his own release beneath it, he's entirely spent and yet can't flag at all, body scorched and confused.

The moment he manages to wiggle forward a bit, a noise of beastial aggravation rips from your throat, and you claw him back to you with malice, one hand reaching beneath him to trap a neck that hardly matters to his survival, while the other reaches to hold his head in place once more, digits hooking into his sockets.

It works well enough, Patches is back to incoherent sobbing and limp beneath your punishing pace.

" Yeah, I found his nasty ass like this. " The waiter snorts, showing his phone to a couple of coworkers.

The break room nearly vibrates with laughter.

" His desire for humiliation knows no bounds. "

Nebul notes, watching the clip of you biting onto the dullahan's back and screaming in pleasure as another concerningly fat oval figure travels from the length of the tentacle attached to you and into the swollen figure of his half-conscious coworker.

" But I can appreciate the knowledge, I was wondering if that incantation could be marketable. "

" BwaHAHA- Do you think those things are alive?! Is gourd for brains going to be laying eggs around? " Vinnel snorts like a pig at his own joke.

" Chicken- " Sybastian giggles, waving his arms.

" UHUHU- Buk buk buk ba-gawk! The human got me preggers buk bawk bawk- "

The two of them have entertained themselves imitating chicken noises.

Gallon looks at his shroom coworker. " Do you think you could cook them? "

Morell viscerally grimaces. " Hell nah, ya fuckin' sicko- "

" Grimbly, send this to me. " Santi mumbles, avidly watching the sad display.

" Eww no, so you can jerk off to it?! "

" Ye- "

The elevator dings.

Not a single sound rings as they expect either Belo or Admin to step inside the room.

Instead, in shambles a disheveled and barely covered dullahan, exhausted, and looking heavily gravid.

Faces turn a variety of colors as everyone holds back any reaction.

Sybastian cackles so hard he spits the mimiclings out his mouth.

[demonvibez]

The Book Club

Characters: Satan x F! Reader ( x Asmo ) Rating: Mature [Minors DNI] Word Count: 2.5k+ Tags: smut, public sex, unprotected sex, cock warming, exhibitionism/voyeurism, masturbation, oral sex, threesome, cum in mouth + vagina, female body parts, they/them pronouns for reader, mam and levi are briefly in the story but are not involved in this smut (sry loves) A/N: just an idea that popped into my head and took off! also! highly recommmend the picture of dorian gray by oscar wilde. I haven't read it in forever so I'm gonna give it a reread, but you should check it out if you can. Anyways, pls enjoy ♡

It wasn't unusual for you and Satan to hang out in the House library and read together. Whether it was for educational purposes, or simply recreational, the two of you loved being in the library. So much so that, if his brothers needed to find one of you, they would often only need look in the there. Typically the two of you took to Satan's bedroom for your more intimate affairs, keeping your sexual adventures together private. This evening, however, you had something else in mind.

There you both sit on the plush purple couch, the fire roaring in front of you two. You sit perched in Satan's lap as he has one arm around your waist, the other hand holding his copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray for you to read aloud. A soft, fuzzy blanket is draped across the two of you, concealing the fact that Satan's throbbing cock is fully sheathed inside of your tight, wet pussy. The two of you wanted to relax while you read, and nothing is more relaxing to Satan than having his cock warmed by you while reading a nice book. Cuddling with you in his lap while your warmth squeezes around him, the fire crackling in the background with the gentle melody of your voice reading to him - Satan has never been to the Celestial Realm, but he'd be willing to argue that this is better. As you shift slightly in his lap to flip the page forward, Satan can't help but to let out a tiny groan, his cock twitching inside of you. You feel so good wrapped around him, it took every ounce of self restraint not to just throw the book down and fuck into you right now.

"Careful, kitten," he whispers in your ear, "if we get too heated, we may have to-" Just as Satan was finishing his sentence, the library doors burst open. In through the door Mammon comes rushing, already arguing with Leviathan and Asmodeus who are walking in behind him. Asmodeus is wearing an annoyed expression, clearly in disagreement with Mammon, while Leviathan seems barely interested and is playing his handheld console. You could feel Satan tense up beneath you - his lime green finger tips digging into your hip, his expression stoic and expressionless. You knew Satan well enough to know that this was the calm before the storm.

"Oi, human! I've been lookin' for ya! Settle this argument we're havin'," Mammon shouts as he approaches the two of you.

"Seriously, Mammon? You really think they're gonna approve of such a stupid scheme? You're such an idiot," says Asmodeus, rolling his eyes as he stands next to Mammon with a hand on his hip. Leviathan leans against one of the study tables, his eyes still focused on his game.

"Yeah, Mammon. They're not gonna tell you anything different from us," he says without looking up. Mammon has a betrayed look on his face, turning to plead his case to you. Before Mammon can even begin to explain, Satan interjects.

"Not even a single fucking word Mammon, the answer is no."

"LOL!"

"But ya didn't even-"

"I said no, Mammon. We don't want to fucking hear it. I've known you my entire life. I know the kinds of schemes you concoct, I know that you want to drag my human into it and ultimately leave them with the mess. I don't care what it is - the answer is NO." You could feel Satan's wrath building up from his side of the pact. The two of you were supposed to be having a nice, relaxing, intimate evening, and the last thing you wanted was for Satan to fly into a fit of rage. The situation needed to be diffused before it reached a flashing point, and there was no one better in all three realms to soothe the situation than you. You squeeze your walls around him, reminding him of the situation you are in. A small gasp escapes Satan's lips, a hint of surprise in his emerald green eyes. You move your hand to gently stroke his golden blonde hair, the wrath you felt building up starting to ease. Satan's eyes can't help but to flutter closed at all of the different sensations, and as you continue to stroke his hair, you turn to address Mammon and his other brothers.

"Hey! Whaddaya mean by your hum-"

"Mammon, sweetheart," you cut him off, "I know you probably think you have a good plan...but whatever it is, if this many people are telling you it's a bad idea, it probably is."

"But-"

"No buts. You know in the end you're just gonna get strung up from the ceiling again. Now, if you will excuse us, we were busy reading Oscar Wilde before the three of you interrupted," you said, turning your attention back to the book and ultimately trying to get your evening back on the rails. You feel Satan's cock twitch inside of you once again as you take the book from his hand, forcing you to bite your bottom lip.

"Tch, whatever. Who even cares, I've got tons of other ideas," Mammon says as he sulks his way out the library door. Leviathan pushes off the table, also making his exit as he simultaneously continues on with his current in-game mission. The only brother that still remains is Asmodeus. He remains stood across from the two of you, a hint of suspicion on his face as he watches you. Unbeknownst to you, he had been observing you both since he entered the room. The obvious lust lingering in the air upon his arrival, and again a few moments ago, had been enough to keep him curious about what you two are really up to. Folding his arms across his chest, Asmo is determined to get to the bottom of this.

"Reading...sure..." he says, an eyebrow raised, clearly implying that the two of you are hiding something.

"Clearly, we are reading. We're in the middle of The Picture of Dorian Gray, a novel you would probably do well to read. Now, I don't know what you think we're doing Asmo, but why don't yo-"

"You know exactly what I am implying, big brother," he remarks, a sinister smirk on his face. "Or have you forgotten I'm the Avatar of Lust?" At the mention of lust, Satan can feel you clench around him and hold on. His breathing hitches yet again, his heart racing right along with yours, at the prospect that Lust itself has caught you in the act. "Did you think you two could hide this from me? Such blatant lust right in front of me," he says in a lightly mocking tone. You look over to Satan to see his cheeks dusted with blush and his eyes avoiding the both of you. You can feel yourself dripping down his hard length in anticipation of what could possibly happen next - whatever it is, the haze of lust grows in your mind, and you're just hoping to get some relief. It's hard to even focus on what the two demons in the room are talking about when all you can think about is your growing desire to just start bouncing on Satan's cock. It's not like Asmo would care, right? So tempting...

Before you can even make a decision, Asmo steps forward and reaches down, pulling on the blanket covering the two of you. Satan tries holding on to it but Asmo uses all of his force to pull on it, ripping it away and exposing your little cock warming session.

"I fucking knew it," exclaims Asmodeus, clearly satisfied with the results of his query. He tosses the blanket down on the ground, then goes to sit in one of the reading chairs across from you, his eyes glowing pink and his sinister grin wide. "Oh, don't mind me. Our darling human clearly needs you more right now, dear brother~♡" As much as Satan wanted to protest, he'd have to punish his younger brother later. Neither of you have the resolve to hold back any longer, and if the Avatar of Lust insists on watching, then he better enjoy the damn show. You both knew waiting was apart of the fun of cock warming, but neither of you expected such an agonizing pleasure. You had been carefully rubbing your thighs together, trying to find a small bit of relief, while Satan quite literally bit his tongue to hold in the moans - that was, until, you two had been exposed. To hell with hiding; to hell with waiting. You place your arm on the back of the couch, pushing yourself up and sliding back down Satan's cock. Moans escape from both of your lips in unison, like music to Asmo's ears. He reaches down to undo his belt buckle, the sound of which causing Satan to open his eyes and shoot him an emerald death glare. You can't help but to let out a whine at Satan's lack of attention - you don't give a damn what Asmo is doing, you need Satan to fuck you into the couch, and you need him to do it now. Hearing you whine seemed to have done the trick, because the moment he looks at you and sees the desperate look in your eyes, he starts to thrust up into you.

"Finally," you sigh happily, relieved to finally be properly taking the cock you've been craving since he slid himself into you. As you bounce on Satan's lap, your eyes flutter closed, your hand clenching into the back of the couch as the other grips one of your breasts through your shirt. You open your eyes momentarily to see that Asmodeus has taken his cock out of his pants, and is now stroking it while watching the two of you over on the couch. 'Fuck,' you think to yourself, feeling yourself get even wetter at the sight. The pace of Satan's thrusts picks up as he reaches down in front of you to toy at your swollen clitoris, a jolt of pleasure being sent through your entire body at the moment of contact. 

"Fuck...yes kitten, just like that. So good for me," Satan praises as he continues to fuck you towards your first orgasm. As Asmodeus watches the Avatar of Wrath pound into your needy hole, he did his best to match the pace of his brother's thrusts with his own hand. He'd love to be the one passionately fucking you right now, but he'll settle for watching you as long as you get pleasure. Lust being his sin, he is feeding off the two of you right now. Even if you were ordinary he'd be soaking it in - but you're his darling human and he is simply obsessed with your pleasure. You have no idea how gorgeous you look to him right now - how amazing you look when you wear his sin on your face, the gorgeous way your voice reverberates off the walls when you moan. You truly are a work of art ~ ♡

The three of you moan in harmony as you continue to make your way towards the peak of your first orgasm. Satan continues to pump into you at an unwavering pace as he massages your sex, and you can feel yourself finally being pushed over the edge of your first orgasm. A warm tingle spreads over your entire body, your moans becoming erratic and your eyes rolling into the back of your head as Satan continues on, overstimulating you in the best of ways. You ride the high of your climax until you come down, Satan slowing the pace of his thrusts to allow you to catch your breath. 

A few moments later, you feel both of his hands clasp your hips, and suddenly he's bending you over the arm of the sofa. He begins driving his hips into you, hitting spots inside of you that no one else has before. He fucks into you at a steady pace, moans and whimpers spilling from your lips with each thrust, and in your mind's lustful haze you swear you can see fireworks. In the midst of it all, Asmodeus spots an opportunity for himself. With his own throbbing cock still in his hand, he stands up and makes his way over to your side of the couch. With his free hand, he cups your cheek, stroking your bottom lip with his thumb as he strokes himself.

"Darling, you look absolutely delectable. May I? Please~?" he asks as he puts the head of his cock near your mouth, looking down at you with pleading eyes. You nod and moan out a 'yes' before he slides himself into your mouth. A sigh of relief and an unrestrained moan fall from Asmo's lips as he feels your soft mouth around his hard shaft. The way Satan is pounding into you from behind creates enough momentum to fuck you onto Asmo's cock for him - all he has to do is watch, and he is simply entranced by you. He pushes your hair back out of your face, cupping the back of your head gently as he watches you. The way you're looking up at him as you suck his cock is enough to make him wanna bust alone, and that's without taking into consideration the way it feels when you moan against him. 

Satan starts to pick up the pace, feeling his own climax starting to come close. He reaches down to massage your clit once again, his thrusts starting to become harder and more erratic. Your muffled moans grow louder, as does your orgasm once again, as the three of you frantically fuck each other, trying to get each other off. Satan can feel your walls begin to tighten around him, your orgasm being the first to hit it's peak. 

