#so its like a mixture of a human body and a non-human mind put into physical form

[fenhonig-art]

piece about having body dysphoria because of being a system and not identifying with the body and also dissociation from that

[signed-loni]

How they react to you being pregnant!

Characters include : Sal Fisher, Larry Johnson, larry isnt in this, and im working on his part rn :)

everyones alive in this, and its AGED UP ofc so sal isn’t a murderer in this :)

Sal

When i tell you this man is in a state of shock with a mixture of happiness, he almost passes out.

Its such an overwhelming feeling for sal to know that he and you created a mini human

You and him both, ofc, told EVERYONE.

Im talkin Larry knew, Ash knew, Todd knew, your parents knew, Lisa and Henry knew, fuck even GIZMO knew.

Everyone showered you both with praises and things like “im so proud of you both!” And some other things like “congrats!”

It made you happy to know that you and Sal were going to start a family. Ofc, you were somewhat scared, and so was Sal. But it was okay since your happiness overrode the feeling of unease:)

And trust me when i say, Sal is catering to your every need, HE IS ZOOMING AROUND THE FUCKING HOUSE TO GET YOU YOUR SLIPPERS SO YOUR FEET ARENT COLD😭

He really doesn’t mind the funny craving or the mood swings

What does kinda get him is the morning sickness

I dont portray Sal as a morning person, so waking up early in the morning to hold your hair back while you blow chunks isnt his favorite way to wake up

Nonetheless, he still does it because, its you ofc, and he loves you, like legitimately is head over heels

Every night, this man would cuddle you and whisper sweet nothings into your ear, praising you about everything you were doing. Saying things like “you’re going to be such a good mother, sweetheart”

When your water broke, this man was STRESSED. Like he was good at hiding it, but his body betrayed him and soon enough, bro was sweating BULLETS😭😭

He eased you through your labor and did those breathing exercises with you, calming you down

When the baby was born, LEMME TELL YOU, this man was so emotional that he started crying, without even fucking realizing it💀

Once you both get home, this man is doing EVERY 👏 THING👏👏👏

Feeding the baby, burping it, putting it to sleep, and to top it off, still giving you the attention and care you need (I stg he is such a fucking cinnamon roll😭)

He’s the kind of dad who plays with his child non stop. Like making it laugh, playing with the little baby toys it has, omfg its so cute🥹

When the baby said his first word? Tears.

When its first word was papa? On the floor.

When it took its first steps? Sobbing.

I swear this man is more emotional than you when you were pregnant after you gave birth🥲

He loves to show you off to Ash and Larry. Proudly boasting that you and him created a mini version of yourselves.

When the baby was born, Sal was so happy to see his baby with the same blue hair as him, it was so cute😭

Will legit do anything this kid asks. Pick it up, play with it, do its hair, and omg does he love to do its hair

Overall, Sal would be such a sweet dad, like, cavity inducing sweet😭

SORRY THIS WAS SO SHORT, I DIDNT HAVE A LOT OF IDEAS FOR THIS😭😭

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Drown In My Desire

also on ao3

written for the Monster March prompt list prompt: siren pls see ao3 for the full list of tags, this is... something edit: some formatting got fucked up and I had to make some adjustments, sorry if there are any wonky bits now 😅

Geralt is barely off the boat back from Skellige when he hears about the contract. There's a lone Siren causing trouble along one of the trading routes; drawing the ships closer until they wreck on the jagged rocks of the bay. The fishermen complain loudly about it as he disembarks and as soon as his feet hit dry land, Geralt makes straight for them. It's basic Siren behaviour, likely to be an easy job and then back on his way.

The men are offloading barrels and Geralt keeps out of the way as he approaches the one giving orders.

"Heard you've got a Siren problem," he says and the man straightens up to look him over.

"Aye, we do. You're a Witcher, right? You'll take care of it for us?"

"What are you offering?"

"Godsdamn anything at this point. Things wrecked six shops, we've lost 11 good men, countless hours of labour... Name your price, Witcher, we'll pay it."

"Five hundred," Geralt suggests.

"Fine by me. Bring back proof of the kill and you'll get your coin."

"Agreed." Normally, Geralt would request half in advance, but he's dealt with Novigradian merchants before and they're reputable and trustworthy most of the time. Plus, this is a simple contract, probably not even worth the 500 he asked for.

He stays to get the rest of the details from the merchant, then heads into town to rent a room at the Kingfisher. He won't be in town long, but he may as well have somewhere comfortable to sleep when he inevitably comes back cold and wet.

Geralt bribes a local fisherman to take him out to the bay or as close to it as possible - no one will go right in any longer. They moor on the far side and Geralt disembarks, thanking the man and paying him a generous fee for his service. He didn't have to bring him out here, and many other men wouldn't dare go this far.

He hears the song immediately and it makes him pause. Geralt has heard the Siren song before, has even fallen under its spell in the past, and this is not it. This is a Siren, for sure, and he is singing, but his song is... sad. Geralt frowns as he makes his way over the swell of the hill, the beach sprawling out before him in a wide arc.

It's sandy, devoid of rocks and debris but the tide is down and large, jagged rocks break the surface of the water. Waves roll up gently onto the shore and Geralt scans the shoreline, looking for any sign of the Siren. The song is coming from the far side of the small bay, but he sees nothing.

Readjusting the belts across his chest, he makes his way down to the beach and across the sand.

He spots him shortly, tucked under a shelf of rock out of the sun, curled around himself. Geralt thinks at first, that he may be injured, hence the despair in his song, but as he approaches he recognizes a sense of desperation in the tune. Approaching further, he catches the creature's interest and he looks up at him, his confusion a mixture of desperation and fear and resignation. Geralt looks him over as he approaches, not trusting the Siren not to jump out and attack. He knows well enough they're crafty and wouldn't stop short of setting a trap in dire situations.

But when Geralt is within a few feet, the Siren still makes no sign of wanting to hurt him. If anything, he looks miserable to have been discovered and Geralt does a quick once-over for injuries. There are none visible, but as the Siren unfurls himself, stretching out to his full length, Geralt pauses.

He doesn't know a lot about Siren anatomy past what a sorcerer will pay for what, but he's seen enough pricks in his life to know one when he sees it.

Jaskier whines internally and shuts up as soon as he sees the figure approaching. He was trying to attract... well, not him. Not a Witcher. He needs someone to solve his problem, not to be killed as the solution to someone else’s. But maybe that would be better than going through this every five years out here alone. Maybe the Witcher will be kind and put him out of his misery and then- well, at least he wouldn't be stuck here on his own like this.

But the man approaches and doesn't do anything. He just looks, walking closer until Jaskier could nearly reach out and touch him. Slowly, as non-threateningly as he can, he uncoils himself to prove he's not a threat. His cock aches and he's reminded of the fact that it's very blatantly on display, but that's the least of his problems now.

"You're the one who's been wrecking ships?" the Witcher asks and well, yes, Jaskier assumes that's his fault.

He's seen the wreckage washing up on shore, seen the men floating lifeless amongst the waves. He tries to help, but in this state, it's impossible to do much before the burning need overtakes him again and he's rendered useless.

"I didn't-" he starts, but he doesn't think a Witcher will care whether he meant to or not. He just wants a companion, wants someone to help ease this ache as his own attempts aren't helping any longer, he didn't mean for the humans to get in the way.

"Didn't what?"

"Didn't mean for them to get hurt." Jaskier doesn't look at him, but the Witcher is quiet for some time and then,

"It’s... a mating song?" he guesses and something in Jaskier’s stomach twists uncomfortably that he could figure it out so quickly. Jaskier avoids his eyes looking instead at the way the sand coats the toes of his boots.

"Why don't you tell me what happened?"

Jaskier's head snaps up at that and he looks the Witcher dead in the eye. He's never heard of a monster being given a chance to tell their side of the story, to redeem themself. The Witcher drops to the sand, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his thighs.

"I-" Jaskier starts, unsure if this is some sort of twisted game. "I just- I was hoping someone might be nearby to hear-" he feels pathetic, his only consolation the fact that the Witcher doesn't know that he came here willingly, he left his family willingly to go out and explore the vast oceans and now he’s miserable.

"How long have you been here?" the Witcher asks, "you've never caused problems before now."

"Before now I wasn't-" he rolls his eyes in frustration at himself, slapping his tail against the sand. "Sirens," he starts again, "go through cycles. I'm in heat and I'm alone and every attempt I've made to reach out has only ended in ruin." Jaskier scowls at his own confession.

"I tried to help," he adds solemnly, "I just... I can't focus, I don't have the strength to pull them to the surface- I tried," he persists, "but I'm not much use like this." His cock aches and he groans at the timing. "I hardly think that deserves a death sentence." He wraps his tail protectively around himself, hiding the evidence of his situation.

"Not here to hurt you," the Witcher explains, "just here to keep people from dying. I could... help?"

Jaskier starts at the offer, his wings snapping tight against his back. "What do you mean, help?"

The Witcher huffs a light laugh and Jaskier tries not to be too hopeful. He's never strayed beyond his race, though he knows many who have and if he were to, well, the Witcher isn't awful to look at. In fact, Jaskier thinks, taking in his shining golden eyes and shock-white hair tied back in a loose bun, he’s quite lovely.

"Now, I know you're not stupid," the Witcher says, almost sounding amused. "The offer’s there. I'll help if you stop with the singing."

Maybe it's the need coursing through him, or maybe it's the fact that no one has ever been so kind to him before, or maybe there's just something about this man's smile that makes him weak. Jaskier agrees.

"Not here," he says. "Can you swim?" The Witcher cocks an eyebrow at him. "I'd prefer not to have to do this out in the open where anyone could just wander upon us. I do have some sense of decorum."

"Where are we going?"

"Home," Jaskier says simply. "It's not far." He shifts in the sand, sitting up and gesturing out toward the sea. "A human could make the swim, surely a Witcher can as well."

"Fair enough. I'm Geralt, by the way. And I can swim."

"Jaskier."

He squirms in the sand, trying to force his cock to withdraw, but it's no use. Geralt rises, kicking off his boots and removing his gear, tucking it away into a crevice in the rock. He bends down, scooping Jaskier into his arms. It's a shock and Jaskier is helpless to do anything but wind his arms around Geralt's neck and hold on, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the way his cock juts out obscenely, betraying him.

Geralt walks into the waves, releasing Jaskier as soon as the water is up to his waist. He holds his breath, lets Jaskier take his hand, and follows him down beneath the surf. Jaskier feels marginally better out of the sun and sand, in the cool water, but not much. He swims quickly, eager to return home and get on with... whatever Geralt has in mind to help.

He ducks into the narrow tunnel, dropping Geralt's hand and gesturing for him to follow behind. He does, and Jaskier leads the way back to an underwater cave. Glowing coral grows near the ledge of rock, where the water gives way to open air again. It gives off a little light, but Jaskier can see perfectly well and he knows Witchers have night vision.

He slips up onto the stony cave floor and offers a webbed hand to Geralt as he breaks the surface. To Geralt's credit, he only seems a little out of breath as he's hauled up out of the water.

Jaskier flops back on his side, watching the way Geralt rises to his feet, tugging his soaked shirt off and wringing the water from it. His trousers remain in place and Jaskier finds himself disappointed, curious to see what's hidden beneath. But this isn't a fun romp for the sake of it; this is an agreement, Geralt is simply doing him a favour.

When he seems pleased with the state of his shirt, Geralt lays it out and lies down next to him, lining his body up with Jaskier's. He's... stunning up close and it takes more of his effort than it should not to simply reach out and touch him just for the sake of it. He remembers fucking other Sirens, the touching, the press of bodies - he misses it, and he finds himself wishing this was something more than a simple favour. But that's selfish; Geralt is already offering him so much, for so little in return and nothing, even, for himself.

"You'll have to walk me through it," Geralt says with a smile, "I've never fucked a Siren before."

"Oh. You can just... touch me?" Jaskier says and Geralt reaches out tentatively, slipping a hand over the swell of his hip.

"Like this?"

Jaskier nods. It's not exactly what he wants, but it does feel nice and he's not about to try and direct. Geralt's hesitation is short-lived and he slides his hand up Jaskier's chest, brushing his thumb over a nipple and Jaskier's breath catches. He watches the movement of Geralt's hand as his fingers press into his skin, warm, despite the swim through cool water.

He shifts slightly, leaning up on one arm and pressing back down, over the swell of Jaskier's hip and he tugs him forward before abruptly before dragging his fingers up the length of Jaskier's swollen cock. He's slow, but delicate like he's learning his way around, but it feels incredible and it's hard for Jaskier not to just thrust up into the touch and take the pleasure from his hands.

Geralt's fingers slip over the ridge at the base of him, curling around him beneath it and squeezing as he pulls up over it.

"What is this?" he asks. He sounds intrigued, curious, and Jaskier can't help but indulge him.

"'S hard to fuck underwater," he hums, moaning as Geralt's fingers reach the tip of his cock. One dips into the slit, pressing against it, and Jaskier whimpers. "Keeps me from... slipping out." The noise Geralt makes in response is hard to determine, but it sounds interested. He moves his hand back down to squeeze around the ring.

His fingers slip over the swell of skin, pressing against it and running his thumb along the edge. He likes it, Jaskier realizes. It prods at something inside him and he presses his hips forward encouragingly.

"Does that feel good?" Geralt asks and Jaskier nods, pressing his forehead against his arm to keep from moaning out loud. He wants to show his appreciation, wants Geralt to know he can do as he pleases with him, but he doesn't want to push too hard.

Geralt’s light touches grow bolder, pressing more firmly, jerking him quickly and firmly and as Jaskier whines and squirms beneath him, Geralt grows more confident. His fingers slip down, pressing between the folds of his sheath, pressing right down to the base of his cock and within. No one has touched him like this before, the sharp jab of a Siren's claws not conducive to pressing inside.

Something warm spreads through his chest and he finds himself pulling away, embarrassed by how vulnerable he suddenly feels letting a stranger touch him this way, a Witcher no less. Immediately, Geralt withdraws his hands and the look on his face implies worry.

"Sorry," he blurts, then softer, "tell me if it's too much."

"No, I just. No one's ever-"

"I'll stop."

"No," Jaskier says again, a little too abruptly. "No, it was good, it just... caught me off guard." Geralt doesn't wait to be told twice, but his fingers move more slowly as they slip back into place at the base of his cock. Jaskier gives a little thrust on encouragement and Geralt presses his palm against him, giving him something to rut against while he explores.