"Fuck, yes kitten, cum all over my cock," he says as he pounds away at your increasingly tightening hole, his seed spilling into you after only a few more thrusts. As you moan all over Asmo's cock, he can't help but to thrust his hips into your face, his cum shooting down your throat as he gently moans your name. Asmo pulls out of you immediately after finishing, wiping your face with his thumb to clean up any stray. A few moments later, after catching his breath a little, Satan pulls out of you and quickly fixes his pants. He sits down on the couch and pulls you into his lap, not caring about anything leaking onto him. He wraps his arms around you and you both just sit together, continuing to catch your breaths. Asmodeus breaks the silence.

"I think I'll have to come to book club more often."  The three of you erupt into exhausted laughter. Book Club may have to become a regular occurrence - in a more private meeting room, of course. 

· demonvibez ♡ 2023 · do not copy, repost or modify · · likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! ♡ ·

[kalmiaphlox]

Damn, this is what it feels like to be you?

AO3 Link / Masterlist

Part 2 / Part 3

Don't Touch That!

All it takes is one little touch and now they are no longer where they should be. Hircine is Astarion. Astarion is Hircine. Hircine knows better than to mess with mysterious eldritch artifacts, and so should Astarion. This knowledge does not stop them from looking into the unknowable. Chaos ensues as they learn what it really means to be alive and undead.

Pairing: Astarion x Named Female Tav (Hircine)

WC: 6.7k

Main Tags: Body Swap, Humor, Fluff, Astarion loves himself and boobs, smut coming in later parts, Touching things you shouldn't, Astarion now has an eldritch being in his brain.

Tag list: @zozoparsnips

Dredged up from the deepest bowels of the Underdark, the three mystery artifacts now lie before them, foreign and incomprehensible in their geometry, protectively encased in enchanted glass on the marble slab table.

Hircine claps her hands together softly in excitement, rocking back on her heels, eager to inspect these things in whatever capacity she is able. 

His knowledge of abyssal is worthless here; unfortunately, there will be no wowing his wife by name dropping Ubothar and Malcanthet, or monologuing about the caste system of the tanar’ri—or lack thereof. 

Clearly the subjects of her fascination tonight are from the far realms, a topic Astarion has been learning diligently about, even if it is all a bunch of incoherent devilshite. At the end of the night, eldritch horrors beyond their wildest imaginations are one of the few things that breaks Hircine out of her melancholy, so he’ll indulge her when he can.

The three scavenged objects were somehow so similar to each other in their aura, yet so completely different in their makeup. One warps and writhes in place, as if tentacles might sprout forth from its shell at any moment, but nothing ever happens as the intangible masses flow beneath the surface. The middle object floats a few centimeters off the table, morphing between geometrical and amorphous shapes, hovering within its glass encasing, pulsing an ominous purple, a beacon of nefarious purpose that could easily fit in his palm. The last is a green ball-shaped rock, unassuming in its appearance.

Hircine tugs at his sleeve, pointing at the relatively normal looking rock. “Husband, that's a dormant slaad egg! They are typically implanted into a host and then burst out in a shower of blood and guts. I’ve only ever seen a red egg before… The green ones are more rare since they require a high concentration of magic from the host.” She sighs dreamily, hugging onto his arm and leaning her head on his shoulder.

Astarion fails to ignore the way her breasts press against him, the warmth all too pleasant as it radiates from her body. 

Ugh. If he humors her now, she’ll humor him later. “Will the egg stay like that or is a host-eater about to make us dinner?” 

“Hmm, we should be fine. They need to feed on their host's insides to hatch, so keep it outside of your body.”

“Good to know,” he mutters. “What are the other two?”

To his disappointment, Hircine releases her hold on him, moving in to inspect the more ‘active’ objects. “That's what I'm hoping to find out. I brought some books to help with identification, but I don’t have a lot of confidence that we can glean their true purpose from some texts.”

She reaches forward, carefully removing the boxes encasing each of the eldritch… baubles—that probably isn’t a good idea, just giving the things open access. They stay in place, but Astarion swears the purple glowing one begins to pulse faster now that it’s ‘free’.

“Don’t touch them.” Hircine says.

He nods, not needing to be told twice as he takes a step towards the table, careful to stay slightly out of arm's reach. Astarion won’t be getting infected with slaad parasites tonight.

While he stares between the artifacts, Hircine flips through books on another table off to the side, reading aloud as she tries to find any useful information hidden in their pages.

Like a fish caught on a line, Astarion can't take his eyes off the amorphous orb-thing as it begins to blink between flashes of purple and white, its buzz drowning out all thought. Astarion makes another move closer, a tug within his mind calling out to him, begging for his touch. It whispers inchoate nothings, a madness so real and tangible he could grasp it easily in his hand, feel the coil of its vibrant light as he slips into its unreasonable cocoon.

E̸̳͙̖̟̳̰̟̜͈͙̪̖̲͗̓͗̅́͗͗̚͜͝͠X̵̛̤̟̲̜̳̤̠́͌̈́̈́̓̇̈́́̋̀͘C̵̢͇̤̩̹̬͎̱̀͛H̸̤̦̙̳̬̪̫͇̭̼̩̱̗̅̀̌͋͘͘͜Á̷͎̣͓̓̂̾͂̽̊̂̈́̂̀̀̚͘̚ͅN̸̢̨̧̛̺̟̭͓̖̅̈́̇́̔̓̈́̀̆̈́̚͝ͅG̸̡̠͕̣̝̝̺̗̘̟̺͕̼̗̅̿͂̓̔̈́̏͛͂̋̽̕̚͝͠E̷̡̙̟̔̒͐̅̽̌̕͘

All he has to do is release it.

Hircine’s voice, a distant melody floating through time and space, reaches him within the fog of irrationality. “Husband, did you hea—No! Don’t to—”

Astarion’s fingers brush against the object, a hard jelly beneath his touch, incomprehensible visions flashing before him and—

++++

c̴̛͎̓͌̾̀̓͋̒̋̇͘͝ą̸̫̱͔̥̝͎̯̦͈̼̮̂͂́̊̈́̇̽̿̓̈́̚̚͝͠ĩ̸̡̜͖̫̥̮̬͆́̄̀̒̃̎͒͂̍͑̾̈́̕͜s̷̢̛͇͖͇̰̰̱̻̬̄͂̇͑̕̚ľ̷̩͕̟͕̃̃ȉ̵̙̼ǫ̶̡̲͎̰̗̻̺̦͚̙̼̱̳̌̈́͐͂̒͐̿͆̓̓͛̓̕͝͝ả̵̛̝̞̭̙͖͚̟̻̼̲͑̍̓̋̂̌͗͛͒̉̽ś̸̢̛͖̹̲̖̻̫͉̘̥̮̉̈̃̆̆͝͝͝

Oh gods, his body aches, muscles tight and strained as if he spent days in the kennels under Godey’s watchful care. Even his eyelids are heavy, unwilling to open as Astarion slowly stirs back to consciousness. 

What happened?

He had been watching the eldritch things while Hircine was reading, and then… nothing. 

Did he pass out? 

̴̨̨̢̤̘̞̹̲̻̻̦̓̆̊͜͜h̴̛̗̰̝͚̔̑͜͜͠ḱ̶̮̝̠̜̙̜̤̞̣̗̟͖̑̑̀͌̈́̒̾̔̄̕͠H̷̛̺̟͓̳̱̝̜͈̺̥͉͇͉̖̱͛̂͒̓̿͛̌͘O̴̮̮̞̱̰̙͖̼̹̽͆̒̓͆̿͛H̵̡̨̻̭̗̤̥̰͕̱̘͗̅͑́̓̂̄͛̅͆̾̿̑̕͘g̸̭͚̬̻̻̤̦̺̏̈́̈́̾̏͜͠

There’s this alien warble that ebbs and flows within his head, discordant and atonal, but just as it appears, it is gone, fading from his mind without a second thought as to why it is there to begin with or where it came from.

A twitch of his finger confirms he’s regaining some mobility, slowly working inwards as joints are flexed and rolled around, anything to feel something more than this soreness.

But why do his legs and feet feel bare? Astarion was definitely wearing pants and shoes when they entered the mines. 

Perhaps someone brought them back up and Lexi stripped him down.

Except his shirt is still on and strangely tight against his chest.

He tilts his head side to side, a new feeling other than the ache permeates under his skin—a soft, blooming warmth, so welcoming in its arrival. Not the kind brought on by lying beside a roaring fire, but one deep within, as if Astarion gorged on a mass amount of blood. It's been a few days since a meal like that.

Finally, his eyes open.

The hewn rock ceiling greets him. So, he's still in the mines. 

Then where is Hircine?

Everything feels so… shrunk down, like his limbs aren't where they should be. He raggedly groans as he struggles to sit up but a breathy rasp is all that rattles out of his chest.

Bones in his neck pop as he stretches upwards. Hells, since when has he been so tense? There's such a heaviness to the back of his head too, a weight pulling him back down to the ground. 

And then he feels it, that constant rhythm pounding against his ribcage.

A heartbeat, powerful and steady, screaming that he's alive once again. 

His hand shoots up to place itself over his chest but collides with something much too soft and squishy to be him.

Astarion looks down and—

What in the nine hells is this?!

Fleshy mounds protrude from his(?) chest, draped in skin-tight silk dyed a color only one person wears everyday of her life. Strands of gray and silver streaked hair spill over his(?) shoulders. The hand grabbing at his(?) chest a pearly light gray with neatly filed nails rounded at the ends.

Astarion has no pants on because he's now wearing a dress that is a little too form-fitting, and there's no shoes since his wife hates those.

He is no longer him. 

He doesn't want to be something else again. Isn't one horrific change enough in his terrible, no good life?

But Astarion is alive, literally. His(?) heart beats a familiar cadence, one he knows well from so many nights resting his head right atop where it lies, while the fingers he now controls stroke through his curls or down his arms.

If Astarion is here, inside of Hircine, then where is she? 

That ever-present hunger for blood is now gone. He’s at peace—mostly. He recalls Hircine ate a few hours before they started their artifact inspection and now there is an emptiness within his—her—stomach, though it does not compare to the cavernous, never-ending desolation of being unable to truly sate oneself. 

He should be fine without real food for a little longer. 

Struggling to stand up, Astarion grips onto the table, unsteady on his(?) feet. His balance is completely off center as he uses the table to hoist himself into a standing position but he tips forward, leaning against the cool granite in an effort to not collapse completely. 

Gods, how does she walk around like this, so top heavy all the time? 

No wonder Hircine never complains when he holds her tits.

Now, where is—

Ah, there is his body, face down on the ground, one arm outstretched as if reaching for something.

The steady pace of his heart quickens, his breathing—gods above, I'm breathing because I need it and I didn't even notice!—hitches as he chokes for air. 

What if Hircine is gone because he took her place? 

What if his body is now an empty husk, never to move again?

There's no sign of life from his actual body, and of course there wouldn't be because he's an undead vampire! 

It's not time to stand yet with these legs, they feel so… thin. Astarion gets back down on hands and knees, crawling his way over to his prone body. With shaking hands he tugs at his body, failing to roll himself over. 

Am I that heavy or is Hircine really weak? 

Adjusting himself so his—her back is pressed against a table, Astarion pushes with shaky legs, slowly working his body over onto its side before it flops onto his back, head lolling around limply. 

When Hircine learned that Astarion no longer remembers what his face looks like, she immediately hired a painter to capture his—their likeness together. In Darkfire Hall, there now hangs a single portrait of Astarion and Hircine in the sitting room and he might spend a few minutes a day staring at it, memorizing that face so he will never forget it again. 

But this is his actual honest to gods face, in the flesh, laid out on the stone ground where he can touch it. 

Astarion leans in close but is stopped by his head throbbing with more of that accursed fuzziness. 

ḏ̶̢̼̹̤̣͕͉̘̼͈̑͒̓͌͑͌s̸̡̡̖̟̝͚̜̙̣̖̘̪͍̀̐͒ṣ̶̪̭̙̻̐͑̔̒̂̄̃̄͂̈́̓̚̕͝͠ķ̷̡̧̻̮̹̼͓̦͙̫̩̭̤̝̉͌i̷͎̠̰̠͕̊͌͋̕ͅͅ

And then it's gone again. 

Good riddance. He has more important things to think about.

The painting is nice and Astarion will forever be grateful, but nothing—nothing—compares to the real thing.

A strong, sharp nose stands prominently at the center of his face, accentuated by high cheekbones and sunken smile lines that must have formed from times long forgotten, never to be remembered again. Thick, dark lashes line his shut eyelids, no movement to be seen beneath them, and right now he wishes more than anything they would open, even if all he’ll see is the same eyes as his siblings.

The same eyes as Cazador, yet Astarion’s all the same.

He moves on, roving over his features, impressing them upon his memory. 

I will not be forgotten again.

To think all this beauty has been kept from him, and all because of the eternal curse Cazador has subjected him too. He won't be thanking whatever plight they've fallen into, but Astarion can certainly take the time to enjoy what's before him now: the most beautiful man in all the realms—Hircine would agree. 