Jaskier rocks against him, burying his face in his arm as the need takes over. Given an inch, he's no longer able to control himself, so needy for it that he's invited a perfect stranger into his home to fuck him. But Geralt doesn't seem to mind his desperation, doesn't mention it. He picks up quickly on Jaskier's most sensitive spots, going back to rub over them, pressing his thumb beneath the swollen ring and Jaskier's mind goes blank with the pleasure of it.

He's never noticed how sensitive it is there; the use of hands in Siren coupling is rare and limited to squeezing and jerking, not prodding and rubbing like Geralt does so easily. It's hardly Jaskier's fault that he can't contain himself in the face of this new, wonderful sensation.

The swell of his climax creeps up on him slowly, his mind too preoccupied with where Geralt's fingers are and what they're doing. It's not until Geralt wraps around the base of him, pushing as far into his sheath as his fingers with reach, that Jaskier realizes how close he is. His hips jerk hard and Geralt's other hand shoots out to steady him, holding him close as Jaskier writhes against him.

There's not much else he can do like this, just squirm and try to press as much of his cock against Geralt's palm as he can. Otherwise, he's under Geralt's control, letting him do what he wants, take him apart as he will. Geralt's thumb presses along the underside of his cock, pressing up toward the tip and Jaskier jerks hard as his orgasm washes over him, spilling over Geralt's hand and up his arm.

His hips twitch, cocking slipping easily against Geralt's arm with his own spend to slick the way. He'd be embarrassed, coming so quickly with so little stimulation to anything but his cock, but Geralt hums, sounding very pleased.

He continues touching him, fingers slipping through his spend and using it as slick, rubbing down the full length of him and rubbing against the slit at the tip.

"Good?" he asks and Jaskier can only nod and whimper, still struggling to catch his breath.

Geralt leans in, pressing his nose into Jaskier's neck abruptly and Jaskier shifts onto his back to allow him better access. He likes the warmth of Geralt's breath on his neck, the soft press of his lips and the occasional flick of his tongue against his skin. Geralt says nothing as his kisses become firmer, pressing down the column of his throat and down his chest.

His hand remains on Jaskier's cock, stroking slowly as he kisses down the length of his body, not even pausing as pale skin gives way to shimmering scales. He seems unbothered by it and Jaskier likes the feeling of his lips on his tail. Geralt doesn't release his cock until he's moved fully down the length of Jaskier's body, straddling the end of his tail.

Geralt kisses around the base of his cock, not touching it but for the barest brush of his cheek as he passes. Jaskier holds his breath in anticipation, arching off the bed with each kiss that gets closer to where he wants it. When Geralt's lips finally press against him, he lets out a strangled groan and arches off the ground, hands immediately and automatically groping for Geralt's shoulder.

Geralt kisses up the length of him, teasing the tip with his tongue before moving back down again. Jaskier wants his mouth, wants to feel that wet heat around him, so different than the cool touch of one of his own kind. It wouldn't be the first time he's had a mouth around his cock, but he's used to sharp teeth, to slow and cautious strokes. When Geralt gets his mouth around him, he's anything but.

The moment Geralt's lips wrap around him, quick and eager, sliding his tongue over him and pressing his lips in close, holding him tight as he sinks right to the base. His tongue presses in where his fingers had been and Jaskier knows now that he likes exploring, likes discovering what makes Jaskier squirm and taking advantage of it. And he's incredibly good at it.

His fingers that had, up until now, been happily settled on his hips, push up to brush against his skin. One hand remains, seeking out the smallest part of his waist and settling in the dip as the other moves down again. Jaskier's foggy mind suggests that he intends to wrap around the base of his cock, but Geralt gets distracted somewhere between. His fingers pass over Jaskier’s slit and he pauses. Slowly, Gerlt lifts his head, licking up the length of Jaskier's cock and looking at the opening beneath his fingers.

"Can I?" he asks and Jaskier nods.

This is... new. He knows for women it can be pleasurable to be touched this way, but he's never had anyone do it to him. As a child, they told stories about men who fucked each other like this, the way they fuck women, but Jaskier had been young and naive and passed them off as nothing but stories. He'd never found anyone who wanted to touch him that way and had assumed, like most things children talk about, it was a rumour.

But Geralt's fingers tease the opening and sparks rush over his skin. Jaskier's cock throbs and he pushes himself up to watch. Geralt catches his eyes for a brief moment, before dropping back to his work and pushing inside.

"Oh," he breathes, "you're wet." Jaskier squirms, as his body gives way to Geralt's finger, quickly joined by a second.

As with everything, he moves slowly at first, pushing deep and rubbing into him. It feels good, much better than Jaskier could have expected and then Geralt bumps against something inside him and Jaskier cries out, digging his claws into Geralt's shoulder.

When he realizes what he's done, he releases him quickly, but Geralt seems unfazed and he's smiling when he meets Jaskier's eyes again.

"You like that?" he asks and Jaskier lets out a breathy, yes. Geralt grins at him and ducks down to wrap his lips around the tip of Jaskier's cock.

Geralt's fingers work in time with his mouth, picking up speed as Jaskier's groans become more frequent, less controlled. It doesn't take him long like this, with his cock slipping down Geralt's throat and Geralt's fingers constantly pressing against whatever that is inside him that feels so fucking good.

He comes with a gasp as Geralt thrusts up into him again and Geralt makes no attempt to keep him from pushing his cock deeper into his throat. If anything, he seems glad for it, and when Jaskier slumps back against the ground again, Geralt pulls off his cock with slow precision, careful to wrap his lips tightly around the head. Jaskier's eyes drop shut and his chest heaves, but he's aware of Geraly lying back down next to him.

"That felt... good."

"No one has ever touched you like this?" Geralt asks lightly. Jaskier waves a clawed hand at him in response. "Mmm, understandable. But you liked it?" Jaskier huffs a tired laugh and turns to face him.

"Very much."

"Can I?" Geralt asks, already sliding slick fingers along his waist.

"Please."

Geralt rises to his knees, straddling Jaskier's hips for a moment before dropping to the ground on the other side of him. He presses right up against him, slipping an arm under his neck and holding him close as his other hand presses flat against Jaskier's stomach, sliding downward. He crooks two fingers, pushing inside him and seeking out that same spot again.

He finds it with ease and when Jaskier jerks hard, Geralt pulls him in against his chest. He drops his forehead to Jaskier's, breathing hard against him and Jaskier shuts his eyes, letting the pleasure wash over him. Geralt thrusts into him, quick and precise, then slows to tease at the opening, fingers slipping slowly in and out, and Jaskier can't decide which he likes more.

When he's quick, it punches the breath out of him, leaves him mindless and aching for more, but then he slows, gently caresses and rubs into him and it's like a slow fire burning within him, gradually burning brighter. His mind goes blank, foggy with lust, and he wraps himself around Geralt's shoulders, drawing him close. Even with Jaskier wrapped around him, he never falters and before long Jaskier is writhing again, his tail slapping hard against the floor as pleasure courses through him.

He's overwhelmed, so entirely encompassed by pleasure that he can't do more than cling to Geralt and whimper until, at last, he comes, his cock untouched where it spurts over his hip.

Slick drips from his slit, mixing with his come and Geralt pulls out slowly, swiping his fingers through it and sliding them around Jaskier's cock. He cries out at the first touch, oversensitive from multiple consecutive orgasms, but it still feels good underneath the sensitivity and he can't bring himself to tell Geralt to stop.

When Geralt finally lets him go, Jaskier flops onto his back and stares up at him. Geralt is watching him, his eyes dark but bright, and he smiles. Unthinking, Jaskier reaches up, wrapping one hand around Geralt's cheek and tugging him down toward him. At the last second, he realizes what he's doing and hesitates, but Geralt closes the distance, pressing their lips together in a gentle kiss.

It doesn't last long and Jaskier has to keep himself from nipping at his lips when they part. Geralt presses up close and for the first time, he feels the hard line of Geralt's cock beneath his trousers and it makes his breath catch. For a moment, he just stares at him, enthralled by the idea that Geralt is turned on by this.

"You're... aroused?" he asks and Geralt huffs a soft laugh.

"I'm fine."

"Could I touch you?"

"Mmm, if you like."

Jaskier grins, shifting onto his side and pushes Geralt over. He laughs and goes easily, watching as Jaskier spreads a hand over his chest. He maps out the planes of his chest, pushing clawed fingers through soft chest hair before dragging them lightly down toward the hem of his trousers.

He rakes his eyes over the jut of Geralt's cock, but doesn't touch, afraid of pushing too far. A favour, he reminds himself, Geralt is doing him a favour here. So he slips his hand back up to his stomach, mimicking the way Geralt touched him at first, exploring the little dips and rises in his skin, careful not to catch his claws.

And when he looks up to him again, Geralt is watching him. Something in the way he looks at him makes Jaskier's chest tight and he dips down again, catching Geralt's lips in a kiss. Geralt kisses back with enthusiasm, wrapping an arm around so he can pull Jaskier on top of him.

Both hands move down, cupping the swell of Jaskier's tail and rocking him slowly forward. Jaskier's cock, still sensitive, presses against Geralt's through the rough fabric of his trousers. He hisses at the drag, but Geralt moans at the friction and the sound goes straight through him. This time, Jaskier does it on purpose.

They find an easy rhythm between the two of them and even with Geralt's trousers in the way, the sensitivity soon gives way to pleasure and Jaskier ruts against him, kissing him hard despite the lingering fear that he'll bite too hard. Geralt however, seems unconcerned. He's got one hand buried in Jaskier's hair, the other pressing between them, fumbling with the buttons on his trousers. It takes him a moment, but he gets them undone, finally pulling his cock free and Jaskier groans as he ruts against him.

Geralt is hot, his cock even more so, and Jaskier basks in the warmth, pressing himself closer, even with Geralt’s hand still between them. He's sure he could come just like this, happy to rut against him, but then Geralt's fingers are pressing against his slit again. His fingers come away slick and he winds his hand around Jaskier's cock, stroking him slowly.

"What do you need?" he asks and Jaskier whimpers.

"What you did before," he breathes, "could you... do that again?" In an instant, Geralt flips him onto his back again, dragging his fingers up to his slit, but Jaskier stops him. "Could you... with your cock?"

"Oh. Fuck, yeah."

Geralt shifts, pushing his trousers down and kicking them off before pressing up close again. He pulls Jaskier into a deep kiss, his hand sliding away to bring his hips closer. He ruts against him, pushing through the slick and come and when he catches on Jaskier's slit, Jaskier lets out a little gasp and grasps at Geralt's shoulders.

Geralt pushes forward pressing into him and Jaskier holds his breath as he stretches open on his cock. Geralt's eyelids flutter as he settles and then he rocks forward, slowly at first, just short little thrusts that leave Jaskier aching, pushing himself onto him, wanting more.

And Geralt gives it to him. He sinks deep, hooking a knee over Jaskier's hip to hold him close as he ruts, his cock pressed firmly against that spot that makes him wild. Jaskier bucks and whines, his own cock slipping against Geralt's with every thrust. He delights in the feeling of Gerslt inside him, of his warmth and the stretch of his cock, sliding into him and filling him wholly.

He's surprised to find Geralt as breathless as he is when he looks up at him and he can't help but tip forward and nip at his lower lip. Geralt groans and kisses him hard. He pushes him onto his back so he's straddling his hips and when he sits back, Jaskier's cock presses between his cheeks.

He rocks his hips, suddenly overwhelmed by the heat around his cock and Geralt shudders as he pushes back against him. His eyes flick up to Jaskier's and he licks his lips.

"Can I try something?" he asks and Jask nods enthusiastically.

Geralt withdraws immediately, pressing his fingers into Jaskier's slit. When he withdraws, he reaches behind himself, and Jaskier burns to know what he's doing, but the slick fingers wrap around his cock, and Geralt sits back on him. Jaskier groans low as Geralt's body engulfs him, heat seeping into every inch where they touch and he reaches out, fingers digging into his thighs, so careful not to leave scratches.

Geralt rocks back onto him, taking the full length of Jaskier's cock and grinding back against him. He rolls his hips and squeezes around him, pulling right up to the tip before dropping back down the length on him. Jaskier is breathless, helpless to do anything but squeeze Geralt's thighs and bite his own lip.

Tentatively, he wraps one hand around Geralt's cock, slipping webbed fingers over the head of his cock. Geralt moans softly, sliding one hand over Jaskier's and guiding it down. Jaskier nearly stops breathing as the head of Geralt's cock nudges against his slit and then he's sliding in again, filling him up even as he squeezes around Jaskier's cock.

It's so much. Jaskier's body sings with the twin pleasures of being filled so wholly and sinking into Geralt himself as he shifts his hips up.

"Fuck" he groans and Geralt drapes himself over his chest, kissing the moan from his lips.

He finds a rhythm, a careful balance that keeps them joined in both places and Jaskier has never felt such overwhelming pleasure in his life. He meets Geralt's thrusts, thrusting in deep as Geralt sinks into him and it's hardly surprising when he finds himself creeping close to the edge. Geralt's thighs shake around him and he wants to hold out, to make Geralt comes first, but Geralt reaches up, nipping at the sensitive skin over his throat and the pleasure that zips through him is too much.

His hips snap up hard and Geralt kisses him through it, deep and hard, his whole body arching against him. He follows shortly, burying himself deep in Jaskier's body and rutting into him urgently. The moans and pleas that drop from his lips do nothing to ease Jaskier's persistent erection, but as Geralt slumps against him, Jaskier feels the exhaustion creeping in.

Geralt, too, seems tired and Jaskier withdraws reluctantly, mourning the loss of Geralt's body around him. His cock remains stubbornly hard, still unsheathed, but the aching desperation wore off some time ago and he flings himself into the water, quickly rubbing himself down to prevent waking up sticky and uncomfortable. A moment later there's a splash as Geralt rolls off the ledge next to him.

He swims closer enough for Jaskier to reach him and he makes a point of wiping Geralt down first before wrapping a hand around his cock and sliding slowly. Geralt's eyes drop shut and he winds his arms around Jaskier's neck with a soft, shuddering moan.

"How long does this usually last?" he asks and Jaskier shrugs.

"Anywhere from a week to six."

Geralt gawks at him. "Six weeks?"

"On and off," Jaskier huffs, amused. "I don't swim around with an exposed prick for six weeks. And besides. It's usually two, though it is much more in much more... concentrated bursts."

"Meaning I should stick around?"

Jaskier's heart thuds heavily at the suggestion which is, realistically, ridiculous. He's known Geralt for all of a few hours and under normal circumstances, the man would have just killed him. But the idea of keeping him close spreads warmth through his chest.

"You don't have to," he says anyway. "You kept up your end of the deal. I'll be quiet."

"Mmm," Geralt agrees, nosing at his neck, "but it'll get bad again. What would you do with no one here to get you through it."

"Are you..." Jaskier starts, hesitant. "Are you saying you want to stay?"

"Maybe not exactly here," Geralt shrugs, "I'd appreciate being warm and dry part of the time. But I don't intend to go far. Maybe I'll camp out on the beach."

"Will you stay for now?" Jaskier asks hopefully.

"Yes."

Jaskier doesn’t acknowledge the way his heart clenches a little. He shouldn’t want Geralt to stay, shouldn’t care what he does with himself now that he’s fulfilled his end of the bargain, but as they finish cleaning up, he seems happy to be there.

Once they're both clean and Geralt has managed to pull another orgasm from him, they settle on the ground, Jaskier curled up around him. His cock rests perfectly against the cleft of Geralt's ass and he has to be careful not to move too much, lest he work himself up again. He spreads one wing out over Geralt, using it as well as he can to keep him warm.

“You should go back,” Geralt says quietly and if Jaskier didn’t know better, he’d say he sounded almost disappointed, “leave here and find more of your kind so you don’t have to suffer alone next time.”

“I’ve thought about it,” Jaskier admits, “but I like it here.”

“Mm,” Geralt hums sleepily, “guess I’ll just have to come back then, hm?”

Five years later…

The need returns, just as it always does, creeping up slowly and then hitting him all at once, but this time it's worse. This time he has the memory of his Witcher, soft and sweet touching him and kissing him and working him through it. And the memory only serves to make the need stronger.

But he made a promise.

So Jaskier holes himself up in his cave and deals with it as well as he can on his own and when that quits working on the first day, Jaskier swims to the surface in the hopes of coming across some other passer-by who might be willing to risk their life to fuck a Siren.

But when he breaches the surface of the water, there's a figure on the beach, moving oddly. He keeps low in the water, just his head breaking the surface and when he gets closer he realizes it's a man taking off his boots. It takes a couple of seconds to register as the man strips completely naked, but as he gets closer, as Jaskier swims further, he recognizes him. There's a swell of something warm and pleasant that settles in his chest and his heart beats just a fraction too quickly.

Geralt came back for him.

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.05

10/28/2020

Preparations

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 6,652

Warnings: angst, slight smut?, language, fluff

A/N: Thank you everyone, for putting up with my emotional ass. After some thought, and when I was feeling better and not so sad (?), I really didn’t wanna make those of you keeping up with the story wait for the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy this one and if you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other blogs or sites.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The city is lively with beautiful Asgardians rushing about their daily lives. In the time since it’s completion, New Asgard and its inhabitants have settled into a routine. New lives on a planet now once again full of growth, community interaction, and celebration when the time is right.

“We’ll give you a proper tour tomorrow.” Brunnhilde says, reaching forward to tap the shoulder of the man driving you both. “Stop here.”

“Wait, aren’t you coming with me?” You ask, startled as she throws open the back door of the sleek black sedan.

“No. I have other things to prepare for the wedding and then I have to check in on my Valkyrie. Your escorts will meet you at the shop.” Brunnhilde assures you.

“But-”

“Bye!” She smiles at you and slams the door in your face.

You sit there, confused and at a loss. Your anxiety begins to mount when the driver, a handsome young Asgardian man with long braided black hair, clears his throat and draws your attention to the front.

“Shall I drive on Your Highness?” He asks, glancing in his rearview mirror at you.

“Um…” You’ll never get used to that stupid your highness stuff. “Yes.”

“Very good, Your Highness.”

“Can’t you just call me, Y/N?” You ask, feeling awkward.

“No.” He says, a smile on his face. “I cannot. I can see why his Majesty has chosen you.”

You’re surprised by this statement, and you’re pretty sure it’s insolent maybe? You don’t know because this is all new to you, but you don’t really care either way.

“Why?”

“You don’t remember me?” He asks, as he drives down the street.

As they pass, the Asgardians stop in their walking or talking or errand running to watch you drive by. Some of them smile with excitement, even moving with the car a few steps before stopping.

They’re all dressed normal. Asgardian garb abandoned to fit in on Earth. Not all of them. Some still wear their own clothes. Some of them wear a mixture of both. It’s a mish-mash of two cultures and you understand the need for a human Queen a little more.

“No.” You shake your head, giving the driver your full attention.

“I didn’t think you would.” He admits, smiling still. “You were very nervous when I first drove you up to the palace. Quite literally shaking in your pretty shoes.”

Was he your driver then too?!

“Alas, I understand his Majesty’s choice because you were the only woman that sat in my car and spoke to me. You may not have been aware enough to remember me, but you were very kind. Very concerned about me despite the stress you were in.” He looks in his rearview mirror again, meeting your eyes. “My wife gave birth, by the way.”

“Oh!” Your mind is struck with an unfocused conversation, hazy but you remember the pregnant wife. “I remember!”

You’re way too excited about remembering and the driver chuckles.

“Was it a boy or a girl?” You ask eagerly.

“A girl.” He smiles. “We’ve named her Luta.”

“Congratulations!” You exclaim gently, so happy for him.

“Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll tell my wife you said so.” He promises.

“I’d love to meet her.” You hope, leaning forward to get a better look at the side of his face.

“I’m not sure that will be possible. You’ll be terribly busy, and my wife is also with our little girl.”

“What if I came to pay her a special visit?” You really want to meet her.

“If you could find the time, Your Highness, my wife and I would be happy to receive you.” He smiles.

“I’m sorry if you told me last time we met, but what is your name?”

“Armod, Your Highness.” He tells you, turning down a second and smaller street.

The people are still dense, gathered around stalls and smaller shops as Armod drives a little slower to keep a careful eye on the families attending what must be an early morning market.

You take it in as quickly as you can, devouring the sight of these beautiful people and in return they turn to watch you go by.

They turn to each other, have quick and silent—to you—exchanges before a few of them begin to turn and wave.

Nervous, you wave timidly, smiling because you can’t help it. It isn’t a conscious decision.

The side street is so packed with stalls that it makes it impossible for people to follow the car at the speed it’s going, even reduced.

You’re a little grateful. You don’t want to get mobbed without someone else here to dilute the excitement.

“The people are very excited to see their future Queen.” Armod explains, “Forgive them their exuberance.”

“I hope I don’t disappoint them.”

As the crowd thins out, and Armod pulls the car into a gentle stop, he shakes his head, “Trust me, Your Highness, you won’t.”

Your car door opens. Into your view slides a pale white hand, luxurious suit jacket sleeve barely hiding the equally expensive white button-up underneath.

“Your Highness,” greets a familiar voice.

Taking his hand, Loki pulls you from the car, helping you stand and even reaching down to adjust the long train of your right sleeve.

The dress is sparkling blue, a body-hugging gold silk dress underneath the top sheer voile blue layer on top. The right sleeve is long, ends at your wrist, with a train that flows down at an equal length to that of your skirt. The left side is sleeveless.

You’re nervous about the deep V of your bodice, the scrunched-up shoulders of your dress carefully balanced there but too precarious for your liking.

With he sun out, the chill in the air isn’t so bad, but here in the shade of what must be the bridal shop, you shiver.

“You look lovely.” Loki smiles.

“I look stupid.” You counter, feeling very exposed and not at all pretty with how tight the dress feels.

“Allow me to politely disagree.” Loki takes your hand and leads it around his elbow as become aware of the people gathering around to catch a look at you. “I think the crowd would agree with me.”

“Can we go inside, please?” You beg, waving at the small group as other begin to flock from their spots at distant stalls to join the crowd.

“Of course.” Loki taps your hand then escorts you into the shop.

You relax a little once you’re inside and warm.

A middle-aged looking woman moves towards the two of you, her hand subtly stroking a large fold of crimson fabric on the low center shelf before she reaches you and then dips into a low curtsy before rising and grabbing her hands to hold at chest level.

“Good morning, your Highnesses!” She exclaims, gushing to an embarrassing degree.

“Good morning, Gorm. How are you?” Loki asks politely.

He doesn’t seem truly interested in her answer, but he waits kindly while she flusters with the honor of his polite concern.

“I am much better now that you and our King Thor’s lovely intended have arrived. Such an honor to meet you, Your Highness.” She says, addressing you directly.

“Thank you.” You reply, startled by her a bit. “It’s so great to meet you.”

“Tell me, Gorm, have you received His Majesty’s instructions on the dress we’d like?” Loki checks.

“Oh, yes, Your Highness! I’ve been working non-stop on several options since I received them.” She assures him, gesturing back towards a doorway past a long wooden counter with a modern cash register and signature pad for credit cards.

“Excellent.” Loki smiles. “Now, while I hate to do this to you, love—do you think you can handle a few hours alone with Gorm to do your fitting?”

“You’re leaving?” You ask, once again shocked, just like with Brunnhilde.

“I’m afraid I have several other things to do for the wedding and with the Earth and Asgardian ambassadors eager to have the wedding as soon as possible, I have to take every chance I can get to run these errands. Not like I have anything better to do…” Loki’s voice is slightly bitter, but only for a moment before he taps your hand again. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back long before you’re finished. Gorm doesn’t leave anything to chance with her gowns and this one is the most important one you will wear in your life. We have to get it right, don’t we Gorm?”

Gorm is already nodding, her blonde graying hair flowing like waves across her shoulders as she does. “Oh, yes, Your Highness. I will make sure that not only will the dress fit His Majesty’s expectations, but you too shall feel beautiful and like the dress was made just for you, Your Highness.”

“There you are.” Loki smiles. “I’ll be back.”

He pulls your hand up to his lips to kiss your knuckles before letting it go and moving towards the door, leaving you and Gorm to stand awkwardly for a few moments after the door shuts behind him.

“Shall we?” She gestures back towards the doorway and since there’s no way to get out of this, you fix her with a nervous smile and nod.

“Yes.” You sigh, and follow her, making sure to hold onto the counter as your round it so that you don’t trip on your train.

~~~~~~~~~~

Stomach absolutely growling, you slip your arms through the sleeves of the dress you’ve pretty much settled on.

The past five hours have had you step in and out of two other dresses three times, and this one a total of eight times. Each time so that Gorm can make alterations to length and cut and detail.

It’s surprising to you that this particular dress should need so much maintenance when it’s the simplest of the bunch.

You’d fallen for it almost at first sight but had tried the other two more frilly dresses to appease Gorm since Thor had requested something feminine to counteract the armor you’d be wearing on the day.

Armor you had no idea would be required in your wedding until Gorm explained the necessity for bodices without much flair.

“Alright, Your Highness,” Gorm smiles at you, holding the dress low and open for you to step through. “Once more, and then I think we are done.”

You let her slip the dress over you, layer after layer of smooth satin with one final crepe layer on top. The dress is eggshell white, soft, and easy on the eye.

Some white fabrics nearly burn your retinas, but this one is pleasant to look at.

It stops just around your shoulders, leaving them exposed. The neckline curves down with your bust just a little making the top look like a heart, the point of which is followed all the way down with a line of stitched white buttons.

They’re purely decorative because behind you is where Gorm stands to zip the dress closed.

She closes a small clasp and then folds out the layers of skirt around you.

It’s not as long as the blue dress you wore here today. Simpler and easier to walk in. The sleeves themselves are long, which you appreciate very much in this weather. Every bit of the dress now settles along your curves just right.

“Oh, this was the right choice, I think.” Gorm smiles wide. “You look beautiful, Your Highness. His Majesty is a very lucky man.”

You smile in return, flattered by her words for a moment because you forget that Thor has been with Jane all morning. As you remember, your smile falters then fades as the worries you had this morning come rushing back.

“You don’t like it?” Gorm asks, reaching down to stroke the long and beautiful skirt.

“Oh, no. I love the dress, Gorm. I’m just…worried about His Majesty liking it.” You smile at her, to reassure her. She’s done such amazing work. You might have her make all of your gowns from now on. Unless…?

“Gorm? Were you the one that made the dress I came in wearing today?” You wonder.

“No.” She shakes her head. “I’m afraid I did not have that pleasure.”

“How much of an imposition would it be if I made you my sole dressmaker? His Majesty has bought me some gowns to wear when appropriate, but I don’t feel like they’re my style.”

“Oh, Your Highness! It would be an honor to be your personal dressmaker!” She’s so flustered that she excuses herself and vanishes into the front of the shop to get her water.

You turn your gaze onto yourself in the mirror, all three angles looking back at you.

The dress really is unbelievably beautiful. You would never have thought that this dress and its style would have looked good on you, but it fits around your curves so seamlessly. This dress was literally made for you and it’s very noticeable.

As you turn around one final time, a small chuckle from the doorway pulls your eyes away from your reflection.

“I’m glad to see you haven’t put up such a fight over this.” Loki moves towards you, stopping a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You should have seen me wrestle with the other two.” You sigh. “Can we go? I’m so hungry.”

Almost as if on cue, your stomach growls.

“Yes.” Loki nods. “We can go. I’ve got lunch waiting for you back in the palace.”

“Is Thor back?” You hop off the box you’d been standing on, grabbing your skirts and then dropping them to cascade around your legs like a milky waterfall.

Loki’s smile falter. “I’m afraid not. But don’t worry, he’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

You’re so disappointed you wander away from him into the dressing room to change back into your blue dress without giving him any sort of answer.

He’s got you in the car, your forehead resting against the glass of the window, lost in thoughts of Thor and Jane when he speaks to you again.

“Might I ask you a favor, sister?” He probes gently.

Him calling you his sister makes your stomach tumble.

You have a brother! How can you ever explain this happiness?

“Sure.”

“I hope you don’t find me insolent, but-” He hesitates, thinking about the words he’s about to say hard before he meets your eyes and that seems to strengthen his resolve. “Don’t fall in love with Thor. Not yet. Don’t let him pull you in right away.”

“You think he’ll leave me for Jane?” You wait, watching as Loki thinks through your accusation.

“Not exactly, but yes. I suppose that’s a possibility I hope you can avoid.”

For a few minutes while Armod drives you back to the palace, you say nothing. You consider his request and the honest concern that he seems to have for you.

As Armod pulls into the large multi-car garage at the back of the palace, you turn to Loki and stare sadly.

“I can’t make that promise, Loki.” You shrug. “It’s already too late for that.”

“You love him?” Loki realizes.

“No!” You deny, “Not exactly. I don’t love him yet, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t very fond of him already. He-he kissed me last night.”

Loki’s brow furrows.

“A lot actually. He begged me to try and love him just as he would try to love me. I promised him I would try.” As if you’ll need to try.

You’re already hopelessly possessive over him. Maybe not him as a person, but rather those kisses he gave you. Those are your kisses now. Those thick arms he held you in, those are your arms—your hugs!

And now he might be in the United States giving those very things that are now yours alone to Jane who wouldn’t even marry him?

“It’s too late.” You reiterate, feeling absolutely lost.

“Come on, Your Highness. Let’s get you a late lunch.”