He uses Hircine’s slender fingers to trail delicately from his full gray brows, down the slope of his nose to the bow of his lips, feeling them give as he presses lightly upon them. His hummingbird heart flutters in his chest at the sight, relishing every moment. Raising a lip, Astarion finds those pesky fangs that speak to his vampiric nature, never perfectly hidden but can be easily explained away with enough wine and sultry stares—not something he has to worry about anymore, being married and out of Cazador’s iron grip, at least for a little while longer.

Oh, and his hair. Styling it without a mirror, he knows it is perfect, but seeing it like this is much better. Those silver curls, softer than maratman silk and styled with more care than a mother would lay upon her babe. 

The incandescent glow of the magic lamps does nothing for his pallor, casting a sickly sheen over his skin that highlights and enlarges his pores, and turns the dark spots under his eyes into something garish, harsh.

How awful. He needs to get his body out of here and into better lighting to remember it by.

Not that Astarion can carry himself like this, not with Hircine’s willowy frame that bows against the slightest breeze in its frailty. 

And what if she is gone?

A lump has formed in his—hers? Fuck it, his!—throat and he swallows it down, rough as sandpaper. 

It was fake to begin with, yes, but their marriage is real as it can be under the current circumstances… It doesn’t feel fair to lose her like this.

Please, be here.

Steeling himself with a deep breath, Astarion winds his hand back and slaps it across his real face, watching it snap away. His palm stings something fierce, good gods, no wonder Hircine is pain-averse. Her skin’s so sensitive. 

It worked though.

The eyelids flutter as a strangled growl gets caught in his body’s throat, head rolling side to side when another pinched groan rumbles from his chest. Red flashes, catching the light as his eyes open completely, searching crazily around the room until they land on Hircine’s face. Scared recognition flares in those molten garnet pools.

Gods, I’m beautiful.

“Hircine?” Astarion says in her feminine voice, barely speaking above a shaky whisper.

His body’s jaw drops open, clicking and choking noses eeking from his throat as he sits up, scrabbling at his neck.

What is happening?

Astarion watches a moment longer in confusion before it hits him. He lunges forward, failing to grab the hands clawing at his real throat as they wrench out of his grasp easily. “You need to breathe! You can’t speak unless you take a breath! I know it’s strange, but you’ll get used to it.” Those words work, his body’s panic calming as a gasping breath is taken in. “Is it you, Hircine?” Astarion needs to know if he’s speaking to his wife.

A nod while she practices breathing in and out, no doubt alarmed by how unneeded it is.

Oh, thank fuck. He isn’t confident in his ability to kill anything right now, let alone a vampire being controlled by an unknown entity, and he's unbelievably relieved that Hircine is mostly safe and mostly sound within his body.

“I—I don’t—” She chokes on her words, struggling to get anything out. All in his voice, with his accent and it’s very, very strange. “I can—member…”

“I know, I don’t either, pet. Take your time, get your bearings,” he moves in to hold her cheeks between his hands, disturbed by the noticeable coolness of his body’s skin. How does she not flinch away everytime he touches her? “We’ll be fine.” Astarion has survived much worse transformations, this is a lot less awful than being turned into a vampire.

Finally, she tests her speaking abilities again, voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want to be a man.” Tears prick at the corner of her eyes, making those beautiful eyes shine with more polish than a red dragon's scales.

Pinching the high cheekbones, Astarion focuses her attention. “Don't you cry with my face! There are worse things than being turned into a man!”

Hircine rejects his words with a head shake. “You don't understand, this is awful! I can't be a man! Mother will—”

His eyes nearly roll back into his head permanently and he drops his hands from her face. “Keep the man hating inside, you little brat. Come on, get up.” It’s a feat of wills as Astarion staggers to his feet. “Do you feel sore as well? Gods below, I’m just aching all over…”

Hircine shakes her head again, the silver curls atop the crown of his—her!—head loose enough to wiggle with the movement. “No, not really…” She gets up fine, maybe faster than expected as she stumbles backwards into the table that holds the eldritch items.

That’s it!

Holding himself steady along the table edge, Astarion crosses over and finds nothing. They’re gone! “What happened to the artifacts? I think I… might have touched one before we… passed out, but now they’re just gone.”

She turns around, eyes wide in panic. “Even the slaad egg?”

“Yes.”

“Oh gods.” She clutches at her broad chest. “I don’t—I don’t think it’s inside me—you… I’m not sure how I would know, though I would imagine it hurts since they need to feed on your insides.”

Astarion looks down, worried there might be a lump nestled under his skin when all thoughts of slaad eggs invading his body are replaced with other, more lustful urges.

 While Hircine searches around the room, flipping over sheets and muttering angrily, Astarion takes this opportunity to really learn his wife’s body—for his eternal obsession and her future enjoyment, should they ever return to their bodies.

He loves her breasts.

A lot.

They’re perfect in every way. Impossibly soft, round, and heavy with the slightest, barely there sag that makes them even more delightful, always overflowing in his grabby hands, but aren’t so large that they dwarf her toned body. He also can't forget the ghostly white nipples that are not too good to eat, especially since they match her pretty little mouth when her lipstick has been wiped away.

He cups them, her small hands sinking into the malleable flesh, though the tight silk of her dress keeps them from moving around too much. 

There's never been a lot of thought put into how this feels for Hircine other than that it's very, very good when he's pinching or pulling on a nipple if her moans and gasps are anything to go by. 

The fat of her breasts being touched, it doesn't feel good or bad, mostly neutral as if he's grabbing at any other part of his body. 

Maybe it feels different with someone else touching them… Experimentation can come later if they don't change back soon.

His lively heart thrums in anticipation of his next move.

The pads of his fingers brush over where he’s sure her nipples lie and—

“Ahhh~!” A high-pitched whine breaks past his lips as his legs squeeze together involuntarily. Gods below, that was—

Hircine looks up from her destructive scavenge, a scowl furrowing her manicured brows and twisting her mouth down. “Seriously? Stop touching me!” She hisses, just the same as he has in the past when telling Petras to get his mangy hide out of the way.

“How do you keep your hands off yourself all day?!” Just that touch sent the most delicious tingle down to his nether regions. 

“I don't have much desire to touch myself,” she says, stepping beside him, “especially while out in public.” She grabs his wrists firmly, pushing them from her breasts and Astarion yelps with shock.

“Ow! Can't you be more gentle?” He demands, yanking himself out of her grasp to massage his probably bruised wrists. “You damned brute!”

Red eyes blink in surprise as Hircine looks down at her—his body’s hands. Oh gods, this is so confusing. His body is now hers, he needs to commit to that. She speaks quietly. “I thought I was being gentle… I barely touched you.”

Oh, dear. “Is this how it feels for you all the time? Am I too rough with you?”

Turning away with a noncommittal shrug, she says, “I don't know. Things feel the way they feel, I never put much thought in it.”

Her non-answer tells Astarion that yes, he probably is too rough, along with everyone else. No wonder she was so touch-averse in the beginning. 

Well, it could be that, or her intense hatred of men…

Or a certain other bastard.

Actually, Hircine lets him know when she doesn't like something. She would have said by now if Astarion wasn't handling her with care.

He’ll still be more gentle going forward.

With a shake of her head, Hircine groans in frustration. “The artifacts are gone without a trace. I don't know what to do!”

Knowing the far realms, they’re probably gone for good. “Why don't we go home and ask Lexi? She can undo curses.”

“I-I guess, but what if someone needs me here in—”

Astarion interrupts her. “Pet, I am in your body and we both know I can't hold a passable conversation in undercommon. I won't be able to answer any of their questions when they only come to you.” He takes her large hands in his, startled again by the room temperature coolness of them. “Besides, I'm always telling you to take a break. It's a sign from the gods—or the unknowable!”

She chews at her lip, a fang peeking through before Hircine nods. “Alright. We should go quickly though.”

They exit into the hallway of the mines, luckily clear of any employees but that could change at a moment's notice. Swiftly winding their way down the hall to the elevator that takes them back home, they are stopped by the disgusting jermlaine, Thirsk, who holds a tiny hand-made shiv in his hands. His beady little eyes dart between the two of them, but they both know he's going after Astarion's body. 

The vile thing lusts after his wife! It's only goal is to remove Astarion from the equation now—too bad for Thirsk, Astarion isn't going anywhere. 

“Oh, someone's in a bad mood.” Hircine whispers. she scans along the ground, pointing out broken glass along the ground. “Watch your feet.”

“I wouldn't have to if you wore shoes!”

“Not happening~” Is her sing-song response that falls very flat in his voice. “You have no idea how badly I want to tear yours off right now.”

“Ugh, whatever! Just kick that thing into oblivion so we can go!”

Hircine gasps. “How dare you! I will not allow you to hurt Thirsk!”

“You and you're—” Astarion's grumbling is cut off as another idea comes to him. “Carry me and then just run for it! He's not fast enough to keep up.”

If Hircine has any doubts about this plan, she keeps it quiet. Quickly placing her arms under his back and knees, she lifts him up with so much ease that Astarion gasps as they make their break for it, sprinting past Thirsk before the ugly beast even knows what's happening.

The elevator entrance is slammed shut and latched before the lever is pulled, beginning their ascent home.

Getting carried is nice. That won't be a common occurrence when they return to their original bodies so he'll make the most of it while he can.

“Will you carry me back to Darkfire, my love?” He asks, fluttering his lashes with the sweetest simper. 

Hircine’s face twists with disgust. “Begging with my face does nothing for me… but yes, I think I can do that.”

He throws his arms around her neck, pressing kisses to her smooth cheek that earn him nothing but an eyeroll. “I could kiss myself all day.”

“Ugh,” she scoffs.

They settle into a silence as Astarion enjoys being held by himself.

He would very much like his body back, as soon as possible, but a day or so of play shouldn't be so bad. Especially when he gets to experience living again. 

“Are you always so… hungry?” Hircine asks eventually, strained and quiet.

His last meal was two nights ago, and a quite filling one at that with a deer and Hircine’s blood to top it off. 

But yes, he is always hungry. An eternal thirst that will never be quenched no matter how hard he tries.

“It's just the nature of being a vampire, Love. Don't worry about it too much.” He sweeps a hand across her face, tucking loosened curls back into place. 

“How do you ignore it?”

“Years and… years of practice. It does get easier, but it will never truly disappear.”

Those sparkling red eyes find his, wide and frightened. “I'm not feeding you enough, am I?”

“No, no. Don't think that. Trust me, Hircine, it's enough, more than enough actually. You give me more blood in a week than I've received in probably ten years.”

 Bringing their lips together, they share a hesitant kiss before Hircine pulls away fast, disgruntled. “I really don't like kissing myself.”

Astarion laughs loudly, echoing off the cavern walls. “How could you not? You're so beautiful!”

“I'm not attracted to myself. It's weird.”

“Fair enough. I'll be attracted to us both then.” He taps her nose, getting ready to say more when that atonal droning shatters his thoughts once again.

ļ̴̨̻̝̻͙͚͙̔à̵̡̢̼̖̞̺̝͍̻͕͊͛̍̈̍͑͘͠d̶̹̬͖͔̩̯͉̳͔̍̓̈́̅̌́͋͛͝Ỳ̴̰̬͙͓̤̹̬̠̳͖̰͋̓̄U̵̢͖̜͚͎̼̙̱̦̲̮̻̦̔̇̿̉̃̈́̌͑̅̍̏̃̕̕͜

Wincing, Astarion kneads his fingers into his temples. He can't be the only one, right? “Do you hear that noise? It's like, uh, a voice but not. I can't understand it. Do you think it's—”

“It's Herma-Mora.” She says definitively.

“As in the far realm entity that corrupted your mind at too young an age?”

She rolls her red eyes. “Yes. Just avoid actually reaching out to him. It’s not like he’s actually meaning to  communicate through our connection, they just slip through. I’m able to block it out for the most part.”

Great, so Astarion is stuck with her mind invader, unable to silence him completely. The only upside is that Herma-Mora can’t hurt him… allegedly. What if his mind just isn’t equipped for it’s irrational chatter?

They depart from the elevator, and make it back to Darkfire without any interruption. Astarion doesn’t fear faking his somber and quiet wife—anyone can do that since that would be easy. It would be the cornering by one of her brothers or her mother’s sharp eyes, catching any wrong movement or inflection when they are always looking for Hircine's imperfections. 

If anything, Hircine is the one in trouble should they be caught by one of her siblings. They both know she can’t make passable conversation on a good day, and having Astarion who is always loudly speaking with his hands be still and stoic would be instantly suspicious. 

Nothing to worry about, of course. 

The doors to their hall are opened, greeting them with silence. Sometimes Lexi is standing here waiting for them…

Ah, right. “How do you do that mind talking thing? Isn’t that how you summon Lexi around?” He asks as he’s set down on the ground. 

Hircine is quick to shed the shoes and socks Astarion put on this afternoon, groaning in relief as her feet are bare once again. “Yes… but I don’t really know how, it’s second nature, I guess. Maybe focus on me and see if you can send anything over?”