~~~~~~~~~~

If there isn’t a trail across your floor after all of the pacing you’ve done today, you’d be surprised.

“This won’t make him come back any faster.” Brunnhilde points out.

“Do I really have to model the wedding dress for him?” You ask, twisting your fingers nervously as you move up and down your room.

“I think it would be good for him.” Brunnhilde explains. “And yes. He won’t see your armor until the day of the wedding, but the dress will help make it more real for him. He needs that. So do you.”

“It’s already real for me Brunnhilde.” You lift your thumb nail to your teeth and nip, like a nervous pup, stopping at the heavy doors of the balcony.

They’ve been thrown open and the chilly air filtering in makes you shiver.

“Hilde.” Brunnhilde corrects, then moves to take a long wine-colored woolen shawl and drapes it over your shoulders as you stare out at the bustling city.

You can hear laughter, lots of merrymaking. The Asgardian people know how to enjoy their free time, but you’ve seen how hard they work too. As a whole. Loki assured you on the way home that there are just as many lazy time wasters among them as there are humans.

“Why are you fretting?” She sits at the desk, staring up at you with curious dark eyes.

“Because he’s been with Jane all day.” You lash out.

It’s not a scream, just pure exasperation. And immediately, you feel sorry.

“I’m sorry.” You sigh, dropping your hand but pulling the shawl around you tighter.

You notice it finally.

“Oh, thank you.” You really feel bad now.

“You’re acting like you’re already in love with him.” She teases, not caring one bit about your little tantrum.

Through the corners of your eyes you look at her, avoiding her piercing look.

“Y/N…?” She wonders, leaning forward to get a better look at you.

“I don’t love him, alright? I just…” You sigh. “No one’s ever kissed me before.”

Your feel your neck and ears burn, scorching with embarrassment as you admit just how much of a maiden she’d found for him.

“So, you really are a virgin?” She gasps, leaning almost her entire body along the desk to look at your face.

You frown at her. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No.” She hakes her head. “No, not at all. You’re just so…well, you’re beautiful.”

The laugh that slips through your lips is sudden and honest.

You stare at her, shaking your head because you don’t believe her one bit.

“I’m serious!” Hilde assures you, smiling and amused by your reaction. “It’s a little bit of a shame that you haven’t been fawned on before.”

The sprinkle of sadness in her voice exposes her real meaning and it wipes away all traces of flattery.

“You mean, it’s a shame that I haven’t been with someone who will really love me because they choose to? And not like Thor because he has to?” With a bit more desperation, you look for Armod’s car, needing to see Thor.

Everything that happened last night feels like a dream. Made up in your mind to make it easier to marry Thor. Was it a dream?

You don’t remember him telling you goodnight. You have the vague memory of falling asleep with your head on his shoulder but you’re not sure how real that is with how hazy it feels.

What if his kisses had been a hopeful wish?

You bite your bottom lip, the heat and weight of his lips still fresh in your memory.

It can’t have been a dream. It felt so amazing. You could never have imagined the way it felt for him to invade you the way he did, pulling your body against his.

“He doesn’t come by car, y’know?” Hilde says, sitting back in her seat.

“What?” You turn to her, eager for explanation.

“Thor?” She gestures at the sky outside, drawing your eyes away from the city in the distance and up to the stars. “He flies here on Earth. It’s faster than flying by plane, but not by much. He’ll be going straight to his room as soon as he gets back.”

“Oh.” Your disappointment is suffocating and because you have no reason to keep freezing to death, you close the balcony doors.

With the cold shut out the heat from the hidden vents in your room saturates your shawl and envelopes you in a cocoon of heat.

“He might not want to see me tonight.” You accept, knowing that even if things went as best as they could have, Thor will still be heartbroken.

Having to give up on a relationship he had been so invested in? Even if he’s been unhappy with it lately, it must be difficult.

“No. He might not. But he has no choice. The wedding is in three days, so we have no time to wait for him to be ready to see you. We need approval on the dress.” She explains, leaving no room for argument.

Which is a shame because you would rather not see him all torn up about Jane. Not that you wouldn’t like to give him comfort. But you doubt that seeing you is something Thor would want. Not when it’s your fault that he has to break up with Jane to begin with.

“You know what? I’ll go check to see if he’s back. Gorm already sent us the dress. I’ll have Estrid help you put it on.” Hilde rises, moving out of the room without waiting for you to agree.

Five minutes later, Estrid moves into the room, her arms cradling your beautifully crafted wedding dress.

“Shall I do your hair too, Your Highness?” She asks, and lays the dress on your bed, the color such a beautiful contrast to the deep plum colored sheets.

“My hair?” You look in the mirror and the fancy thing they’d done with it this morning is falling apart. “No. I’m okay, Estrid. Thank you.”

“Very well, Your Highness.” She smiles kindly then moves towards you and takes your shawl.