Her telepathy only works one way, thankfully. They would have been in for a bad time if Hircine could have read his thoughts since the beginning.

Dragging Hircine over to the couch, which isn’t that easy because his actual body is shockingly immovable when Astarion goes to push her forward, he makes her sit so he can attempt this special form of communication.

Across from her on the couch, they lock eyes as he concentrates, willing his thoughts into her head.

‘Can you hear me?’ — No response from Hircine.

‘What about now?’ — Nothing again.

There’s a chance it’s not even possible, what with their bodies changed, but gods damn it, he wants it to work. Feeling frustration well in his chest, Astarion gives it one last go, forcing a message to Hircine, demanding she hear it.

‘LISTEN TO ME!’

Instantly, she crumples in on herself, clutching her head with a gasp. “Agh! What the—Is that what it feels like when I speak to you? Oh my gods, that hurt!”

Oh, maybe he went a little too hard. “I—No, it’s never hurt me. The first time was alarming, but no pain accompanied it. I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t play with it lest I inflict some real damage.”

“I think that is a good idea, Husband.” She presses fingers into eyes for what he can only assume is relief from whatever he just assaulted her brain with.

Being called ‘Husband’ by his own voice is weird… and maybe a little arousing. Astarion chews on one of his very soft lips, willing the thoughts away so they can return to their more serious problem. “Do you think Lexi can… help us?”

Stretching back upright, Hircine shrugs. “I don’t know. I forgot she’s out of the manor until tomorrow, so we might have to wait. Maybe we’ll turn back on our own in due time or maybe the slaad egg is buried in one of our bodies so we’ll die horribly and not even have to think about it.”

“I’d rather not die to a fucking frog demon bursting out of my chest, Hircine.” 

She waves his concerns away. “We would have known already if it was inside us, trust me. Let’s just endure what we can until Lexi returns. She can fix anything.”

Tsk, for Hircine maybe. Lexi sure wouldn’t mind Astarion becoming a host for any assortment of things if it meant getting him away from her lady.

How are they going to pass the time like this? He could read, but he feels like that will open his mind up for more of Herma-Mora’s disturbing vocalizations. No wonder Hircine is so scattered all the time when she has multiple people clamoring for her constantly, inside and out.

Actually, there is—

His stomach growls, loudly, demanding all of their attention. There’s an emptiness inside of him, nothing like his thirst for blood which is all consuming and constant, but a slight nagging sensation that could be easily ignored—for now.

Hircine smirks, all fangs. “I guess I haven’t eaten in a while.” 

“I—No, I guess not. What should I do?” Astarion places a hand over his flat stomach, feeling small vibrations from within as it growls yet again.

“Well, you should eat. That’s what I do.”

Eat? Like real, normal food? His mouth begins to salivate. “I can eat whatever I want?”

“Whatever’s in the kitchen, but yes.” Hircine laughter is bright.

Jumping to his feet, Astarion runs for the kitchen with Hircine trailing close behind him. “What do you like? Pick it out for me so I can try it!” Two hundred years of starvation and he can finally, truly eat again. Gods, he cannot wait to be full and satisfied—happy!

As she digs through the ice chest, Astarion looks over her shoulder to see what Hircine is grabbing. “Do you want a full meal or to just try whatever you want?” She asks.

“Give me anything! I want it all!”

So maybe getting their body’s swapped, while not ideal, isn’t so bad. To eat again, to live again, even for a day, is wonderful.

If only it were his own body.

Fruits and berries, sweets of all kinds, cheeses, crackers, dried meats and bread are set on the counter. While Hircine plates them, Astarion paces back and forth behind her, in absolute disbelief of what he is about to experience. 

The hungers of (wo)man have returned to him.

“Sit,” Hircine requests, and he all but throws himself into a chair at the small table in the kitchen. He could request they eat in the dining room for a proper experience, but Hircine hates that room so the kitchen will have to do.

The plate is put in front of him, a veritable feast for his senses with its assortment of choices. 

“What do I start with, love?” He glances at Hircine before staring back down at the food, barely bridled excitement boiling over. 

Sitting across from him, her lips twist with consideration. “How about starting slow with a cracker? Take a nibble, see how it feels.”

He’s eaten plenty of times over the past two hundred years. It always tastes like ash, but eating gives the appearance of non-threatening normalcy and there’s nothing that mortals love more than bonding over a shared meal. 

Taking one of the crackers delicately between his fingers, Astarion inspects every minutiae of the crisp food product. The surface is rough and maybe a touch oily, colored a light tan with toasted edges, along with some flecks of some unidentifiable green thing littered throughout.

“Rosemary,” Hircine clarifies as if reading his mind. 

He likes rosemary, the smell of it at least. It's what he uses in his perfume to mask the scent of his undeath.

On an inhale with the cracker close to his nose, he can detect the rosemary, along with salt and the yeasty scent of baked flour. His stomach rumbles loudly this time, a plea for him to take a damn bite.

The cracker is brought to his mouth, barely pinching the corner of it between his teeth, breaking off a crumb to taste. 

Just that small piece is an explosion of flavor in his mouth, the rosemary and salt a perfect combination of savory delight. 

The rest of the cracker is gobbled down, and now having eaten something, his stomach cries out for more.

Hircine really likes berries so he goes for one of those next. 

Astarion is not prepared for the tart burst on his tongue when he pops a blackberry into his mouth, a trickle of its juice running down his chin. 

Alternating different flavor profiles each time, Astarion pairs food that probably does not go together based on Hircine’s disgusted expressions but she lets him do as he pleases until the plate is completely clean. 

He's stuffed. Full. Sated. No desire to eat another bite lingers.

A dream come true.

When he stands, he pats his hand over his stomach finding it no longer flat. There's a little paunch now from having his fill and honestly, Astarion kind of likes it. “Look at this! I'm full!”

Hircine smiles up at him from her seat, very much enjoying his excitement. “Indeed you are. I definitely gave you a bit more than I'd usually eat but it doesn't hurt to indulge every now and then.”

“And indulge I did. Wow, what a feeling and I—Now, I'm so…” He fails to find the words.

“Tired?” Hircine supplies. “When I eat a lot, I want to take a nap.”

Hmm, a nap doesn't sound so bad but there are other things on his mind. “That sounds nice and all, pet, but could we go to our room? I want to look at myself in good lighting.”

She points at her face and he nods. 

Astarion will see all of him.

In the bedroom, lamps are lit and the fireplace is set ablaze. Hircine dutifully sits on the couch, still as a statue, while Astarion buzzes about, pulling at the soft silver curls set atop his real head, tracing his fingers over the high point like the cheekbones, nose, brows, shoulders, everything and just admiring those beautiful features. 

She lets him work in peace with eyes closed when he isn't staring longingly into them, careful to not interrupt his joyful wonder of relearning his face. What a perfect girl, his wife. Astarion would reward her but in their current predicament, that might be a struggle.

He's pinching and bending the tips of his real ears while sitting on her lap when Hircine opens her red eyes, searching him out. Her voice is quiet and hesitant when she speaks. “What if… we’re stuck like this?”

That is the thought he is not ready to fully confront. 

Inside the manor, they can make it work, hide away practicing their mannerisms to present themselves as they should be, that is until Hircine gets called for by the matriarch and then Astarion has to present himself before her, playing the daughter.

Iimithra would see through the farce immediately, but if she can be avoided, then they could prolong the inevitable—or escape perhaps.

What the family will do to them could be manageable, even for frail little Hircine—he hopes, she’s escaped Lolth and death near one hundred fifty years this long.

No, his worries lie with Cazador. His wife understands to a degree what happens now when he is forced home. 

She would break the second Cazador laid his hands on her, in Astarion’s body or not, and that is not the fate Astarion wants for Hircine. He won't see that hard-earned smile wiped from her face.

For now, there is no plan. They will wait, enjoy the night as is until Lexi returns and then they will do whatever they need to survive, just as he's always done. 

Cradling her cheeks in his hands, Astarion smiles before placing a kiss on Hircine’s nose. “We will be fine. I'll make sure of it, my sweet love.”

And fine, they will be.

“Could you do something for me?” He asks as he pulls back a bit, staring into her gorgeous ruby eyes. 

“If it's within my power.”

Getting up, Astarion takes her hand, attempting to help her to her feet, but it's really all for show when this body is weaker than a rabbit. A few steps are taken away to give them enough distance so that Astarion can capture his entire body in view. “Alright,” he begins, “can you copy my movements? I move this hand,” his right hand shakes before he points at her opposing hand, “you move that one, as if I were looking in a mirror.”

Her pale eyebrows raise up high and then Hircine nods. “Absolutely. Show me what you want.”

Astarion places his hands on his hips, standing up straight, and Hircine follows suit quickly, imitating him wonderfully, just as his perfect girl should. He turns his head left and right slowly, watching as she does the same so he can see every aspect of his body in whatever way possible. 

A soft, no-teeth-bared smile is given with Hircine performing impeccably. Is that how Astarion smiles at her when she’s being cute and sweet? No wonder she turns into a puddle for him all the time. 

Next, he morphs his smile into a seductive grin and Hircine follows as well as she can, lips twisting up so a hint of fang is revealed, eyes narrowed slightly, head tilted to the side… Dashing. Handsome. Stunning. 

Gods, I love that face, and it's all mine!

They strike poses, some silly, some serious. A hand here, a foot there, ‘No, no, the leg should go like this!’ before they go in for some really dramatic looks, kneeling down in a crouch as if they're sneaking their way through the room silently, bumping into each other and collapsing into a tangle  of limbs as they laugh. 

They kiss briefly and Hircine doesn't immediately pull away in disgust, thank the gods.

“Thank you for indulging me, pet.” Astarion says as he tucks some of the wispy curls behind her beautifully pointed ears, propping himself up over her large body.

“Anything for you, Husband.” Hircine smiles, fangs and all.

He's ready to go in for another kiss when a new, very strange feeling encroaches onto his happy high. A slight pressure, a need to get rid of something. “Hircine, I feel weird.”

“Weird how?” 

They both sit up, Astarion now straddling Hircine's lap. “I don't know… It's here,” his hand slides over his stomach, “I think or maybe lower.” 

Her mouth opens, then closes, and opens again before her tongue runs over a fang. “Uhm. I think you have to use the restroom…”

Cold dread coils within Astarion’s gut. “Fuck.”

[fairyhaos]

hi yenaaaa i hope you’re doing well!!

i loveddd your synaesthesia for svt and i was wondering if you could do it for your mutuals? i see you guys interacting on my feed and its so cute to see you guys talking and catching up!!

this isn’t necessarily a request but maybe more like an idea?? like what do you think? if you feel too overwhelmed abt it, then no biggie!!

THANK YOU AND I HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT DAY MWAH MWAH

hi anon! i actually did this before but back then i only did like 6 moots so i think it'll be a good idea to do an updated ver with more :>

@rubywonu @etherealyoungk @mirxzii @slytherinshua @gyuswhore im not leaving u out babes but ive done urs already and the colours don't ever really change ^^

@blue-jisungs a soft orange. vibes akin to sneaking out of the holiday house with your favourite older cousin to watch the orange sunrise on the beach

@h-ao a pale turquoise. feeling like waves and marshmallows, full of mellow and chill vibes, in a really sweet way

@weird-bookworm dark blue. fun and pretty like silk ribbons, given as a gift from a friend and worn in the hair for as long as you possibly can, to show you care

@hannyoontify light taupe-grey. like fossil rocks you'd find at a pebbled beach, smooth and rough and sun-warmed and water-cooled, full of little wonders inside

@planetkiimchi grass green. green like calm, like poems spoken aloud by the river, like spring and light breezes and the scent of sweetness in the air

@icyminghao misty beige. like the fur of a childhood golden retriever pet, soft and warm and thrumming with life and love

@vcrnons dark blue and yellow: like sunflowers at night, or seams on dark jeans, quiet and natural. the feeling of a cool hand reaching to take yours, comforting.

@kyeomies ivory. like slippery satin, waterfalls of translucent colour, sophisticated and gentle at the same time

@chwedout dusty purple. slightly deeper than lavender, like a colour that dissolves between the fingers, but is still mesmerising to look at

@jjunhui peach. somewhere between pink, coral, and orange, like the colour of the sky at dawn. sticky sweet and full of hope.

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Dead Friend Forever ep 2

Let's goooooooo!

Documenting my observations and speculations because of the ongoing mystery. (small comments in brackets are things I've gone back to after the ep ended).

I do like this opening music. It sets the scene well for this being a spooky mystery but also speaks of the youthful innocence - and then the breaking of it - of the friend group.