You turn for her and she begins to unzip your blue dress, your mind on Thor and the mood he might be in when you see him again.

~~~~~~~~~~

The hesitation is in more than just your fist, hovering over the dark wooden of Thor’s bedroom door. It’s tall. Taller than it probably needs, sitting within a stone arch decorated with stunning golden engravings.

You’re not sure why Brunnhilde left you to do this alone. Loki is busy with something secret that he doesn’t want to share with you yet.

Not wedding related. He says it’s important and it involves you to some degree, but it’s not necessary for you to know until it’s necessary for you to know. Which is a circle-jerk kind of logic that you’re kind of annoyed by.

He’s nicer than previous opinions of him have made him seem. You suppose that has to do with the growth he’s made since he was last on Earth.

New York hadn’t been a great time for Loki, and he could only go up from there.

Brunnhilde had also neglected to tell you how Thor was feeling. Or looking? Either would have been great before you committed to coming up here on your own.

Thor’s bedroom is at the highest point of the palace. That is, highest save for the last floor which is mostly a defense tower full of weapons and a constant guard to keep Thor and his future wife safe. Which is now gonna be you.

Unless you go into his room and he tells you that he can’t stand being without Jane and rejects you and this pretty dress and you have to go back home to live just as you had before you met him. Only now with his kisses in your mind, his massive body pressed to yours, you won’t be able to get over the future you’d been promised.

How had you gone from refusing to marry him to wanting nothing more than to be his wife and even if all he was able to give you was one of those stupid kisses from last night, you’d be satisfied?

You drop your hand, almost with your mind made up to give up and just go back to your room because you don’t think you have the nerve to go through with seeing him today.

The part of you that disagrees, that remembers last night and wants more lifts your hand and knocks on his door.

In shock, you wait until his voice comes through and finally take a breath.

“Estrid? Is that you?” Thor’s voice sounds tired, not broken, but you can hear the weight in his heart by the sound of him.

You open the door and peek in, just one eye and the room is astoundingly beautiful.

If you weren’t so scared of what you’ll find in Thor, your jaw would drop ant the stunning image. To the left are two doorways, one is open, and you can see a large bathroom within. At the center of the room is what looks like a small kiddie pool, recessed into the floor, but probably deep enough for Thor to stand in?

There’s a part on this floor that’s shaped strangely from the outside and wonder if that’s what it is. The floor is dark stone tile, smooth and probably treated for waterproofing. Along the far wall of the bathroom, you can see a long wooden bench, dark oak like all of the other woods in the room from what you can see.

The toilet must be somewhere to the left where you can’t see from where you stand.

The other door is shut but since there is only an ornate set of drawers to the right of it, you assume that inside must be a large closet.

To the right of the room is a large bed. Large bed. You’ve never seen one so big.

It must be a California King? Which you’d stumbled upon in your search for mattresses when you’d first moved into your home. An accidental find and completely unnecessary.

That is, until now, when the thought of Thor laying in your very normal sized bed flits across your mind and suddenly the large King makes much more sense.

The bed is covered in soft looking gray flannel sheets. The comforter is gorgeous too, luxurious in its cotton ball soft appearance. Black with golden swirls and lines stitched across the top and bottom. The number of pillows is silly. All sizes too. Large ones at the very back and then several smaller ones until the ones at the very front are for mere decoration only.

Despite the more rustic look of the walls in the dark oak and stone base, the bed and furniture is slightly more modern in design. The headrest is cream white, ridged, and padded, as is the foot of the bed, but flatter than the headrest.

Two bedside tables hold various books on one and a lamp on the other. Behind the bed is a wall with a great big tree carved, flowing the length from top to bottom.

You swear you’ve seen that somewhere before.

The entirety of the wall opposite the doors to the room is made up of windows. Each window has been thrown open and the floor to ceiling curtains flow in the cool breeze.

They avoid the small breakfast table, laden with an untouched plate of the chicken you’d had for supper. On the other side is a large heavy looking desk. It’s sturdy. Big like Thor with papers and scrolls and folders. A laptop sits shut at the center and in the chair turned to face the left side of the room sits Thor with his shoulders hunched, elbows on his knees, hands supporting his face as he keeps it covered.

His body tells you everything you need to know about how he’s feeling and though you hate it, after so much worrying about what you’d find in here, you’re grateful to finally set eyes on him.

“It’s not Estrid.” You say gently, afraid to speak any louder and disturb him more than he already is.

His head whips towards you, faster than you expected.

Your hands go numb with nervous energy as he stares at you, his electric blue eyes scanning you very slowly from head to toe, then back up again. He takes his hand as he does so, covering his mouth with it, stroking his beard slowly as if fixing it.

Taking the opportunity, you note the plain jeans he’s wearing, the white t-shirt that stretches across his wide chest and strains to keep him covered. The hem of his sleeves struggle to keep his biceps contained. His golden hair is windswept, short as it is, it sticks in all directions.

He looks so good, so perfect, except for that sadness on his face.

You can’t bear to ask him anything about her.

“Gorm is lovely.” You tell him, forcing a smile and a quick nod.

He meets your eyes with his own, dropping the hand he’d used to shield his mouth and allows both his hands to dangle between his knees.

“She’s the best in the city.” Thor nods, devouring your dress again.

He suddenly rises and you teeter backwards with the sudden rise.

He steps towards you, his feet falling heavy on the floor.

You really like the way he struts towards you. There’s a slight sway to his hips.

Lips feeling dry and cracked, you freeze as he moves past you at the last moment.

The sound of him sitting on his bed pulls you around to look at him and he sighs, reaching his right arm up towards you.

With a swallow, you move towards him. The luscious short train of your skirt follows in your wake, flowing like water.

When you’re within reach, his places his hand on your waist, pulling you closer until you’re standing before him. He takes his other hand and places that on your waist too, making your breath shallow.

He looks up to meet your gaze.

Hands balled into fists; you wait. You’re not sure what he needs. What you need from this moment. You’re only sure that you’re glad you don’t seem to have dreamed up last night.

“You look beautiful.” He says, voice penetrating into your chest to restart your heart at double the speed.

“It’s a little simple.” You observe, remembering the other much frillier options.

“It suits you.” He lets his hand trace down along the side of your hip, stealing your breath before sliding his hand back up to your waist.

He gives you a little shake and you reach out to place your hands on his shoulders to keep from losing your already fragile balance.

“Brunnhilde told me that you were very anxious today.” He sounds worried, his brow puckered, eyes crinkled at the corners from concern.

You shrug for him, intending to play off the exact amount of worrying you’d done today because you don’t want him to know how invested you already are.

“I ended it with Jane.”

“You don’t have to-” You begin, but Thor makes a dismissive noise in his throat and cuts you off.

“I owe you an explanation.” He nods. “When I gave you that ring on your finger, I became your intended. Officially ending things with Jane was only out of respect for who we were when we were together.”

“Thor you really don’t have to tell me about your breakup with Jane. It’s private. It’s before me. Whatever happened between the two of you today is now in the past.” You sigh, trying not to think about what kisses might have been shared.

Maybe more?

You make a mental note to never hold it against him if he ever tells you that he slept with her today.

He was hers long before you agreed to marry him.

“I want to be honest with you.” He sighs. “I want us to be open with each other. I want us to talk about anything that may be troubling us.”

“We will.” You nod, giving his shoulders a small squeeze. “I promise.”

“Then tell me what you were worried about today.”

You already regret your promise.

“I thought about what you must be feeling. Wondered if you might change your mind.” Answering honestly is actually cathartic. Though you usually do it on reflex, choosing to do it feels nice.

Thor only watches you, waiting for you to get it all out, his large hands caressing the sides of your waist and making you tingle.

“Keep going.” He urges you gently.

“I’m embarrassed.” You admit, and Thor’s face relaxes a moment, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips.

He doesn’t prompt you again, just waits.

There’s a peace in this silence of his. An acceptance. A sense of time to just be.

“I was afraid that I’d imagined last night. I don’t remember falling asleep. I just woke up and it was this morning. And last night was so…” You stop, realizing that as much as you’ve thought about last night today, for Thor if there are any kisses that he wants to hold onto today, they’re probably from Jane.

This fact suddenly hardens your heart and resolve. You reach to grab his wrists to pull his hands off of you, but he doesn’t budge. You couldn’t move him if you pushed as hard as you can.

“It doesn’t matter.” You brush it off. “You probably want to just be alone and I was told that you need to approve the dress? So, tell me what you think, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Have I upset you?” He asks, face shifted back into that slight pout he’d been wearing before.

“N-No.” You shake your head.

“Then why do you want to leave so quickly?” He demands, voice rising in pitch at the end.

“I just…after today, I just thought that maybe you’d want some space?”

“Then you aren’t angry with me?” He checks.

“No.”

He leans forward and presses his head against your stomach, eyes shutting as his arms wrap themselves around you and pull you closer.

You don’t quite know what to do with your hands, so you stand there, holding them over his shoulders, fighting the desire to hold him back.

“I’m so tired.” He admits to you, and it settles in your heart.

You drop your arms, resting them against him before you embrace him, hands splayed along his wide back.

He exhales, relaxing against you. “Thank you.”

“For what, Thor?” You whisper, too overcome with all this hugging to speak any louder.

“For hugging me.”

Your heart breaks for him, and you hold him tighter.

“May I be honest with you about something?”

“Yes.” Here it is, the truth about Jane and him today.

“These moments with you have been the most enjoyable and special moments I’ve spent with anyone in a long time.”

Does it really matter if he slept with Jane today? Kissed her? Hugged her?

Was he this sweet with her too?

“I love you in this dress.”

You sigh, the first three words of that declaration sending your heart into a frenzy.

“You do?”

“I do.”

You smile, liking that very much.

Thor’s blue eye shifts with electricity, literally, and he pulls you down onto his lap with a demanding grip on your waist.

Your arm is still around his shoulder, the other moving down to rest over his hand which he brings around to rest on your lower belly.

“Are you happy?” He wonders, catching your fingers within his.

“Relatively.” You nod. “I’m still worried.”

Honestly, right?

“Why?” He laments, caressing your waist.

“I’m liking you more and more too quickly.” You sigh. “I don’t want to disappoint you or the people. I want to do well. Both in our marriage and with the kingdom.”

Thor caresses your side, then slides his hand down further, large hand sliding along the fabric of your dress down over your thigh.

There’s a subtle tickle between your legs. It startles you and you have to physically force yourself to relax.

“You’re already better than anyone else I might have chosen.” Thor whispers, leaning in closer until his lips are pressed to your ear.

You remind yourself that you made him promise not to do anything he doesn’t want to do. No forcing himself to be affectionate if he doesn’t feel it.

“Thor…” You gasp, just a flurry of the air left in your lungs.

“I’ve been thinking…” He admits. “Since I left you last night, about how we might be able to prepare for our wedding night.”

How do you breathe again? Where does the air go?

“Do you trust me, cherub?”

That pet name hits you just as fiercely as it did the first time and all you can do is nod.

Thor suddenly throws you back over his arm onto the bed. Landing with your head on the pillow, you gasp, chest rising and falling dramatically as you struggle to catch your breath again.

He leans down and hovers over you, waiting as you do, staring into your eyes.

“I’ll make certain you know this is not a dream.” He promises, then leans down to press his lips against yours.

You sigh, grateful for his taste as if it were a drug, removing an ache you’ve been feeling all day. Your arms come up on their own, trapping his torso down on yours as his hands trace your sides slowly.

This time you’re the one seeking more, pressing the tip of your tongue against his lips until he opens them and kisses you back.

He inhales your kiss, breathing in until you hear the vibration of a moan rip through him into you and you have never felt your body burn this way before.

You want him to make more sounds like that. Over and over if possible.

He pulls away too quickly, making you lift your head to follow him, but you fall back onto the bed, gasping for breath.

“Do you really trust me?” Thor checks again, his hands moving down along your sides until they stop at your hips, hands flexing and squeezing.

You’re shifting on his sheets, body squirming from energy you don’t recognize.

You know that he probably needs to be close to someone like this after today. After whatever he lost with Jane, even if he won’t let you see just how much it really hurt him, he probably needs this closeness.

“Yes.” You breathe.

With one hand he reaches down, staring into your eyes as he does. He finds the bottom hem of your dress and flips his hand underneath, then takes hold of your ankle.

He turns to face your feet, sliding down to the end of the bed then removes the flats you’d switched into, along with the thick socks you’d found to fight the cold.

It’s so chilly in here you shiver.

“You won’t be cold for long, cherub.” He promises.

After dropping your shoes on the floor, he rises then crawls onto the bed to where your feet are, grabbing hold of your ankles to pull your legs open a little.

“Easy.” He tells you gently. “You’ll still be a maid on our wedding night. This will be just a taste.”

He flips your skirt over his head, disappearing from view.

You push yourself up onto your elbows, curious and just as nervous until you feel the pressure of something wet slide up along your slit and you throw your head back, an uncontrollable moan ripping through your lips.

You hadn’t realized the taste would be for him.

[nikibogwater]

What did you think of Nari's characterization in ROTT?

Disliked it, as with most of the other things in the movie.

The short version of it is this: In Wizards, Nari's primary character traits were empathy and compassion for others. In Rise of the Titans, her primary character traits seem to be just a general lack of awareness for what's happening around her, and a tendency to make light of very serious situations.

Now before I get into the long-form answer, I will preface by saying that the writers of RotT were at a severe disadvantage when writing for characters who were introduced in Wizards because Wizards was still in production at the time. So I understand why Nari ended up feeling like a completely different character in the movie, and I am not shaming anyone for it. But the fact of the matter is that I found her characterization in Wizards to be much more appealing, and if that characterization had carried over to Rise of the Titans, I think I would've had slightly warmer feelings towards the movie. But let's get down to brass tacks now, because I've actually been dying to talk about this. This is gonna be a loooooong boi, so I've put everything under the cut to avoid clogging people's queues (I'm just really passionate about this bean goddess, okay? 😅)

When Nari is introduced to us in Wizards, she is quietly watching the arrival of our heroes at the castle. She doesn't make herself known to them, but it is clear she is very interested in what's happening. She does not make any other appearance until the Arcane Order launches their assault on Camelot.

Nari's first spoken words are, "Merlin! This is all my fault!" and as one would expect after hearing this, she is very obviously distressed and feeling guilty for putting everyone in danger. Merlin tells her they need to escape to the past, and that he needs her help in order to do it. Nari's response is to begin charging her magic as she says "I will do what I can."

After our main characters are thrown back in time, we're introduced to Nari as she was in the past. Although she is allied with the Arcane Order in their war against humanity, it's clear that she displays the least amount of malice out of the three. In fact, it's revealed that Nari has always been rather fond of humans, and has even reached out to them in friendship a number of times. After resurrecting Morgana, Nari is the one who does most of the explaining and introductions, showing a bit of a playful/mischievous side as she pokes fun at Bellroc and Skrael. ("I told you she would, Skrael! So old, and they still haven't learned manners.")

During the Battle of Killahead, we see Nari watching the war from a distance, and it's clear from the expression on her face that she is not liking any of this. Though she does briefly aid her siblings when they join in the battle, she reveals afterwards that she can sense the pain and suffering they have inflicted on others--and she doesn't believe the Order's ambitions are worth that. She abandons the Order, presumably spending the next 900 years in hiding, before seeking Merlin's protection.

Once our heroes have returned to the present, Nari becomes a bit more involved in the plot. She expresses genuine sorrow over the destruction of Arcadia Oaks High ("Your beautiful school-home was crushed!") and is clearly distressed by Jim's agony as the shard in his chest begins to work its dark magic. ("Poor soul! Your corruption...I feel it worsening.") After Jim is taken by the Order, we can see her comforting Toby in the background. She continues to show great concern and empathy for the people around her, and is still eager to help wherever she can, though her magic doesn't seem to be combat-oriented. She is also shown to be somewhat timid, hiding behind Merlin or Claire during confrontations with the Order--she is very clearly terrified of her old allies, and seems to want to avoid direct contact with them. When Douxie is struck down by the Order and is falling to his death, it is Nari who runs to try to save him before anyone else--apparently, if someone is in need, Nari's first instinct is to rush to their aid.

So, from all of that, we can gather that Nari, as she was characterized in Wizards, is intelligent, curious, cautious, gentle, empathetic, and very aware of what's going on around her. She is also a little playful and wild, but never to the point of disregarding what's happening or how others are feeling.

In Rise of the Titans, Nari remains consistent with this characterization for all of...seven minutes.