I know not every character needs to be colour-coded but they all seem to have a distinctive style, so for my satisfaction here's my interpretation: White is either blue or has coloured edging to his t-shirt (or both); Tee is either tie-dyed or red (or both) (White and Tee are the only actual couple and we all know blue and red are a common pairing...and Tee's tie-dyed vests have had both of their colours so far); Fluke is purple (duh); Por is maybe green; Phee is maybe orange, Jin could be dark, Tan could be light, and Top is either embroidered shirts or yellow (or both). Let's see if this continues throughout the rest of the series.

Of course it was Tan in the background of the film, he was missing from the scene when they were recording the film.

I literally said White's line aloud before he did 😂

I wonder if someone is putting something hallucinogenic in their food or drink rather than some of these 'supernatural' things happening to/around them.

HELP! 😱 That mask is super creepy 😭 *pauses and breathes for ten seconds* Ok, focus on something else - it looks like the person in the mask is using a crutch on their left side, so maybe has an injury to their left leg, and has the axe in their right hand...let's remember that for later.

If the masked person wanted Top dead, he could have killed him there and then in the bathroom. So if the masked person is real, why didn't they? And if they're not real, then does Top really believe what he saw? Or is Top lying to instil fear in the rest?

And so I also need to wonder if Por is actually dying or if he's acting to stir up fear in the group. Make up and prosthetics can look very realistic... Hmmmm 🤔

One of my biggest questions is, are we as an audience being shown The Truth?

That was A Look from Fluke...was he not part of whatever it is that Tee, Top, and Jin did to Non? (It seemed in a later scene he does know so probably was...).

I'm leaning more into the theory that they're hallucinating, and the 'drug' is playing into their fears. White obviously cares about how he looks, with all his skincare products, and as soon as he's used something on his face (has that been tampered with? Or did he accidentally ingest something when he handled the 'drug' for the others if this is all his plan?) he sees blotches on his skin. Top is scared there's a ninth person in the house, so hallucinates the attack in the bathroom replicating the scene from Non's film. Let's see if there are any other instances which will back this up.

Floppy discs! 😂

Do they really have to add those squelchy sounds for Por's wound 🙉

OMG NOT THE EYES 😩🙈😩 PLEASE!

Yes, definitely something to do with hallucinating and maybe Por is faking... Is the hallucinogenic drug airborne or absorbed through the skin?...

Something I can't work out...in the photo Top found earlier there were 6 people, so I assume Tee, Top, Jin, Fluke, and Non, but who is the 6th person? Should I have been able to see in the photo? Or will that be revealed later? (edit after watching ep 5: I realise I forgot to include Por, so that's the 6th)

Oh god it's That scene...not looking not looking not looking... Why are Top and Tee riding off the way the Uncle came, surely IF the wire was across the road it would still be there...so maybe it's not and maybe the uncle's head wasn't detached from his body...maybe it's more hallucinating...? Or if they're in the woods now then maybe they didn't go down the road at all...and the Uncle's death is real...

(I'll say this quietly because this is personal to me but I'm also having trouble watching because I don't think I like Jet's acting. It doesn't feel authentic and it takes me out of the story a bit because I don't feel like he's acting well. I don't believe him. And it's not like he's playing it so that the audience doesn't believe the character, I think it's Jet just not being as good as the others. It's like he's demonstrating that he's acting, if that makes sense, rather than just embodying the character of Top. It's a bit overdone for me. Sorry to Jet who I presume is working hard but it's just not landing for me).

THE TATTOOS ON THIS MAN!! 😮😅 UNCLE DANG...MORE LIKE UNCLE DAMN!!

Wow. I'm still hooked. I'm still side-eying Phee because I know he knows Non, and I'm loving that I feel like I can't believe anything that anyone says or does 😂 THEY'RE ALL STILL SUS. RIP Uncle Damn Dang though. The first real victim of this situation. If he really is dead.

[peachpety]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged 230943 years ago by @schmem14 [x] @vukovich [x] @mintawasalreadytaken [x]

check out fics from these lovely, brilliant, fantastic, stellar, amazing [*insert lady gaga meme here*] writers:

schmem14 [some truly wonderful & witty rarepair gems y'all] vukovich [off-the wall, peculiar delivered in amazing prose] mintaminta [insightful angst/dead dove & hot kinky smut]

tagging @mystickitten42 @citrusses @kittycargo @lumosatnight @xanthippe74 @rockingrobin69 @stavromulabetaaa @bubble-gumhead @porcelainheart3 @roseharpermaxwell @curlyy-hair-dont-care

me, myself & i

How many works do you have on AO3?

76 + 1 in anon, to be revealed soon!

What's your total AO3 wordcount?

149,896

What fandoms do you write for?

HP, with emphasis on Drarry.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Come as You Are (3.8k) Sun Stroke (3.8k) Laundry Day (2.7k) 10 Easy Steps (1.8k) It's Called Fashion, Potter (2.1k)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

listen. yes. i try. and i am so far behind atm. honestly, i get the most wonderful comments from lovely readers. and i want them to know how appreciative i am that they took time to read(!) and let me know their thoughts(!!). even if it's just an emoji(!!!). i don't care, i love it.

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

if you read me, you know...i do not write angst. i have one (1) fic where i stepped out of my lane and wrote angst-lite. it's not even really angst, but more moody atmospheric. and interestingly enough, the most purple i've prosed. my beta was like, peach, what? the weed which strings the hangman's bag

What is a fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

pfft, all my fics have the happiest endings.

Do you get hate on fics?

nope. i did get hate on a supportive/love comment i left on a friend's fic once. that's, like, 7th circle of hell troll behavior to be hating on a comment.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i do write smut, yes. my smut has been described as [insert various descriptors like "inferno", "blazing", "scorching", and lots of🔥] hot paired with soft/romantic/sweet. i.e. fluffy smut. smuff.

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

nope. the closest i've come is inserting HP characters into a magical version of The Breakfast Club.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i'm aware of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

not that i'm aware of, but i do have a blanket statement in my AO3 profile that allows it, so who knows?

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

nope.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

drarry, easily.

What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

i have a fic inspired by a movie and idk if i'll ever get it written. I COULD mention my xmas advent fic from 2020 but i'm determined to finish it this year. DETERMINED. 🦔

What are your writing strengths?

i'm good at characterizations & writing banter. and i'm good at writing lean.

What are your writing weaknesses?

recently, i've had the immense pleasure of listening to my fics read aloud in published podfics. and let me say, this is a brilliant way to spot weaknesses. and while my banter may be good, sometimes i maybe inject too much action into my conversations. it disrupts the flow. also, long, plotty fics ellude me. i'm a pantser/gardner style writer and plotting/outlining makes me hyperventilate.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

yes, if used sparingly, and in such a way that i (as an english only speaker) can intuit what is being said. and also if translations are provided as a footnote. i've got a french-speaking Draco in my Dron fics [1] [2], where he lapses in the heat of passion.

First fandom you wrote for?

drarry, baby.

Favorite fic you've written?

if i may, i have two: Deadheading the Odd Dahlia, inspired by the incredible art of @beyondtheclose Birds Behaving Badly (my longest drarry to date! 10k!)

[sunny6677]

Orchids.

Summary:

Lila finds herself trying to be a little more responsible as a mother after certain events that took place recently (and involved an old priest she didn't recognize), but while she goes out into town one night with her son and his friend for a small camping trip in the forest—she visits the nearby cahdy store and meets a very awkward but charming man.

Kevin finds himself overcome with stress due to all of the shenanigans the two weird kids in Halloween costumes keep bringing him—but one night when they both stroll in, they're accompanied by a strangely beautiful lady with purple hair.

Chapter 1: Lila's Responsibilities.

————

Lila didn't know how to react. To being called an irresponsible mother by some old man who had just strolled out of her house. To her son feeling guilty and thinking he was a problem for her. To.. everything. The more she thought about it, the more she loathed herself entirely.

She didn't know why she was like this. Why she just.. did things the way she did. She trusted her son to go out on his own, and thought he'd be safe at his friend's out, but instead they both came running out of her house after the old man had walked out. How they had even got there, she still didnt know. As of now, it had been a few nights since those.. events. She still remembered holding her sleeping son in her arms after they both cried together—sitting on the couch and watching the TV with a blank stare in her eyes.

Everything was hard. In fact, was she and her son ever anything to.. him? He, who claimed they were everything? He, who claimed that he loved them so? He, who claimed to care for him?

The more she thought about him—the more her thoughts raced.

As of now, she was laying on her bed with her head laying on the pillow, her lips parted—her lilac-purple hair eith bangs completely messy and strung across the soft cushions of her bed. Her hands resting on her chest. The fan on the ceiling gave the room an empty whirring silence. And everything in her mind just felt.. empty, but not empty at the same time—? It was hard to describe.

A groan escaped her lips, and she lifted her hand—pressing it against her cold forehead.

"..what do I do now..?"

She asked aloud.

And.. as if to answer right then, she began to hear her phone buzz on the counter beside her.

She slowly turned her head. The phones light sped into her eyes, and she squinted, but as her eyes adjusted—she processed a familiar name calling.

'Jaune.'

...huh. What could she be calling for at this hour?

Turning over on her bed, she reached out her arm—struggling to find her phone for a few seconds, before she finally clenched it in her hands. The cold plastic surface of it rubbed against her palm. Once she lifted it up to her face, she pressed the green button on the screen, and lifted it to her ear.

"Heyyy, girl!"

Jaunes high-pitched, but soft and happy-go-lucky voice spoke from the other end of the phone. She could practically hear the smile on the brownish-blondes face.

"..hey, Jaune." Lila greeted with a sigh.

"You feeling okay?" Jaune asked over the phone, "I wanted to see how you were holding up after everything."

"..I'm.." Lila hesitated. "No. Not really. I don't know what to do, Jaune.." She found herself practically whining into the phones speaker—overcome with exhaustion. "I don't think anythings ever been this bad since.. ugh.."

"Ouch.." Jaune replied, her voice softening. "Uh.. well, I don't think I can talk for long since me and Aaron are about to go to bed. But why don't you see if you could try taking some time off? Like.. I dunno—maybe you could go somewhere nice!"

Lila thought for a moment. Yeah, that.. did sound nice, actually. She gave a sigh again. "..yeah. Maybe. I'll try seeing if the boss will let me take a few days off." She then smiled. "Thanks, Jaune."

"No problem, girl! I'll see you later, okay?"

"Yeah.. see you later."

The phone then gave an abrupt beep, signaling the cheerful woman on the other end of the line had hung up. Lila squinted, thinking of what she could do.

...

She really hadn't been able to spend that much time with her son lately, had she? She worked a lot, so she usually let him go over to his friends house. She'd always let him go out alone during trick or treating, even if she would sometimes go with him if she didn't feel like staying home. And she went out drinking a few days ago too, like the irresponsible mom she was..

..maybe she could make up for it. In fact, maybe they could go camping. It had been a little while since they had done something like that, actually. They still had their tents from the last time they went, and she could easily go out into town on a shopping spree tomorrow to get them some snacks and a few other things needed for camping.

She found the aching feeling in her head slowly fading as her thoughts began to swirl with ideas.

"Hmm.."

————

Day had come. And even as of now, Lila found herself still thinking about the idea. In fact, she found herself smiling as she did so, happily humming at the thought of spending some more time with her son who was currently kicking his feet and watching some cartoon on the TV she didn't recognize. She had even been so happy she went about every chore she usually dreaded doing in the early mornings with a large smile plastered on her lips.

As she walked into the corridor, and poked her head inside—she decided at least telling her son about the whole camping thing would be what she should do before actually considering it.

"Hey—son?"

Lila called out into the room. She could hear her son shuffle on the couch, and then poke his head up—his eyes and smile visible from behind the circular skeleton mask he always wore. "Yeah, mom?"

"Would you like to go camping? I can see if your friend can come if you want me to."

"Oh! Yes!" Skid nodded, jumping up and down on the couch. In response, Lila gave a warm chuckle.

"Well.. okay. I'll go out into town later so we can get stuff for the camping trip. I'll ask your friend if he wants to go."

Skid nodded again. He then hopped off of the couch. She wasn't sure what he was doing, but he was probably going to go either call him right now despite her saying she'd call him, or he was about to go change even though they had a decent amount of time before they actually went camping.

Either way, it put a smile on her face as she began to turn around and make her way toward the telephone beside the entrance of the house.

————

"Hi, mo—wait, who's calling?"

The seven year olds nasally voice with a slight lisp asked over the phone.

"Uh.. just me! I just wanted to tell you that me and my son are going out camping! Do you.." Lila paused. "..wanna come over and go camping with us?"

The child's voice gasped over the phone, and he giggled. "Oh, yeah! Eheheh.. hold on! I'll let grandpa know!"

"Al—Alright!"

The child's voice was gone for a moment. Should she just.. let her sons friend walk by himself? She knew he walked over here plenty of times before, but the guilt that had been summoned by the old man's words a few nights prior began to sink into her mind.

After a few moments, the child's voice returned. "Okay! He said I could come over—"

"Alright! Uh—hey, I think I might actually come pick you up and bring you here. Is—that okay with you?"