Initially, Nari is still very much herself in this scene (though I wish we could've been told what exactly made her want to stop running and face the Order head-on. Again, in Wizards, it was abundantly clear that that was the one thing she did NOT want to do). When Douxie expresses his anxiety about the situation, she takes him by the hand, offers him a reassuring smile, and says, gently but firmly, "No. No more running, Douxie." Excellent interaction. 10/10. Five stars. That's also the only time in the movie where Nari displays any level of awareness regarding Douxie's (or anyone's) feelings/wellbeing.

The body-swap scene is when Nari's character just completely swings in the opposite direction, and she becomes near-unrecognizable as being the same character from Wizards. Douxie, being our favorite Self-Sacrificing Idiot, swaps bodies with her at the last possible second, causing the Order to take him instead. Nari, now stuck inside Douxie's body, seemingly doesn't think much of this development at all. In fact, her first response is to giggle playfully. UM, NARI. NARI, SWEETIE, YOUR BIG BROTHER IS IN THE CLUTCHES THE MOST EVIL BEINGS KNOWN TO MANKIND. LIKE, THEY LITERALLY KILLED HIM THE LAST TIME HE RESCUED YOU FROM THEM, WHY ARE YOU NOT MORE WORRIED ABOUT THIS?! Up until this point, Nari has never been shown to underestimate the Arcane Order--she seems all too aware of the kind of violence and destruction they are capable of, which explains why she was so terrified of them in Wizards. But in Rise of the Titans she seems to just....not really care anymore? The entire time she is in Douxie's body, she doesn't express the slightest amount of concern for him, or for anyone around her. She just keeps doing...cutesy forest gremlin things, like singing to her flower, batting at a light fixture, and antagonizing Archie (she's definitely not the only character who was severely lacking in empathy in this movie, but this is an essay about Nari, so I'm not going to bother touching on everyone else). This is a direct contradiction to her characterization in Wizards, where she was shown to care deeply for the people around her, and displayed genuine distress whenever they were in danger or suffering.

Nari also persists in being pointlessly cryptic for the entirety of the movie because....reasons. Before the Order breaks Douxie's body-swap spell, she tells Jim, "Trollhunter make ninth configuration--the Kronosphere will make right." Which, of course, doesn't help him in the slightest. And when they finally succeed in rescuing Nari, she doesn't elaborate or explain this at all. She just says it again. Listen, I can get behind Nari being Insanely Ancient, and maybe a little out of touch with modern trends, but I'm fairly certain that Wizards Nari at least knew how to communicate. She never showed any inclination towards being cryptic or mysterious on purpose, at least. We're never given any explanation for Nari's sudden lack of clarity, so I guess it was just there for plot reasons. Which makes it that much more infuriating.

Also I don't know why, but the little "Hehe!" Nari does when Douxie pulls her into a hug kind of grinds my gears, because Nari, love, this is a really serious moment, you were just snapped out of mind control and your siblings are currently rampaging across globe in giant magical mechs, why are you giggling like a four-year-old and not, idk, SOBBING IN A MIXTURE OF RELIEF AND HORROR BECAUSE YOU WERE ALMOST PART OF WHAT DESTROYS THE EARTH?! AS THAT WOULD BE A MORE APPROPRIATE RESPONSE TO WHAT JUST HAPPENED????!!!!! But that's just a stupid little nitpick.

Now this is not me saying that Nari's characterization in the movie is objectively bad. Actually, it's kind of fitting for the Tales of Arcadia brand of humor--Super ancient demigoddess who houses the power to completely destroy the earth is also kind of a clueless ditz and needs to be babysat like a toddler. If she had not been introduced in Wizards, I would've been fine with this. But, much like the rest of the movie, Nari's vastly different characterization felt a tiny bit like a betrayal, and it consistently bothered me in every single one of her scenes. It also kept me from feeling the full impact of her death--seriously, I didn't cry at all when she was killed. Which....yeah, I'm just as surprised as you are.

So anyways, if you've made it this far, thank you so much for the ask, Non! Normally I have a bit more self control than to just....essay-dump like this, but honestly I've been thinking about this for way too long, and I had to get it out of my system. 🥴 And to anyone who really liked Nari's characterization in RotT--that's totally valid! Again, I don't think it was a bad characterization. It was just very inconsistent with her character as she was introduced to us in Wizards. And I just happen to prefer Wizards Nari over RotT Nari. 🌿✨

[captain-azoren]

Avatar: Spirit Forging

Something that I haven’t really seen categorized or analyzed in the Avatar ‘verse is instances of spirits possessing, fusing, or otherwise combining with humans. These fusions however have happened in in every main era, with many varying results. I’m going to explore the possible mechanics and methods of these fusions, or spirit forged humans, and try to theorize how it all works.

1.) Possession

Chronologically, the first recorded and most basic of fusion would be what the franchise calls “Possession.” This is where a spirit inhabits a human’s body, whether willing or unwilling. Most possessions that are seen or described have been only temporary, usually with the spirit just phasing through the human, but the effects on the body are almost always drastic;

First seen is Yao, Wan’s friend, though we only see the after effects. He was presumably possessed by a tree spirit, which transformed his body into a misshapen, asymmetrical mix of wooden and human parts. We then see this happen to a hunter when the Aye-Aye spirit possesses him;

During the possession, we see traits of the Aye-Aye form and replace parts of the hunter’s body and features. The Aye-Aye and later Raava claim that a spirit staying too long inside a human body would kill the human, though how that happens is unclear. It is possible that if a spirit stays inside a human too long, the spirit completely takes over the human’s body. Essentially, the human would cease to be, as if the spirit consumed their body, or possibly took over their mind. 

Apparently, changes in appearance are not the only effect of possession. In Rise of Kyoshi, it is mentioned that the son of a governor during the Hao Dynasty was transformed by a dragon-bird spirit flying through him. In addition to growing feathers and a beak, the boy developed unusual abilities. These abilities were not elaborated on. Corrupting possession like this would not be seen again until the era of Korra, where the full effects would be demonstrated;

Tokuga was an ambitious criminal who was transformed by the Dragon-Eel spirit flying through him. One effect was his arm being changed into a tail or tenril like appendage which could stretch great lengths. Tokuga could lift and constrict others with his new appendage, and claimed that his strength and speed were enhanced by his transformation. He was even immune to poisonous gas. It can be inferred that a human possessed by a spirit obtains attributes of said spirit outside of outward appearance.

What should be noted is that in each of these instances, the human was unwilling to be possessed. However, in cases where the human was willing, a much different transformation occurs, one in which the human’s physical body and appearance are mostly unchanged.

2.) Energy Transfer

When a human and a spirit are both willing, the human does not suffer any permanent physical transformation. This could possibly mean that physical transformations are done purposefully by the spirit while inhabiting the human’s body, as a direct form of harm or punishment, though this is unconfirmed, and may have more to do with the nature of the spirit. More animalistic spirits may cause a more directly physical transformation.

We see that Wan did not change physically when Raava passed through him, but he did describe feeling a rush of power from it. This could mean that a spirit can give humans a boost to their chi and strengthen their bending. This may be similar to how the Avatar State works, as it taps into Raava’s spirit energy latent within the Avatar. In the battle against Vaatu, Raava outright possesses Wan to allow him to bend all elements, but it put great strain on his body and would have killed him eventually.

In The Siege of the North, we see when a spirit simply gives a human its life energy. When Yue was born almost lifeless, the Moon Spirit gave her some of its own life energy to save her. It worked, and one side effect was Yue’s hair turning white. Whether or not this could be considered possession is unclear, but it may be safe to assume it is a case with a positive outcome for the human. This could be due to the spirit itself not inhabiting Yue’s body, just leaving her its energy

Another non-permanent, unharmful combination we see is Aang and the Ocean Spirit, La, to create an immense and powerful being. This form was a mixture of Aang, Raava, and La, and was only temporary, leaving Aang exhausted. This form was only created when Aang entered the Avatar State, and like other instances of possession, would likely have killed him if he stayed in the form for too long. Interestingly, Aang’s own body did not transform, and the Ocean Spirit transformed instead.

3.) Permanent Fusion

A much more rare transformation is a complete, permanent fusion between human and spirit. The first was Wan fusing with Raava to create what would become the Avatar, a being that would be reincarnated until Raava was forcefully separated from Korra thousands of years later. Raava was only able to combine with Wan temporarily in order to allow him to bend all four elements at once, but using the power of the spirit portals during Harmonic Convergence, they were able to fuse permanently. Unalaq repeated this process with Vaatu to create a Dark Avatar, and Korra did the same with Raava to recreate the Avatar.

What this could mean is that when two different sentient beings, or “souls,” try to inhabit the same body (the human soul and a foreign spirit), the body becomes overwhelmed by too much conflicting energies at once, with the more powerful one, the spirit, eventually winning out. The soul could be seen as a battery that energy or chi comes from, and a physical body can only accommodate one.

It requires a specific set of circumstances in order to create a permanent and stable fusion that leaves both parties alive. The process likely involves having to not just balance but also harmonize the two souls. This way, the two souls can share the same “will” and fuse into one soul that the body can handle. Harmonic convergence itself is a supernatural event that rebalances and harmonizes the whole planet’s spiritual energy, so tapping directly into it is likely what allows new Avatars to be created. That said, there are at least two instances of permanent, empowering fusions outside of Raava/Vaatu.

When the Moon Spirit Tui was killed by Zhao, Yue gave the energy that she was given. While this appeared to kill Yue, she instead became the Moon Spirit itself. Indeed, her physical body seems to dissolve in Sokka’s arms. The body of Tui glows and Iroh places it back into the pond, where it then rises from the water and takes the form of Yue. She speaks to Sokka and kisses him goodbye. Tui was not really brought back to life, rather Yue seemed to fuse with it and both were essentially reborn. How much of Yue remains human though is unclear.

What this could mean is that a human can take on the energy of a spirit IF that spirit has been killed or sufficiently weakened. Yue having lived so long with Tui’s life energy may have also made their fusion easier. Because Tui had died, it could be deduced that Yue’s will was not overcome by Tui’s, allowing Yue to keep her human form even after the transformation. It’s also possible that somehow Yue’s entire soul was absorbed into the physical body of the Moon Spirit, as if she were possessing it instead.

The final example of a human being reformed or “reforged” by a spirit is the most rare and most drastic, with its effects still unclear.

(Spoilers for Rise of Kyoshi and Shadow of Kyoshi)

4.) Consumption

During the era of Kyoshi, Kyoshi’s friend Yun was captured by the ancient spirit Father Glowworm and taken to the Spirit World. While there, the two battled each other to a stalemate until Glowworm proposed a deal; it would grant Yun some of its power, allowing Yun to create passages between the realms if Yun would bring Glowworm more victims to feed on. While it is possible that Glowworm was bluffing, it stands to reason that he would be able to grant Yun this kind of power, similar to how the Moon Spirit granted Yue life.

Yun appeared to agree to this, but instead, he attacked Glowworm, crushing the spirit down small enough that Yun was able to physically eat him. This gave Yun all of Glowworm’s power. It is repeatedly mentioned in the novel that Yun acted of his own will and not due to the influence of the spirit. From this is can be assumed that Glowworm was effectively killed when Yun ate him, too weak to impose his will over Yun’s. In essence, consumption is the inverse of possession; the human absorbs the spirit, rather than the spirit absorbing the human as is usually the case.

With Glowworm’s power, Yun was able to tunnel his way out of the Spirit World and into the Physical world. He also gained the ability to sense where the Avatar was, as Glowworm had formed a connection to the previous Avatar, Kuruk, though an intense battle in the past. It is unclear what other changes Yun underwent, though Kyoshi described something human was missing from him.

It could be assumed that absorbing Glowworm’s power amplified Yun’s already impressive earthbending skills to incredible levels, as he was able to liquify earth without the use of heat, something that not even Toph has been seen doing, among other feats.

(End of Spoilers)

And there you have it, all instances of “Spirit Forging” that occur within the Avatar universe, at least as much as I can find. From this, I think I can determine a few ground rules;

1.) Spirits, humans, animals, and plants all posses energy and souls. This energy is essential to life and can pass between beings, whether willingly or unwillingly. The soul is the source of this energy, or chi.

2.) Humans, plants and animals require a physical body to harness their souls and energy. Bodies can harness and unleash almost limitless amounts of power and spiritual energy if it is given to them. A spirit’s body is corporeal and a physical manifestation of their soul.

3.) The soul is the source of energy and willpower of a being, whether within a physical body or as a corporeal spirit. A body can harness limitless energy, but it cannot carry more than one soul for long without harmful after effects. The more out of syn or opposed the two souls within a body are, the more harm is done to the body.

4.) Energy can be taken by force through consumption or possession if the will of one being can overcome the other. If fully overcome, one soul can completely destroy the other. It can also be given freely with lesser side effects and with both souls remaining intact.

5.) Under specific circumstances, two souls can fuse into one soul by achieving a willing harmony and balance. This essentially causes the two souls to share the same will power and prevents the body from being torn apart. This fusion can be achieved with an immense outside energy source that acts as a harmonizer. Soul fusion is also possible if one or both souls are sufficiently weakened enough.

I hope that all makes sense. I haven’t seen much discussion on the topic, and I hope people find this as interesting as I do.

[surlifen]

i dont waste energy hating closed species And You Can Too!

alright you asked for it

Claim 1: “Closed species limit creativity in the art community by locking off certain concepts.”

No, they don’t. If you believe that, then you also must believe that copyrighting in general-- or just generally the fact that making a design exactly like someone else’s is viewed as kind of wack-- are stifling creativity. Why? It’s easy to accidentally make a concept that is similar to someone else’s, because there are literally just not that many Things That Exist. There will ALWAYS be repeats. Generally, if a design coincidentally looks like another, there will be a mixture of backlash from people who believe it was an intentional ripoff, and total acceptance from people who understand that it was an accident. Ultimately, the correct way to live is to understand that 1) these coincidences can happen and should not be punished, but 2) intentionally ripping off someone else’s work is wrong. It isn’t black and white, you must process 2 or more concepts at once.

Species owners understand this. I have never seen a species owner come after someone for accidentally making something similar or inspired. This is a myth. Species owners are busy as fuck, generally Normal People, and simply do not have the time or energy or desire to moderate things outside their community. Please talk to literally any of them for more than two minutes and you will discover this. Every species owner I have met is friendly and kind and I’ll go into detail on exactly how bullshit this stereotype of them chasing people down for similarities is later.

So, given that some randos will get upset and harass people over harmless inspiration/coincidence but most will not in ALL cases of accidental over-similarity: this is NOT a species-specific problem and happens just as often--if not MORE often, because of how much people fucking despise closed species-- with non-closed-species characters.

Secondly, species owners do not create a closed species with the goal of closing off a concept from use. They do it to create a community they can manage and share a concept they have created. 

Take the world of Nephfei, created by the artist Queijac. The closed species of Nephfei are called Spinxyn, and they are very much sphinxes. They are not a brand-new concept Jac is claiming to have come up with, they are intentional and very direct references to sphinxes. What sets them apart is their species LORE, WORLD, and COMMUNITY.

[image ID: a screenshot of the Spinxyn species guide on deviantart, created by queijac. Text reads “IMPORTANT NOTE: Spinxyn are a species OF sphinx. Yes, they are sphinx, and yes of course anyone can make sphinx characters and designs using similar appearances! I claim no ownership over design aspects! Spinxyn as a CS community, however, which offers social art related activities, world building, themed events, etc., to use the characters in, simply relates to my own PERSONAL WORK and how i want to enrich peoples experiences with it! Please understand this, thank you!!!”]

This species is not closed so that Jac can copyright the idea of a sphinx. It is closed so that Jac has some control over the world and lore they have created. Were anyone able to create a Spinxyn without an approval process, not only would the community become too large to manage too quickly, but all sorts of Spinxyn with aspects that don’t fit the lore would pop up. 

[Image ID: screenshot of a message from Queijac in the nephfei official public Discord server. Text reads: “theres just a total disconnect that 99% of ppl making closed species are making. a Group...... its about.... the community....... and building the community around One concept that someone makes and puts rules in place for so that they can actually. U kno. MANAGE THINGS... and make a cohesive group experience....... the reason CS have so much popularity is because they come with a community, not because theyre 100% unique never before seen or heard of concepts”]

Jac explicitly acknowledges that sphinxes do not belong to them and even says that borrowing some spinxyn-specific appearance details is okay!!! The ONLY thing off-limits here is a WORLD, COMMUNITY, and LORE.

Except it isn’t. Because Nephfei also hosts not one, not two, but THREE open species of intelligent beings, plus NINE official species of non-intelligent animals, so that anyone can participate.