"Huh? Oh, uh.. yeah, it is!" Pump said into the phone, sounding a bit puzzled by the change in routine.

"Okay—I'll see you later!"

"See you later, Ms. Lila!"

And just like that, the phone gave a beep, signaling the child had hung up.

Lila clenched the phone in her hand, setting it down back onto the booth. Slowly, she walked to the window—and looked outside. Her reflection stared back at her. But her reflection made the guilty thoughts in her head swarm less—a faint smile forming on her lips.

It was a bit hard to get used to this routine already. But.. it was at least a start.

————

She didn't really need to drive, seeing as the house of her sons friends wasn't even that far anyway. But for some reason, she felt driving was more appropriate than just walking. After all, her son would be safer in here. And there'd be less dangers of him just wondering off.

She had already come to a stop, hearing the car give a click as she unlocked the door. The familiar residence of the Wonders looming over the familiar green frontyard, two stories and large in size. There was nothing for a few moments as her son kicked his feet, eagerly watching.

And then, the door came open.

Her sons friend stood in the doorway, wearing the same bright orange pumpkin mask with a lime-green stem he always did—his grin visible behind his mouth-piece. He turned his head, saying something to Susie (his sister) who stood from behind. He stepped out onto the doorstep, running along the path as the black door slammed behind him. Her son began to wave with a smile—and in response, her sons friends greeted him back. On his back was a green bag—probably some items he had brought for the occasion.

Finally, her sons friend rounded around the car, and went to the door that held the empty spot of the back. Surprisingly, he managed to jump up, and pulled the door completely open.

As always.. both him and her son chimed in unison as her sons ftiend threw the bag onto the floor of the car, "Ayyye!"

Her sons friend practically hopped onto the seat, shutting the car door behind him. Of course, they crouched somehow in their seats, and began to throw their hands from side to side with gleeful smiles. Lila looked at them with a smile, and playfully rolled her eyes as she looked ahead.

"Alright, kids.. we'll go home first!" She explained, "And then we'll go out and get some stuff for camping."

"Okay, mom!" Skid said, ceasing his dance.

"Okay, Ms. Lila!" Pump said at the same time, smiling.

Lila softly chuckled, and wrapping her hands around the wheel of the vehicle that was still powered on, she began to drive foward along the road.

[artzychic27]

Some static shock quotes with miraculous characters especially the science kids?

Ismael: Mutant? Now that's degrading.

Simon: You have a better word for it?

Ismael: I kind of like... meta-human.

-

Doctor: Do these changes involve another person?

Zoé: A lot of them.

Doctor: ... Does your father know what you've been doing?!

Zoé: What?! Whoa, Doc, we're talking about two totally different things here.

-

Akuma: You're that freak from TV!

Wyvern: You say freak, I say unique!

-

Wyvern: Lucky that water main was

Minnie: Uh, Wyern...? That wasn't a water main. It was a sewer line.

-

Nathaniel: What's that guy got that I don't have?

Alix: Let's make a list. Looks, height, all-state in track and field - shall I quit while you're behind?

Nathaniel: I thought we were tight, Alix.

Alix: We are bro, just keeping it real.

-

Nathaniel: Do you know what hanging with Marc Anciel is going to do to my rep?

Alix: Uh... Start it?

-

Simon: Where're you taking us, Aurore?

Aurore: Patience, we're almost there. It'll be easier when we're old enough to drive.

Denise: Hey, we could have gotten on my shield and flown.

Reshma: Well, no disrespect, but I've seen you fall off that thing.

Denise: One time, and they were shooting at me!

-

Ismael: You gotta be kidding me. You'd have to renovate before this place could even qualify as a dump.

Aurore Oh, come on, use your imagination; right now this place might be a broken down, rat-infested...

Jean: (interrupts) Rat-infested?!

Aurore: We'll get some traps. The point is, with a little work, this could be the nerve center of our entire superhero operation.

Simon: And what would we call it, the Abandoned Gas Station of Solitude?

Aurore: Ahh, that's funny.

Cosette: Hey, I'd have built us a tree house if I had a tree.

Lacey: I wish I could just go out and rent a decent headquarters, but that takes money.

Reshma: Nobody ever said the superhero gig would be a profit center.

Marc: Yeah, but it's costing me; I keep tearing my costume, melting my shoes.

-

Nora: *banging her hand on the locked bathroom door* Alya Ovid Césaire, get your ashy butt out here right this minute!

Alya: *unlocks the door and sticks her head out* Nora! My middle name is never to be spoken aloud, you know that! *sticks his bed back into the bathroom and slams the door closed*

-

Yvette: Don't you ever go home?

Zoé: *Cuddling with Cosette on the couch* I smell an insinuation.

-

Lapin: He even had purple skin and orange hair!

Rooster Bold: Ugh, Akumas. They just have no fashion sense.

-

Leonardo: You ok, sir?

Driver: You almost threw me into orbit! I was scared to death!

Leonardo: I'm sorry, but something's happened to my powers. They're way stronger than they used to be.

Driver: That so? Well, can you drop me off at 44th and 3rd?

Leonardo: Didn't you just say you were scared to death?

Driver: Yeah. But the traffic in this town is even scarier.

-

Lacey: This looks like a job for...

Jean: Don't finish that sentence, Lacey. Superman already owns the rights.

-

Reshma: You told them we were doing homework? On a Friday night?

Ismael: Think they won't believe me?

Reshma: No, they will, which doesn't say much for our social lives.

-

Fennec: Look, can we just talk for a sec'?

Evillustrator: No! Give it back! It's mine!

Fennec: Give what back? *Evillustrator prepares to attack* Wait?! Is this about that photo? HEY, you can have it back! Come on, Nathaniel. Chill out!

Evillustrator: You... You know my name?

Fennec: I found out from some people!.. People who care about you.

Evillustrator: Nobody cares about me!! *He hits her with some of his ink*

Fennec: Whoah! Come on slow down! I care... And I wanna help you... I know what you've gone through...

Evillustrator: How could you know...?

Fennec: Because... I lost my dad, too. *Evillustrator stops attacking. She returns his picture of Nathaniel and his father* I know how hard it is, how the pain never really goes away...

-

Zoé: That doesn't make any sense! Why am I changing now?! You all got your powers the day the lab exploded!

Simon: I don't know. Late boomer, maybe? I mean, others had delayed reactions.

-

Pluto: *admires herself in the mirror in her new uniform* Well? What do ya think?

King Cobra: I think you spend too much time in front of the mirror than Lemon Bee and Rooster Bold do! And that worries me.

Pluto: Now I just need to come up with a superhero handle. How about, Fido?

Minnie: Nope!

Pluto: Fluffy?

*Hamlet rolls his eyes*

Pluto: All I've got left is Pluto!

Minnie: Hey, as long as your costume doesn't match the character, you're good.

-

Caprikid: What? Afraid I'm gonna show you up again, rooster boy? Well, you can relax.

Rooster Bold: I am relaxed. You're the one jumpin' around like a demented cheerleader.

-

Pluto: Time we used Plan "B".

Bronco: Okay. What's Plan "B"?

Pluto: Stop using Plan "A".

-

Wyvern: Look at this; it’s a review of your debut.

Roi Singe: I don’t read reviews.

Wyvern: Don’t or can’t?

Roi Singe: Look I’m dyslexic all right. They put me in a special learning program. They showed me techniques.

Wyvern: Like what?

Roi Singe: A lot of stuff. You change words into something you can feel instead of looking at, but it takes patience. I could never sit still as a kid.

Wyvern: So you dropped out of the program?

Roi Singe: I felt dumb! Don’t tell anyone about this ok?

Wyvern: You’re not dumb! Look what you made of yourself. A hero. An athlete. But…

Roi Singe: But I messed up.

Wyvern: I was gonna say ‘But you can’t give in’. You said you can read, it just takes some work. Do the work.

-

Hamlet: Austin Tomassian, I'm glad to see you're ok.

Austin T: You can drop the act, Songbird.

Hamlet: You know?

Austin T: Wasn't hard to figure out. Why else kidnap me to get to Hamlet? And maybe, just maybe, in the back of my mind, I've always known.

-

Marinette: Is that... Marc?

Rooster Bold: Uh... You have to understand the most secret part of a superhero is their secret identity and, well, uh-

Lapin: Yeah, that's Marc.

Rooster Bold: Hi.

-

Alya: Look! It's the Miracle Squad!

Nino: And as usual, Mme. Mendeleieve's class is nowhere in sight... You don't think?

Alya: Nah. It couldn't be.

[orfeoarte]

Hi Orfeofriend <3

Excuse me marching in here unannounced. I decided to send some asks, and well, I thought that perhaps you might also like these questions. (Feel free to answer in your own time or ignore as your spoons allow. <3)

I know we love to talk about breaking the rules in writing and obviously, that not every piece of advice is one-size-fits all, but there is a lot to say about being able to speak with each other about what we have learned during our journey. I was wondering if you wouldn't share. (I also plan on poking some of the others to see what more we can shake out. The more the merrier, no?)

What is the most useful/helpful pieces of advice you ever received during your formal education in relation to writing?

Once you started to write, what was the most important thing that you learned about writing or its process?

Has your real life had any influence on your writing? If so, how?

What advice would you give to aspiring writers (be it fanfiction or original)?

Thank you so much for the ask Winter! I love sharing these things with fellow writers, it makes me so happy, so this is really welcome. Sorry it took me so long!

1. I don't have a formal education in writing other than academic pieces (dissertations, publications, etc), but I think what helped me is "read things aloud". Both for flow and for style, it was so helpful!

2. I learned to not care. If it sounds good to me, I do it. This may sound like bad practice, but Shakespeare made up words, and every theory was made up by someone at some point. If I want to create a new turn of phrase that sounds strange but makes sense to me, I will. This is where being trilingual helps a lot, because I take from multiple languages and find the beauty in each of their structures, so I can import onto another language, like a graft.

In this scene, for example, I use Spanish structure in English, and I think the result is so intense!

She, in all certainty, lacked the will to perceive them as anything other than the sad attempts they made to rule over sacred wilderness rather than form a covenant with it, as she knew Holy, so she hunted and assembled her shelter and supplies out of those carcasses. Bone, sinew and skin were all she needed to survive the inclemencies of Skyrim’s weather.

3. Absolutely! I don't believe you can make anything without your real life influencing you. Art doesn't occur separately from your life, it's inscribed in it and its circumstances. I always learn new things, go through new experiences, meet new people, etc, or even read new things that inspire me! I have a rich life, and so my writing draws from it and is enriched.

4. Don't listen to anyone who says "don't write in an overly flowery way". If you like it, write like that. Do purple prose, abuse the thesaurus, include obscure references to things that only make sense to you. Look for the perfect word. And READ! A writer who does not read (and I'm talking about strong literature, not just things meant for kids and teens, or in-game text) will stagnate. Include Non-fiction In Your Reading Diet. Or else. Non-fiction is so important. Read writing theory, art theory, epistemology, other sciences. Read! Read! READ!

[dogsilliam]

Day 9: Past

This challenge is making me realize i barely have characters, just pretty designs LOL.

Was only able to do some sketches today of what these two might look like/do in the future.

I wrote two pages about their future. And its pretty confusing, their story line isn't pinned down yet. So I imagine their stories ending in two different ways. Either dramatic death by police "Everybody dies" ending. Or the good ending, they live in a cabin in the woods together for the rest of their days.

I'll talk about the change in their looks first. Jeremiah finds confidence in his vampire identity, he shaves his snake tendrils, he's not afraid to show off his vampire ears. He gains a little bit of weight, grows an inch or two. I really like his jet black eyes, but I'm not too sure about the vampire lore in this universe, so his eyes could also be a fun color like purple or some. He's gotta have a face scar from their adventures i just don't know where, hehe. As for jack, I'm still unsure whether he's a natural blonde, or if he dyes his hair blonde so he doesn't look like his father. Either he dyes his hair black, or he lets his natural brown hair grow out. He also has a little stubble, because again he's less afraid of looking like his father. Another thing I'm unsure about in his design is his lip ring, hes supposed to be this macho guy so I don't think he could justify the lip ring. He also has a lot of punk influence though, so maybe thats how he justifies it? Its not gay because its cool and edgy punk. But maybe he gets one at the end of the story. IDK!!! see what i mean when I saw i barely have ocs LMAO nothing is figured out with these two and Ive had them for like 2 and half years now.

I explored the cabin option, bc i love my gay boys and want them happy. They live in this nice isolated cabin, since Jeremiah is the son of the vampire ruler they are living on the border of human land and vampire territory. Jeremiah probably gets delivers of blood from his father, and his father is the one who gave them the cabin. They've adopted three cats, more so jack adopted three cats. I drew up the cats designs, they would have 2 black cats, and one calico. They have batty, who is deaf but has huge ears. Hubert who is older and really beat up. He is missing an eye and an ear. Hubert's like the ring leader of the kitty trio. And then lily who is missing a leg. Jack is reconciling his past by taking care of these messed up creatures. He feels reflected in them, they are broken but he loves and takes care of them. Hubert is his favorite, he has a really rumbling purr.

I imagine their relationship is much better then the early years, falling into a dynamic thats good for the both of them. No more fighting and trying to kill each other, just a symbiotic relationship of Jeremiah drinking jacks blood and jack eating Jeremiah's arms occasionally LOL. Thats what I'm really struggling with, how do u give a happy ending to a delusional psycho cannibal. Jeremiah is very motherly to jack near the end, holds him a lot, kissed his fore head. They've almost switched power dynamics, jack no longer being the lead in the relationship.

I think jack has started to make peace with his homosexuality, he would never say it aloud, but his internal voices have reached an understanding. And by starting the process of dealing with that internalized hatred, he's opened the flood gates to processing all the traumas he been through. I think it would be SO funny if he saw a zoom therapist from their cabin, to understand his childhood trauma. He never tells the therapist about the murders, he still a vigilante about being caught by authorities. Jack spends a lot of time in the woods building those strange forest sculptures. He just spends hours everyday, in pure silence collecting sticks and assembling these huge sculptures. He's stopped popping pills and drinking, but still smokes pretty heavily. He's depressed because he's realizing what he's done to the peoples he's killed. I feel like he wouldn't feel bad about all of them, he still believes he had a right to kill the old men. He doesn't feel bad for the hooker, but the random kid, and the gay men he murdered. His father hurt him and his family so bad, and he's realizing that he wasn't taking power back from the universe he was just doing the exact same thing his father was. Jeremiah keeps him as stable as he can, but he breaks down a couple times, probably tries to commit. Probably tries to turn himself in. But Jeremiah doesn't let him. The story of the cannibal killer stays in news for a long time after. The police are still looking for the culprit. Jack tries not to watch the news, but he does. When he sees the family members talking about how much they want to find the bodies of their loved ones,, he cant handle it. He donates so much money to gofundmes for these familys. I feel like this is such a downer end to their story tho, so its still being work shopped. Like these two boys go on this epic coming of age story, and it ends with major depression hello. I think they could also both just stay delusional and murderous together, and like hunt down the occasional hiker. But IDK.

They still be kissin n shit, they are probably super comfortable with each other since they've spent so much time together. I think it would also be interesting if jack becomes sort of a famous sculpture, and in his old age reveals that he was the cannibal killer. He gets taken into custody, but they don't have any evidence to prove that he he truly is and he gets let go. A homosexual famous sculpture claims he was the cannibal killer from 30 years ago. Jeremiah doesn't age obviously becauses he a vampire. I don't really care about their story after this, I dont want to think about them growing old together and jack eventually dying. That is just sad and uninteresting!

[lowestlayers]

“  what do you see when you look into my eyes?  ” (a meme for jay virginia from joker. masc or femme is up to you.)

He paused in the strokes, the paintbrush in hand hovering over the canvas at the still of his form. Virginia stared at the painting - he knew he specialised in abstract, how people often called it a nonsensical form of art, but this piece really did seem absurd to him, even if it had a certain beauty. He wondered briefly how he found himself here, seated across the Joker who sat behind a thick layer of protective glass and himself behind an easel as if this was a college art class.

"When I.. look into your eyes?" he muttered aloud, staring at the splashes of red, green, and purple. They were ugly colours, even together, but they fitted the clown prince of crime. "When I look into your eyes, I see..."

A monster. A psychopath. A madman. A person that the Gotham City government really should have put on the death sentence long before yesterday.

"Someone beyond saving," he answered at last, gazing over the edge of the canvas, the sharp angles only revealing the smokey fury that simmered just beneath its surface. "Someone who I don't understand why he can still walk on his two feet, basically a free man," he pressed the bristles into thick red acrylic, smearing a fat stripe across a patch of swirling greens and purples, "someone who I really should know better than to insult like this, but I couldn't really afford to care that much about repercussions."

As he stared at the canvas once more, the face of the Joker stared back at him. Yellows, reds, greens, purples, smeared and swirled into the visage of the man behind the glass. No, not man - the thing. The bright red curve of his lips flashed a smile filled with mockery and unbridled glee. And the eyes, oh, he was proud of those. He grasped the edge of the canvas and flipped it over to face his muse.

It was like looking in a mirror. Such cold, empty eyes.

[queen-scribbles]

OC asks #2, 7, 22, 28?

2. which oc has never had their first kiss?

Emiri. Adi's sister Tia and brothers Kisin and Zak(they're still kids though, dunno if they count). And I feel like Josetta's All-work-no-play mindset means she hasn't had a serious enough relationship for a kiss yet.

7. which oc has the most cohesive color palette? the craziest color palette?

I tend to prioritize cohesive color palettes for my characters, definitely within an outfit, and if they become one of my Main OCs they tend to get signature colors I try to stick to for all their outfits(ex. Vikkari's blue-green-purple, Jaaide's deep green, Trinne's red/pink-purple(-green), Tavi's teal and yellow, Adi's pale pink/cornflower blue). So pretty much all of them have a cohesive color palette, I guess the closest some get to "crazy" is maybe one of my alien OCs from SWtOR, where I'm trying to match an outfit to green/blue/orange skin?

22. which oc likes to read to their partner? which oc prefers being read to?

Adi definitely likes to read to Heodan, and also likes it when he reads to her. Emiri doesn't have a romantic partner yet, but she loves reading out loud, usually to Aloth since he's her bff(and the one who taught her to read). Tavi likes to listen to Aloth reading.

Vica and Endrali will both read aloud when Theron or Arcann is in the room but aren't necessarily reading to them.

Jas absolutely loved listening to Tristian reading, now loves listening to him tell stories.

28. which oc would start a podcast? what would it be about?

Adi would start two, one for baking and one for history. Occasionally overshares about her personal life.

Eisza would start one that's stories from bounty hunting. Half of them sound too wild to be true.

Vikkari would start a cooking one, dishes from all the places he's visited. There's usually a story behind how he learned each one.

Kei would have one about weapons and their care, probably goes on semi-regular tangents about "swords don't work that way" or "that's a FARRIER not a BLACKSMITH" etc

Trinne would start one about the different schools of magic and their use/history but either she gets bored and gives it up or she gets shut down for her not-entirely-negative views of entropy and blood magic.

Tragen’s STARTS on some other topic(not sure what), but turns into just being ASMR bc people really just like listening to his voice

Cam(Ryder) would have one that’s super mixed bag. One day it’s weapon stats/breakdown, one day it’s movie critique, one day it’s “SO PEEBEE AND I WERE RUNNING AROUND A VOLCANO YESTERDAY AND-” with frequent guest appearances from PeeBee, Suvi, and Liam

OC Asks

[nycterent]

@rekant left a message: we had some good times, didn’t we?

selina came back to the usual gotham. gotham in chaos, gotham crumbling, gotham as it is any other day of the year, really. if it isn't falling apart, is it even the same city? and during this all, gordon's out of town, or so he said. something about the kids and the wife. so it's just the two of them tonight standing near the signal. the sun is beginning to crawl upwards, turning the horizon purple and pink and orange. he can feel the places he'll have bruises once he peels off the suit, piece by piece, letting them fall to the ground with heavy thunks.

but not now. for now, he is still the bat, and selina is still the cat. he's seen some of the headlines from bludhaven and connected the dots there in the way that the police can't. he knows her tracks.

in short: he missed her. sometimes you don't know an absence is there until something reminds you. until it's fixed and then back again, a hole in the heart that feels twice as large with how new it is. but it can never be as simple as saying that he missed her. it doesn't even feel that simple when he thinks about saying it aloud.

he nods instead. the cape ripples in the wind. "we did." in their ways. good isn't always a simple word with an easy association.

besides, bruce knows that she's pushing what they both know about falcone behind her. it was months ago when he died; it was a lifetime ago when falcone was even anything close to selina's father.

"but i don't think you came back here just to reminisce or to see me." he reaches over with one hand to turn off the signal, the metal so hot that he always has to be careful about where he places his hand, even gloved. it feels like he might walk up here and the entire thing will be half-melted, still humming with electricity but unable to shine out into the dark. "so what do you want, selina? bludhaven wasn't right for you?"

[asu-luv]

Chapter 2

Prostitution is a very common thing nowadays, women who are desperate for cash or just need to pay off their debts thrive in this industry. But these women don't think about the heart breaks they cause for the wives of the men they sleep with, but with my sweet Tashima I would have never thought about him cheating on me. With a sex worker none the less.

We were the perfect couple, we grew up in the same village and became close friends, we were practically inseparable. But of course as we both matured and grown are parents wanted us to marry. At the time I didn't quite care, all the other men in my village were already taken or already put in an arranged marriage so I ended up agreeing to marry my childhood friend.

Hell, now that I'm thinking back what would have happened if I didn't agreed? Perhaps, I would still be single and he would have found his own wife. Would my parents have missed out on the big money they got for marrying me off?

Would I still be in this situation?

I look down at my husband's quivering form his back still oozing blood from the knife wound.

"WHAT THE HELL?! WHAT'S HAPPENING TO YOUR FACE?!"

What is happening? That's a good question. I could feel every vein in my body pulsating and evey muscle growing stronger and something.... coming out of my head?

"A-ahhhh! Aghhhh!"

I heave as I quickly place my hands onto my forehead it feels like something's coming out of my head. "Fuck!" And it hurts like hell, it's like a headache but way worse, I could feel it, the top of my temple expanding as something pointy pokes out.

No matter how much pressure I put on it, it continues to stick out, I feel one of these things stab my hand that's when I reel my hand and stare back down at Tashima his eyes now as wide as saucers.

"M-monster! Beast!" He yells out in horror. His voice stinging my ears.

He's so fucking loud!

I can't even think straight, I don't know what happened but my ears are so sensitive now and I... I can actually smell Asumei's blood all the way from here. It smells so sweet, it's making me drool.

"Get away, don't kill me please!"

"Shut the hell up!"

I go to cover his mouth but I guess I got carried away. I ended up gripping his lips tearing them completely off leaving his bleeding tissue and his fully exposed teeth.

"Naghh!" He screams in pain, "ngh noutf!" (My mouth!)

I throw his lips across the room chuckling lowly, "You look so delicious right now, Tashima."

That... hunger from earlier it came back. I sharply inhale the scent of blood filling my nose. In mere seconds my eyes gloss over, I don't know what came over me but all I remember is gripping Tashima by his neck and hearing a sickening sound of skin tearing and bone crunching

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

. What have I done?

I stare at Tashima and Asumei's dismembered bodies chucks taken out of them. Did I really eat them? Everything went by so fast, the last thing I heard was Tashima's screaming, or at least his call for help.

I stare at their bodies all night, until the sunlight painted the house, light shoning in through the windows casting a warm glow over the bloodied bodies. I look down at my hands, completely red but something is different, my nails appear more sharp almost claw like. I guess that's how I ripped them apart so easily.

Your nails almost looked normal but they were now longer and the tips of them we're a dark shade of purple. You gaze at the corpses until the sun completely covers the kitchen, as the sun shines in light falls onto your form and suddenly you start to feel a burning sensation throughout your body.

You look down towards your fingers which where in the suns rays starting to turn to ash, you quickly reel away into a dark corner where the sun could not reach. After seeking shelter in the corner your fingers start to heal, the burning sensation now fading.

"I-i can't touch the sun?" you say aloud, as if someone is listening. You evidently decide to stay in the dark corner for the rest of the day, in fear that you will disintegrate in the sun.

Whlie residing in the dark space your mind wanders to what you have become, you remember your now dead husband calling you a monster. Have you really become such a thing? You bring your hand to rest on your temple, you feel something hard it's slightly rugged and the tips are sharp.

Horns?

You reach over into the lower cabinet beside you, pulling out a pan that somehow in the dark space you managed to see your reflection.

Your usual brown skin is scarred with dark circles under your eyes, two large horns can be seen shrouding out of your head leaving even darker scars along your forehead (an: your horns are similar to the Hantengu clones).

Your eyes are now lacking their usual golden brown now it's replace with a darkened pink hue, you raise your finger against your lip revealing your sharp fangs which were recently used to tear into the flesh of Asumei and Tashima. You place the pan down sighing to yourself.

"I'm really am a monster."

You reposition yourself in a way where your knees tuck into your body, so now you can rest your head on your knees and let your tears fall.

"W-what am I gonna do? Oh gosh, t-the village will kill me for what I have done."

You take a deep breath your throat growing dry.

"I'm a murderer.... What would mother and father think?"

I'll be casted aside as their daughter, I will forever be known as a monster to them.

You lay your head back against the cabinet of the darkened space resting your hands against your sore eyes. You stay in that position all day thinking about your next move. Will you run away, deciding to never see any of your loved ones again? Or continue to feast on the bodies infront of you?