Claim 2: Species owners harass and police people who make similar concepts.

I touched on this already re:species owners are busy as fuck & Jac openly encouraging people to make sphinx characters and even borrow spinxyn-specific traits, but this note from ground-lion/seel, the creator of Chimereons, really does it for me.

[Image ID: a DeviantArt note from ground-lion to me. Text reads “hello, thank you for showing me this! we don't actively do anything to police offbrands, since it causes more trouble than i think it's worth. i like to avoid drama wherever possible, and it seems like most people who participate in offbrands are just looking to press people's buttons so we can't/won't do anything to these people, i think it is best to just try and ignore it and move on.”]

Here you have the owner of one of the arguably most shit on and hated species saying outright “we don’t bother doing anything about intentional ripoffs”. For context, this WAS 100% intentional, I had noted ground-lion about a user I saw posting adoptables that were LABELED “offbrand chimereons” (so if anyone was hArAsSiNg PeOpLe oVeR SiMiLaR cOnCePtS here, it was me, calling attention to intentional and stated copying). 

Sidenote: I think it’s shitty to intentionally steal a concept. Ground-lion has also said there is no issue with making anthropomorphic chameleon characters, just that chimereons were inspired by a set of traits, a word, lore, a desire to create a community, and their own personal stylization of anthro chameleons. It’s fine to take inspiration from how someone else stylizes an animal, but the degree to which people do it-- just outright copying every aspect of Seel’s work-- rubs me the wrong way. Not enough to say anything because that is only my personal opinion and because I do not have time for that shit.

The Dainty mod team + owner (Pajuxi-Adopts) also have a section stating that to make a design no longer a Dainty, all that’s needed are the following changes: 

[image ID: screenshot of Dainty species ToS. Text reads “ Visual edits must be made for discontinuation, here is our standard discontinuation options: - remove the stockings completely and give them fur like an actual satyr - keep the stockings and give them human legs - make them an anthro - keep the stockings but they MUST start at least a quarter to halfway up the bottom portion of the deer leg with a clear divide between the stocking and leg with fur poking out underneath - you are free to suggest your own edits as well! “]

This may be speaking specifically about discontinuing a former Dainty due to the context we found it in, but this means that a design is not considered a dainty if, for example, its stockings show fur underneath and are not part of the body. That’s it. That’s all they ask. Pajuxi is not saying “this is my closed species of SATYRS WITH SOCKS and if you DARE make a satyr with socks i will COME FOR YOU!!!”, they clearly state that satyrs with socks are an acceptable Not A Dainty. I personally think the lore behind the stockings being physically part of the body and all the specific rules they entail is interesting and original and I do not think it’s such a wild ask to say “hey, please respect this and if you see it, don’t rip it off on purpose. You can take inspiration in all these valid ways but I want to have some control over the concept I came up with”.

Claim 3: Species owners are rich elitists making small artists suffer.

Species owners are small, independent artists. Artists being hated the instant they get even moderate success (that’s still usually BARELY A LIVING WAGE) is its own huge discussion and internalized issues + capitalist brainwashing you all have to deal with on your own damn time, but I want to emphasize that someone making a living or even comfortable wage from their art is Good, Actually, and is something we should all be happy to see and want to see more of. 

Furthermore, no one is being taken advantage of. CS characters are a luxury item. You do not NEED one. If you absolutely will die without a sock deer, make one where the sock isn’t part of their body. If you will die without a chimereon, make an anthro chameleon and use your own ideas. If you will die without a sphinx character, I’m overjoyed to inform you that fucking nobody ever asked you not to make one. CS involvement is voluntary. If you don’t like them, don’t participate in them, but keep in mind that someone saying “hey, please don’t blatantly copy this design concept I spent time creating” is The Same Thing as someone asking you not to copy their individual character designs. You could live without stealing character designs. You can live without making something exactly like an existing CS. 

Claim 4: CS put concepts behind a paywall and make them inaccessible.

Again, these are a luxury item. Most closed species MYO slots cost $10-$45. That is not a ridiculous amount to aspire to. Closed species owners WANT people to participate in their species, so there are a ton of ways.

- Chimereons hold First-Time Owner flatsale slot raffles every single month to ensure people who are new to the community have a greater chance of nabbing a slot than existing participants - Dainties have an art prompt every month, which rewards every participant regardless of skill level one prompt point (the art can be visual or written). Six prompt points can be used to buy an MYO slot for free. If you desperately need a dainty and are flat broke, you can get a free one by writing 150 words a month for six months or doing one drawing each month. Skill level doesn’t matter, ALL participants get a point if they follow the rules. - I joined a raffle for a free pre-made Spinxyn. I did not win the raffle. Jac randomly decided to give out 7 MYO slots too, one of which I won. I entered a raffle that DID NOT HAVE MYO SLOTS AS A PRIZE and got one for free anyway. CS owners want people to participate, I promise. - Dainties just had a 24-hour turn-in event (that they warned about a month in advance so folks could prepare designs), meaning every single person who submits a design in that 24hr time frame gets a slot. Normally slot sales are limited in number and sell out in seconds. - Jac sporadically draws quicker, messier Spinxyn designs which always cost $5 and raffle-flatsales them on Discord. $5 is not a gatekeepy price. - Tomoyokis recently had a free-for-all event where everyone could claim either a free common slot or a $10 uncommon slot. These are just specific examples I remember of easier or free ways to get CS. Non-specifically:

- art = reward systems are common, so again, just writing or drawing enough can equal a free MYO slot or entry into a raffle for a pre-made design - many many species that are relatively new have FREE turn-in events or giveaways to build a community - free FTO slot raffles - paid but discounted FTO slot raffles - random free design giveaways - trading art for a CS character or MYO slot (I’ve gotten a dainty and two dainty MYO slots this way, and I realize not everyone’s art gets accepted, which is why this is a whole list of ways that don’t require artistic skill whatsoever)

So getting your hands on one isn’t the worst thing in the world. You might need a little luck (as in, you have a completely fair chance that is equal to everyone else’s) or a little dedication (6 months of wanting one, or having to have a design ready within a limited time for a free turn-in event).

Also, there’s a reason CS prices cannot change much: this causes issues with the value of all existing CS characters. Dainties will ALWAYS be $35. The MYO slot price will NEVER increase. If it did, all previous dainties would be worth less, or would have to have their worth increased, which is logistics hell. Inflation doesn’t affect CS the same way it does everything else.

Claim 5: ok but legally nothing is stopping me from making one lmaoo

That is true. It’s also true that there’s not really any effective laws in place to protect artists when they say “Hey, please don’t quote retweet my art on Twitter” or “Hey, please don’t repost my art even with credit”. Sometimes, we just respect artists and do what they ask because we are Nice Fucking People, but apparently, species owners are a whole different thing, evil, and do not deserve the same basic respect.

IN CONCLUSION

Talk to a CS owner. They’re reasonable and kind people. There’s an exception to every rule, of course, but what I’ve found overwhelmingly is that they’re literally just people like you and I who were excited to make something cool and share it with people. The emphasis is HUGELY on community. I used to dislike the idea of CS too, but since participating in them and talking a ton with the owners (who are super down-to-earth and active in their servers-- Jac helped me with a confusing horse video game and gave me a Free Horse in there), I’ve realized that the caricature of CS owners as greedy and bitchy, laying claim to basic concepts like A Cat With Wings, is just bullshit. The stereotype that CS community members are an angry mob who will roast you over a fire if you draw a chameleon on two legs is bullshit. The idea that CS are impossible to get, are for the bourgeoisie, and cost thousands of dollars is bullshit (I bet you’re thinking about scarfoxes right now. Hot take: I think it’s great that an artist is selling their intellectual property for that much. I think we all should be able to. I think if someone chooses to spend that much on a design they think would make them happy, that is literally not a fucking problem, and since it was their choice and their money no one is being taken advantage of unfairly. Let people buy the shit they want to buy, I promise you will fucking survive).

I like CS, I think they are neat, I wish people would give the owners a break. They are just independent artists like me. They get lied about and stereotyped over this stupid drama bullshit and they’re so tired and saddened when the subject comes up. They literally do not police anyone-- they don’t have the time or the desire, and it wouldn’t work anyway.

I won’t post CS content here anymore. But I like participating voluntarily in these communities. I don’t understand why that’s something YOU get to have a problem with.

Stay out of my inbox. Thanks.

[bonjour-rainycity]

The Siren

Requested by @lifm06: Jasper x Reader where the reader is a siren and Jasper’s supernatural mate, but she doesn’t want to hurt Alice after seeing them kiss. So she runs away and a rogue vampire turns her and Jasper finds her collapsed on the floor during the process. After waking up, she gets hungry for real food and this confuses the Cullens and they find out she only half-transformed but still gets all the same cool powers and stuff.

A/n Hey there, thanks for the request! For the purposes of this story, I messed with canon. Alice and Jasper aren’t married — he’s new to the Cullen family (like within a year or two) and is currently dating Alice, seeing if they’re a good fit. Also, I’ve vaguely set this one at a university, hope that’s alright!

Pairing: Jasper X Female Reader

Disclaimer: I am not making any money from this nor do I own anything recognizable

Word count: 2418

Warnings: Mild descriptions of violence

“And aside from your book selections, no homework over the weekend.” The professor grins conspiratorially at the rejuvenated atmosphere in the classroom. “You’re welcome. Enjoy Homecoming.”

Gathering my items, I exit the classroom quickly, hoping to make it to my car before anyone can flag me down. It’s been a long, stressful day, and I want nothing more than to go home and relax in a wonderfully hot bath.

“Hey, Y/n!” A high-pitched voice chirps from below my ear and a cold, skinny arm wraps around my elbow.

“Alice,” I beam, unable to be annoyed at one of my favorite friends.

“You’re coming tonight, right?”

I grimace, quickly searching for an excuse.

She squints, frustration etching lines into her usually-smooth face. As I decide on and then discard various reasons for my absence at the Homecoming party tonight, staticky visions fly through her mind, just hazy enough to prevent her from interpreting them.

She doesn’t know I know she’s struggling to see my future. She doesn’t know I know she has visions, or that Edward can’t read my mind, or that she and her family are vampires.

She doesn’t know that I’m not human.

My supernatural attributes are even more subtle than vampire’s. I look and act and feel and die just like a human, but something is off. Something is different. When I argue with someone, they agree with me. When I ask for a lower price, it’s given. When I sing, people have no choice but to follow, even if I were leading them to their death.

My voice holds all my power.

Although Alice and I are both not human, I haven’t convinced myself to tell her that I’m a siren and that I know she’s a vampire. I would, really, if not for one terrible, awful, life-ruining fact.

I’m in love with her boyfriend.

From the minute Jasper walked into the lecture hall, I knew he was it. I felt the call of the heart, the soul, the sea, whatever, because I felt it all. I felt it so strongly, I thought I might collapse under the force of it.

And he walked past my seat like I was nothing to him.

Crushing as that was, after some research, I began to understand it better. I come from a long line of sirens, so I have the benefit of being aware of other supernatural beings. To the Cullens though, I must appear to be nothing more than a Shield -- capable of blocking their powers, but a human still. There’s no way for Jasper to know my feelings, because we operate on different wavelengths. And because vampires live forever, they can take their time forming connections — it’s not immediate like it is for sirens.

So I resolved to be patient. Over the course of months, Jasper and I developed a close friendship, teetering on the edge of something more. It was thrilling, wonderful, and painful all at once.

And then, four months ago, my best friend Alice confided in me that she and Jasper had gotten together.

It had nearly broken me. And while I love Alice like a sister and would never interfere with her happiness, I also don’t want to put myself in a position where I might see her and Jasper together.

Hence my hesitance to attend the party tonight.

“I really do have a lot of homework—”

“Y/n please, half the school will be there,” she whines, tugging on my arm impatiently.

That’s true…half the school will be there…I can have a fun night and never have to see her and Jasper together. So without much more of a fight, I agree.

{***}

The party is loud and wild and messy and fun. I dance with friends and strangers alike, celebrating the success of our football team and the new school year. The gathering is much too big to be held indoors, so we dance in the moonlight, in a large clearing not too far into the forest. I’m never alone — someone always seeks me out. It’s an unintended side-effect of being a siren, one that, even after many years, I still don’t feel accustomed to.

One of my acquaintances, Cleo, pulls me to the side for another drink, and towards the entrance of the clearing, I see them.

Jasper, the one I am meant to be with, holds my best friend Alice tightly against him, kissing her fiercely.

Pain pierces deep in my stomach and I drop my cup, fighting back tears.

“I—I have to go.”

Cleo calls after me, but I’m already gone, running through the sea of people in the opposite direction, into the woods.

{***}

The moon is much higher in the sky when I finally stop running. Panting, I sink to the ground, not sure if I’m gasping from exertion or my sobs. When I go to wipe my eyes, I notice the blood on my arms. I must’ve run through brambles or thorn bushes, but I have no real memory of it.

The only thing I can remember is seeing my love with someone else.

“Why are you crying?”

I whip my head up, expecting to have been alone.

A few yards in front of me stands a man possessing the type of beauty only afforded to the supernatural.

And his eyes shine bright red.

Oh no.

“N-nothing,” I stutter, fear momentarily pushing the emotional pain to the side. “I was just taking a break from a party, but I should be getting back now.”

“Yes,” he murmurs, taking slow steps forward. “The revelry can be heard for miles — I will admit that I have been waiting for one to isolate themselves. The woods are dark and dangerous and when you mix in alcohol well…disappearances can be better-explained.”

I swallow at his menacing words, pushing myself up to my feet.

Before I can make any further movement, the man comes behind me, holding me in a vice-like grip. “Fear not, young one,” he purrs, stroking his nose along my neck. “I shall be quick.”

Resolve settles within me, and I remember who I am. I am a siren, and my voice is my power!

“You will not kill me,” I declare in the sweetest, most enchanting voice possible.

I feel him physically weaken at my words, but I waited too long to speak.

His teeth are already sinking into my skin.

White-hot pain, more horrible than anything I’ve ever experienced, rips through my body and, with a shriek of agony, I fall to the ground.

The vampire looks upon me with a mixture of regret and pity. “I will not kill you,” he murmurs, still caught under the force of my words.

And with that, he flees, disappearing into the night.

I don’t know how long I writhe on the ground, begging, screaming for someone to help me, to make the pain stop.

But it only spreads.

After what seems like an eternity, the pain covers my entire body, and my vision goes black.

{***}

“Y/n?”

Though the pain, an angelic voice floats to my ears.

I try to respond, to reach towards it, but all I can manage is a scream.

“Oh my God,” the angel breathes, horror apparent in his voice.

Is he in pain too?! Has the fire reached my beloved?!

I begin to panic, trying to claw through the pain to get to him.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright,” the voice soothes, pulling me into an embrace that feels like home.

He’s silent for a moment, cradling my head in his hand, and then he speaks again.

“This is the first time I’ve been able to feel what you feel…” His voice sounds breathy, dazed, and I try to open my eyes, without success.

As much as I want to stay here with him, to be cognizant of his touch, his voice, the pain is too strong, and I sink into its clutches once more.

{***}

When the pain finally recedes from my body, I open new eyes.

The world around me has changed too, it seems. Everything is sharper, clearer, louder, more intense.

And when I look down and see Jasper holding my hand, I realize that my feelings for him have intensified, too. Somehow, I love him even more than I previously thought possible.

He nods, gripping my hand tighter. “I feel it too.”

“Y/n.” A soft voice to my right requests my attention, and I reluctantly turn my gaze from my beloved’s topaz eyes to greet those of Dr. Carlisle Cullen. He offers me a hesitant smile, clearly trying to make himself seem non-threatening. “I’m glad to see you awake and out of pain. How are you feeling?”

I shrug, at a loss for how to describe it all. I still feel like me, yes, but I feel….more. I feel the input of heightened senses and the resilient nature of my new body. “Different,” I decide, knowing that word will have to do it for now. “Where am I?”

“At our home,” a voice answers from behind me, and I jump off the bed, having previously been unaware of this third guest.

Edward Cullen stands there, hands raised in the universal show of surrender. “I’m sorry, I should’ve made my presence known. You can relax now, no harm will come to you here.”

It’s then that I notice that, in the mere span of half a second, I have thrown myself from the bed and into a defensive position, baring my teeth.

It’s Edward, I remind myself. You know him, he’s nice. Calm down.

I force myself to relax. 

An intrigued look crosses his face. “I’d never been able to read your mind before today. I guess that’s an effect of the transformation.”

Transformation…meaning…

“I’m a vampire,” I realize, hands flying to my too-smooth skin.

“Yes,” Jasper breathes, placing a light hand on my arm. “I found you in the woods a few days ago, I’m sorry…I couldn’t stop it.”

He turns to face me then, regret plain in his features. I shake my head, wanting badly to stop his sadness. “No, it’s okay, I…well the pain wasn’t ideal, but that’s done now. I do wonder how this will fit with my other abilities, though…”