Ugh, no they look cold and blue. Files are all around them now.

Or you could kill yourself, it seems like the better choice regarding this whole situation. Who would want a ravenous beast with a crazed hunger for human flesh around anyway?

"Man, but I do like living though."

You groan, conflicted with your made up decisions.

"I'll have to run away." You decide on the safer option.

You remove your hands from your eyes seeing that the sun has set. You can finally roam free. Going with your decision to run away you begin to pack your belongings, but not before leaving a note, you'd thought that someone will eventually come looking for you and your husband. Although, you do not have a plan for the two bodies though.

Eh, not my problem

You go into the closet deciding on wearing the kimono your mother had recently bought for you. You'd thought it would be pretty suspicious if you ran out the house in bloodied clothes, also this one will help you blend into the darkness of the night.

"Now what about these..."

You look into the mirror poking at your very noticable horns.

"Oh!" Hidden under a plie of clothes you find your old Wagasa, you used it frequently to beat the summer's blazing sun. It'll be perfect for hiding them, it also might protect you from the sun but you're not about to taking that risk.

You go back into the kitchen, casually stepping over the bodies to fix yourself some tea. After the things you've seen and done you really need it. This is your favorite type of tea, you and your mother used to drink it together everytime you spent time together. It's made with some type of flower and a few other herbs, your mother hand picked the ingredients herself. You recall her saying that this type of flower only bloomed in the daylight. Now what was it called?

Ah, it was called the Blue Spider Lily.

Doctor's would often use this flower to treat gastric ulcers, wounds, and respiratory problems. But you just liked the taste of it. After gulping down your tea you feach a piece of paper, a pen, and an inkwell to write your goodbye letter.

~~~

To whom ever is reading this I am long gone, I left this place in the middle of the night in fear of what I've become... either I'm a monster or beast I can not stay in the village. I'm sure you've seen the disgusting massacre on the kitchen floor, you're probably wandering what attacked? Well, it was me I still don't know how but something drove me to this terrible state and now I must go. Please inform my parents that their daughter is no longer here. She'd turned into a cannibal, a murder, A Demon.

Farewell,

Y/n L/n ♡

You place the note next to the basket of sweets from the other day. Looking over at them you think to yourself,

Might as well

You pick up a mochi taking a bite, the usual soft outer dough now hard after sitting out in the open over night. No matter, you take a bite struggling until you swallowed. But you spat it back up, letting out a few wet coughs,

"I guess I can't eat normal food."

Coming to that new realization you make your way to the door ready to await your new journey, ready to start a new life as a Demon.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Words: 1639

[prittyvenus]

The Medium and the Nameless Ghouls

Case file 004-7 Omega file Saltarian's Return

After Phil and Terzo told the truth about what happened to them in the clergy. Sara and Phil join forces with Omega to help him find the truth and her secrets. Only to find out there's a bigger threat going after Terzo and Copia. Can they find out what is happening in the Clergy?

Primo yelled at Sara "La mia cara nipote. Why would you say something awful like that?"

Sara yelled back at Primo, "Look. I don't make the rules here. As an officer, I can't intervene."

"You are his family. He is your great-grandfather's bastard son! Your great uncle! La mia nipotina. Don't you understand that?"

"Look, he's not my problem! I understand that he's family. I'm not going to take care of him. He can take care of himself!" Sara told Primo. "I have enough on my plate. I have to deal with other people's messes and not getting anything in return. Including those within my own family!"

Primo looks at Sara. "I know that being the oldest child is hard..."

"I never said that I was the oldest, and I wasn't talking about how hard it is being the caregiver. Grandpa, I'm sorry. My answer is no. I'm not going to become someone's wife or mother."

Phil entered the doorway. "Look, Master Primo. There are rules that cops have to follow." Phil told Primo. "She can help him with getting Sister off his back. But Copia has to do the rest through a lawyer. Plus, she can't handle cases that have to deal with family. Those cases have to be given to another officer. The reason why she's saying 'not my problem' is she isn't aloud to help."

Primo looked disappointed and sighed. "Very well, the least you can do is apologize to Copia for what you said. It did cause him to be upset."

Sara sighs. "Fine, I go and apologize."

Primo smiles "That's my piccolo dolce nipotino." He pinched Sara's cheek and leaves the room.

"What on earth did I get myself into?" Sara complains. Sara looks at Phil. "Sorry for dragging you into this."

Phil nods at Sara. "It's okay. Primo is always taking care of others before himself. Especially when it comes to family. I have to let him know not everyone is on the same footing."

"Thanks. I owe you."

Phil bows. "You're welcome. If you're going to pay me back. You can get me a Starbucks coffee. Regular coffee doesn't do it for me."

She goes back to the office and sees the ghouls hogging the doughnuts. "Really?"

Sodo takes a Boston Cream doughnut from the box and places it in a napkin. "This one is for Dewdrop. Aether, come with me to see him."

"Aether and Sodo, you stay here," Sara told Sodo. "You are under arrest, remember? Your brother doesn't like Aether. Dewdrop gets really angry when Aether is around him."

Sodo looks at Aether. "Aether, did you keep calling my twin brother 'baby doll'?" Sodo hair starts to flame up.

Aether panicked, "Shut up, I only called him Baby Doll once! Right, Sara?"

"He called him that four times in front of me. I had to kick him out of Dewdrop's room. So I can get his testimony about the bishop. Copia was next to Dewdrop to comfort him."

Copia screams from downstairs. Gunshots can be heard throughout the hall.

Sara, Markus, and the ghouls run to the main hall to see Copia getting kidnapped by Mr. Saltarian in his demon form.

"Master Copia!" The ghouls rushed to his aide. Copia fought hard, but Saltarian won't budge. Omega grapples Saltarian. Markus uses his magic to hold him in place. Aether, Sodo, and Swiss grab Copia and then take him to safety. Sara brings her automatic pistol and fires at Saltarian. Phill uses his wings and flies up to punch Saltarian in the face.

Saltarian grabs Phil's face. "Facing me is your biggest mistake, weakling." Phil starts clawing at Saltarian and pulls a pendent from his neck. When Saltarian tosses Phil, Phil drops the pendent and breaks it. A purple light got out and flew off to the upper rooms.

Omega lifted Saltarian over his head and did a Supplex on him. Saltarian was pissed and used his energy to steal Omega's power. Omega's smokey hair starts to turn physical and white. His skin turns from black to dark gray. Sara dunked a magazine full of bullets into a jar of holy water. She takes it out and reloads her gun. Sara and the other officers shot at Saltarian till they ran out of bullets.

Saltarian flies up into the air. "You may have won this round. Next time, you won't be so lucky." Saltarian flew away. Markus can't believe that his spell has no effect on Saltarian.

"What kind of demon did she make a pack with?" Sara comforts Markus.

"Don't worry about it. My dad will be here tomorrow with my grandmother's stone. Also, we have three papas on our side."

"Two, cousin. Copia has not consented yet. Terzo's soul has been shattered."

"What about Nihil? Is he willing to help?"

"No, he is stubborn and more hard-headed than Secondo and Terzo."

Sara remembers something. "Markus, when Copia was giving me a car ride to the clergy, Nihil asked me about my family after I showed Nihil my left eye." Markus's eyes widen. "If I tell him about my family, he might be able to help us."

"Okay. Nihil is resting in Emeritus mausoleum. Just be careful that the area is highly guarded. Only Copia and Sister Imperator have access to the mausoleum. But don't worry, as Director of the clergy, I grant you permission to see him."

"Make sure you put it in writing. So that I can put it on file." Markus nods at Sara and starts to head to the office.

One of the officers hears crying and whimpering from a closet in Terzo's old bedroom. The officer knocks and hears a gasp. "Is everything okay in there?"

The voice yelled out, "No, everything is not okay!"

The officer brings out his walkie-talkie. "Somebody get Sara to the upper floors in one of the bedrooms. I found another one." Sara and Phil ran up the stairs and to Terzo's old bedroom. Sara sees the officer pulling a gun at the closet. Sara signals the officer to put the gun away. The officer puts the gun back in his holster.

Sara walks up to the closet, "Hello? Are you okay? Do you want to talk?"

The voice cried out. "No, I just want to be alone right now."

"That's Terzo," Sara whispered.

Phil smiles like he has an idea. "I understand, Master. I will just tell them about Omega... Jizzing on your Whopper."

Sara and the officer's eyes widen. The closet door slams open. Terzo is wearing a pink shirt and a white vest. It was another of his soul fragments. "Phil, I told you not to talk about that! Jizz on my Whopper. It was one time, and it was only for the fans!" Sara and the officer laugh at what Phil meant. "Okay. So I'm gay for Omega, So what!"

"Talking about 'coming out of the closet.'" The officer laughs, "No, pun intended."

Sara clears her throat. "Okay, let us get you to the others downstairs so you can tell us about what happened to you. Not the Jizz on the Whopper story."

"Okay, Let's go. We're going to have a long talk later, Phil." Phil shrugs and follows Terzo to the main hall. They met up with the officers about a plan for what to do with Saltarian and Sister Imperator.

Case file closed

Case file contents

[countlessrealities]

Morty's birthday asks || @moonspower sent:

Due to a schedule a bit too jam packed for his own liking, Virote couldn't give Morty his gift personally. But, he left it with Jerry to place on the table for whenever Morty was able to give it a looksee. The offerings were thoughtful—and, simple—enough. The biggest gift was a dozen strawberry cupcakes piped with buttercream frosting, dried strawberries sprinkled on the tops. They were in a paisley-patterned, multicolor cardboard box with a golden bow slapped on top. The next gift, with a note attached, was a hefty chunk of gemstone.

The gemstone had a warm, canary yellow base with purple undertones and fiery red highlights. Depending on how it was held in the light, sometimes there was a bit of a green duochrome shimmer. Then, there was the notecard. It said:

Hey, Morty! Happy birthday! You seem to really like my baking, so I made you some cupcakes. Don't horf them down all at once, okay? Anyway, this beautiful rock is a gemstone called Duskfire and it's native to my kingdom. It's supposed to bring luck, happiness, and bravery. I wish all of these things for you and I really, really hope you enjoy your day. Take care and visit me soon!

Vi! ☆

The presents from the Moon Kingdom greeted Morty when he arrived back home from school, as he would do every other day. Birthdays weren't a big deal in their family, his own perhaps even less than the others. Sure, he got cake after dinner and presents from his parents and sister, but that was it.

Since Rick had entered in the picture, things had gotten a little better, since the two of them now had their own birthday rituals. The deal was that they were supposed to be fun and his grandfather actually tried to make them such, but you could never know when you were breathing the same air of Rick Sanchez.

One could have argued that, at least, they were never boring, but with the life he lived, Morty wasn't sure that it counted as a good thing.

The teen stopped his tracks at the sight of the two perfectly wrapped boxes innocently sitting in the middle of the kitchen table. He didn't even have to ask if they were from one of his relatives. Jerry would have never invested in such an expensive-looking wrapping paper, Beth wasn't that good at making packages and the colours that Summer picked were usually much brighter. As for Rick, he never wrapped presents.

Blinking, Morty approached the table, throwing out a distracted greetings at his father while keeping his gaze on the gifts. One look at the cupcakes, and he could immediately tell whom they were from, even before seeing the stone and reading the note.

No one could make sweets look like pieces of art as Virote did.

"W-Wow," he breathed out, eyes widening. He had seen, and tasted, plenty of the Moon king's creations and yet he couldn't help being amazed by them every time like the first. He just couldn't wrap his head around how someone could be so skilled.

And in so many things.

"Uh, I-I guess that Mom won't have to b-bake a cake for tonight, a-am I right?" He commented out aloud with a chuckle, more because he wanted to give himself a distraction from the strong urge to pick one up and bite into it right away than because he cared to hear what Jerry might have to say.

He still shot his Dad a look from above his shoulder, before counting the cupcakes to check that there none was missing. If he was being tempted to snatch one out, his father could have been too. And the man had been there, alone with those culinary masterpieces, for who knows how long.

Once he was sure that no baked goodies was missing, he moved to the second present, reading the note carefully before picking up the gem. Once again, the boy found himself mesmerised, this time by the gorgeous colours and shimmering. Rick might be the one obsessed with crystals between them, but Morty would have lied if he had said that he hadn't spent a few minutes too long admiring some of those that the scientist jealously kept stored away.

His fingertips gently traced the smooth surface of the gem. Luck, happiness, and bravery? He didn't really believe into that kind of thing, not anymore, but he could have used all three of them.

With a small smile, he pocketed the stone and the note, making sure not to crease the latter. He would have to thank Virote in person the next time they would visit and make sure to mention properly how much he had appreciated the gifts and how lucky he felt to have the other's friendship.

Or, maybe, if he could manage to steal Rick's portal gun for two minutes, he could have sent him a "thank you" card. Whatever happened first.