Carlisle furrows a curious eyebrow. “Your other abilities?”

“You’re a siren,” Edward gasps, pulling the thought from my head. “Or at least, you were…we’ll have to get Alice, see if she can see anything of your future. That might help us figure some things out.”

Alice. I glance to Jasper at my side, then quickly look away. I shouldn’t be this close to him. “Where is Alice?” Surely she would want to be here, as my best friend?

Edward shakes his head slowly, looking conflicted. “She wanted to be here, but she needed some time to herself. She—” he clears his throat, looking to Jasper for help.

Jasper squeezes my hand in his, prompting me to look at him. “When you changed, so did my future. It shifted and, well, didn’t include her in the way it might’ve before.”

Oh.

Oh!

Oh wow, I feel awful.

“Don’t,” Edward and Jasper protest at the same time.

“She’ll be alright,” Carlisle confirms, offering me an encouraging smile. “She has a world of other possibilities open to her, and she knows it. She’ll be back in a few weeks at most. And until then, we need to teach you how to be a vampire.”

I smile weakly, a twinge of discomfort in my stomach making itself known. “Can it wait until after dinner? I feel like I haven’t eaten in days.”

“Of course,” Carlisle nods, indicating to the nearby window. “If you follow us to the forest, we will teach you how to hunt.”

“Um—” I hesitate. “Won’t that take a while? I can smell the meat in the fridge now, could we just make that and go hunting tomorrow?”

I’m met with three sets of hopelessly confused eyes.

“You…want human food?” Jasper tilts his head, uncomprehending.

I stare at him, equally questioning. “Yes? Oh—” Realization hits me. “I should want blood, shouldn’t I?”

“Yes,” Carlisle nods, studying me closely. “You say you are a siren? Perhaps that stopped the full transformation from taking effect somehow.”

Worry pools within me. Am I not a proper vampire?

Edward shakes his head, knowing my thoughts. “No, you seem to be like us on the surface — you just don’t have the desire for blood. We should explore more in-depth though. For example, what of your lifespan? Will it be indefinite, or limited to the constraints of a human or a siren? Are you as strong as us, or are you holding on to human traits that make you weaker?”

Jasper senses my rising anxiety and places a hand on my shoulder. “There is certainly a lot to discuss, but we should do it after you eat.”

We go downstairs and Esme, one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, welcomes me with open arms and does her best to prepare the food she has on hand. I help a little, having been mortal the most recently.

After dinner, I meet the rest of the family, and they all join us outside for tests of my new abilities.

{***}

Nearly two days later, we’ve determined that I am a vampire.

Just not all the way.

It seems the siren in me stopped the full transformation from taking place, and I occupy a sort of half-state.

I am fast and strong, though not as much as my full-vampire counterparts. My senses are better than a human’s and almost as good as a vampire’s. My skin is just as hard and cold as a vampire’s. My eyes are currently red, though Carlisle thinks they will turn back to my usual color once my human blood fades from my system, providing I abstain from blood of any sort.

Perhaps the most interesting, is that my voice, already strong before my transformation, has only grown in power. I can bring Emmett—one of the strongest vampires we know of—to the ground with just a few words. It’s all very interesting.

The only matter we have yet to resolve is my life-span.

None of us know how long I will live.

My emotions tell Jasper where my thoughts lie. “We’ll figure it out,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

I sigh, leaning back against his chest and enjoying his embrace. Because whatever time I have with him, I intend to soak it up for all it’s worth.

A/n Thanks for reading! If you have a moment, check out my masterlist :)

[ka-writes]

——————

Notes: I had already started on the second chapter before I posted the first one, so don’t expect updates every day... I also had to do a lot of googling for this chapter.

——————

Chapter 1 in case you missed it:

——————

Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

——————

Warnings: Cussing, needles, character conflicts, intentional poisoning, poisoning, Jaws reference

——————

“Humans are [and text here]”

Chapter 2: What is this, an interview?

Tommy was now restrained to a chair six feet away from the weird scientist alien. He had a dark brown lab coat with a fuzzy yellow sweater underneath, matched with black pants and black leather boots. His gold rimmed Harry Potter glasses slipped down his nose bridge a bit before he pushed it up and shuffled through papers. He wore a red beanie with a big whiff of his curly chocolate hair. His skin was a weird translucent grayish color with blue speckles decorating it. He had deep brown eyes with an odd electric blue circle outlining the pupil.

His tongue licked his finger as he turned the page. This was a habit that most of the weird teachers and counselors did. It always annoyed Tommy. This time fear was also mixed into that annoyance. His saliva was tinted blue and he had sharp teeth which immediately reminded him of a shark.

“You have shark teeth.” Tommy stated absentmindedly. Clearly, this caught the scientist alien off guard.

“I have what?” The alien asked, confused.

“Shark teeth.. ya know like the weird fish creatures that eat people.” Tommy started rambling causing the shark-alien to become even more confused and slightly alarmed. “I mean I think they eat people. That’s what the shark movie showed… what was its name, Jaws I think? I dunno, my foster mom freaked out in the middle of it and we went home. That lady was weird.. She made us wear itchy clothes and take weird photos before she sent me back to the group home.”

“What?..” The shark-alien asked. Tommy jumped a bit. He forgot he was rambling to a stranger. Alien stranger at that.

“Doesn’t matter.. What's the first question bitch-boy?” Tommy liked the way the alien jumped at the randomly timed insults.

“Er- right.. First off, what’s your name?” The shark-alien asked after collecting himself.

“Tommy Innit. Yours bitch-boy?” Tommy replied.

“Wilbur Soot. Stop calling me bitch-boy!” Wilbur huffed.

“Next question, bitch-boy!” Tommy emphasized the name, getting an even angrier expression in return. Wilbur’s weird blue circle flashed red for a second which caught Tommy off guard.

Wilbur took a shaky breath before asking the next question. “How old are you?”

“Old enough! I am a big man!” Tommy stated. Yet another thing that pissed him off.

“Age?” Wilbur asked, clearly irritated.

“18.” Wilbur raised a brow, “14.” Tommy huffed. His age should only be his business not some alien-bitch who didn’t even have his file.

“If you keep lying, I may have to get the truth serum from the back.” Wilbur half-heartedly threatened. Tommy, the big man that he is, did not get scared at that statement, only slightly unsettled which clearly showed on his face.

“Now, do you have a family?” Tommy tensed at the question. It was a touchy question and was not one that was asked often especially with his reputation.

“I am a big man. I don’t need a family to be great.” Tommy stated, happy with the answer. The alien-bitch shifted awkwardly.

“Right… What is your diet?”

“Umm.. I dunno, whatever I can find. I am allergic to nuts though..” Wilbur nodded in understanding and wrote things down in his notepad.

“What plants are poisonous to you?” Wilbur asked without looking up from his notes.

“Ermm, poison Ivy, poison oak… uh I think parts of rhubarb, and most wild berries. I am not sure other than that.” Wilbur nodded while adding bits to his notes.

“What was the place you lived like?” This time Wilbur glanced up to look at Tommy. This was again another touchy subject… How many times would this alien bitch get into the sad background?

“Shitty.” Tommy snapped. That was the only response the bitch was gonna get.

“Right.. Do you have music on Earth?”

Tommy scoffed, “Of course we have music, dumbass!”

“Can you tell me about the animals there?” Wilbur asked, almost hopeful.. which was weird. What was he hoping for?

“Erm I guess..” Tommy mumbled, trying to figure out where to start, “There’s a bunch of animals. Mainly on land. My favorite would be the cow.”

“What’s that?” Curiosity stained Wilbur’s face. This got Tommy excited; he was practically beaming as he started talking.

“Well they are these big ruminants that make milk and have horns. There are a bunch of types too like the highland cow, which obviously is the most poggers one. They are a Scottish breed with really long hair. I met one once, on a field trip his name was Henry.” Tommy rambled on for the next two and a half hours, jumping from topic to topic and explaining anything that wasn’t personal. He usually ended those paths with short insults.

——————

Wilbur hated to stop the kids' detailed story, but two and a half celestial hours had already passed, and Dream would be coming to check soon. Luckily, he had a couple new poisons that could pass off as a research development. He had even managed to send the distressed signal and no doubt Phil would already be there with the SBI craft ready to fly at any given moment.

“Alright Tommy.” His voice dropped to a serious tone causing the kid to stop his story of how he got poisoned by mushrooms on a camping trip. “You’re gonna have to trust me just for a bit. I am going to get you off the ship at the next stop but in the meantime I need you to tell me how allergic you’re to nuts.” The kid immediately tensed at the question.

“I am mainly allergic to tree nuts.. almonds being the worst. After a few minutes I can’t breathe properly and I usually pass out. The doctor said if I don’t get it treated within 15 minutes, death is most likely.” He took a moment to go through the information. The kid most likely has an anaphylaxis reaction to tree nuts. Meaning either he would have to know the exact time of landing and exactly where Phil was or he needed another poison that was less severe.

“Alright, here is what we’re gonna do. I have a chemical mixture that is similar to that of rattlesnake venom. I also have a chemical substance that numbs any pain you may feel. Side effects would include being very very tired and delirious over the next few days. Along with being knocked out for a good ten hours. To put it simply I am gonna fake poison you, in order to get you off the ship. It’s your choice if you’re willing to do it.” Wilbur paused to study the kid still restrained in front of him. It was odd how relaxed the kid seemed to be in a situation like this. He had no urge as far as Wilbur was aware, to fight against anything that happened. His complaints only being those that touched on personal matters. It was unsettling to say the least, and intrigued Wilbur. He really wanted to unravel the life the kid had lived before this and how he was actually dealing with the situation.

There was a long pause before the kid spoke, “I wouldn’t mind getting away from the weird smiley bitch.. plus you seem nice and to know what you’re doing so sure. Poison me bitch.” He said the last sentence with an enthusiasm Wilbur wasn’t expecting. He took a moment to rethink his plan, which was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Dream says you better have advanced in your stupid testing. Otherwise he’s gonna kick you off the ship at the next stop.” Stated the rather rude blazeling, Sapnap. The blazeling never liked Wilbur and made a point to argue against any advancements at meals. That led to Dream installing a new system of emails and Wilbur eating meals alone.

“Yea yea, it’s going!” He yelled through the metal door.

“Better be.” The blazeling snapped before making a non quiet track back to his quarters.

“Stupid blazeling.” Wilbur grumbled as he sorted through vials and picked up new needles and measured out the substances. “We are going to start with the anesthetic then move onto the poison.” He softly addressed Tommy.

Wilbur swiftly disinfected Tommy’s shoulder and gave the needle. He then gave the second needle. Immediately Tommy slumped over. Wilbur swiftly took off Tommy’s restraints and moved him on to the patient bed in the back corner of the room. After the transfer was done he clipped the body restraints around Tommy and waited for the alert signaling landing.

After about five minutes the light next to the door turned blue. He moved over to his seat and clipped on the safety belts. The light turned green and the ship shook momentarily before a thud could be felt. Quickly as Wilbur could, he emptied the needles into the waste bin and waited for his soon-to-be-ex-boss to arrive.

Dream stepped through the door and glanced around the room before heading to Wilbur for his report.

“Report.” The dreamon commanded.

“The subject's body would have gone through a painfully slow death and have multiple organ failures if I did not intervene. The chemical mixes used created a conflict in the patient’s body which resulted in the patient falling into exhaustion as they recovered.” He responded in a monotone tone. Dream looked over Tommy. He flinched back in disgust as Tommy grunted in his sleep.

“Is that all?” The dreamon questioned.

“No.” Wilbur swallowed down his panic, “This is the last testing I will be doing with this crew.” The dreamon scoffed.

“I am assuming you’re getting off at this planet?” Dream spit. Wilbur knew he absolutely hated when people left his crew as he saw it as a direct violation of his loyalty.

“Yes.” The phantom stated, keeping his even tone apparent. With that Dream stormed out cursing in Siestian. Somewhere in the mess of words he told Wilbur to get his things.

Without hesitation he grabbed his bag from his quarters, which was held in a small room that branches off the lab. He half sprinted down the short hallway and straight to the bed Tommy was on. He swiftly unrestrained the human and sat him up. He slipped on boots and gloves then tied a cloak around the kid. He pulled the hood up and carried him off of the closest exit. There were faint yells from Dream down the hallway and reassurances from the only two beings that put up with him. And with that Wilbur was off to find the only craft he had ever called home. The SBI ship.

——————

Chapter 2- End

Words~ 1774

——————

End Notes: ‘‘twas to lazy to reread... sorry for minor mistakes. Also suggestions are always appreciated!! Please reblog...

——————

Chapter 3:

——————

Wilbur:

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

heres a Hell's Studio fic idea for ya, both Sammy and Snowflake end up sharing Snowflakes body for a week due to a pipe bursting and covering the two in ink

Poor Sam can never catch a break, can he?

Was it mentioned before that the Ink just loved to fuck around with the Music Director? Because it just really loved messing around with the guy. Maybe he had the funniest reactions in its mind, maybe the bitter bully of magic art supplies thought of the man as someone who needed to be taken down a peg or two, or maybe it was just that the music department had the worst pipe setup in the entire studio, thus making it the hot-spot area for magic ink related mishaps and had also made Sammy the most common victim of those said mishaps not out of spite, but sheer coincidence as he was simply almost always in that constantly-flooding area.

You can't exactly sound sane when you're constantly complaining about getting wet while you live in the splash zone.

But whatever the case may be, a solid 90% of the shenanigans that the ink had in store for someone usually fell on Sammy’s head. And some days it felt like the stuff only bothered to mess with others if it meant that could mess with the irate musician at the same time.

Today started off fairly normal for the studio and its residents; same bustling rhythm of a symphony of pencils, same small talk chats in the break room, same ...workplace accidents.

Snowflake was trying to fish a mouse out of a crack in the wall for curiosity's sake when Sammy heard the tell-tale groan of a pipe about to burst coming from within the deep hole in the wall. A groan that if years of working in this inky studio hell had taught him anything, was going to be a particularly bad break.

Acting on instinct, the musician grabbed the imp and pulled him away from the crack but it was too late, the pipe burst over both of them, making the little demon flop down into a large inky pool.

"Not again!"

Sammy sighed to himself as he shook off the access ink and noticed that his surroundings were much taller than they usually were. God there were days where he wondered why he didn't just quit and looked for a quieter and less stressful job that DIDN'T involve losing his humanity and peace of mind every other week. The music director reached out to where he swore Snowflake was, only for his hand to touch nothing but ink.

That was... concerning to say the least. Sammy swore that he held on tight to the little guy and didn't dare let go, he had to be somewhere in the pile of magical gunk.

"Don't panic Sammy, the ink wouldn't bring someone to life only to melt them away after a few weeks, right?"

And yet, the more he looked around, the more it seemed like that there was only one person in the ink pile. And the more the musician had felt a large pit of dread churn in his stomach.

"SNOWFLAKE?! SNOWFLAKE, WHERE ARE YOU?!"

The music director frantically dug through globs upon globs of ink, internally praying that the imp was simply shrunken to six inches like others had been instead of melted away only to find nothing but ink, ink, and more ink. The man's panic-clouded mind did not register the fact that he his hands had the same gloves as the little demon did. Or maybe it did, but the man decided to focus on the more important part of the situation; the missing toon child.

"Oh god... Oh god, what am I going to tell Wally?!"

"Mr. Sammy?"

Snowflake's voice called out, jolting the musician with a mixture of relief and that slightly annoyed feeling people get when it turns out that they were panicking over nothing.

"Snowflake! Where are you? Why did you stay quiet when I called out for you?"

"I-I thought I was looking for you! Where did you go?"

"Where did 'I' go?" Sammy parroted as he frowned and searched. "I'm right here..."

The man's voice trailed off as he finally fished something out of the ink pile: his own, heavily ink-stained empty clothes.

"SAMMY?! What happened to you?!"

Snowflake called out in worry as he looked over the empty outfit while Sammy just looked at the clothes in annoyance.

"That &#^$ing ink again..."

Who was controlling the body now? Either both of them or one of them, but neither of them could give a straight answer as the Sammy-possessed Snowflake marched on down to Joey's office, climbed on top of the other chair, paused for a moment as the body couldn't decide whether to gently place the clothes on the animator's desk or to slam them into it and wound up just dropping them on it instead.

"Snowflake my boy!" Joey greeted in his usual chipper tone. "What brings you to my office today?"

"M-Mr. Drew, I.. Sammy is.. Sammy and I got caught in the ink and then-" The little demon stiffened for a bit and a frown crossed his features, while his voice did not change, his tone and mannerisms certainly did. "I'm stuck inside Wally's kid's body, and both of us want me out of it."

"Okay! Don't worry, I know exactly how to fix this and it'll only take a jiffy!"

Joey retrieved several ritualistic items while humming to himself, but when he reached into his desk drawer he froze up for a second then started frantically rifling through it.

"O-oh! Oh dear... Um.. Excuse me for a minute."

He walked out of the room and dialed up a number on the phone, the pair of souls stuck in one form crept up to the door and put his ear against the door, only managing to get one half of the conversation.

"Hello? Yes, it's me again. Do you have any 'scones' in stock?"

"A week?! Are you sure?!"

"No, I don't doubt it..."

"Yes, yes, of course, I understand."

"...But how do I break it to them that they're stuck like that for until Monday?"

"Well, yes, this does happen often... But it's not like I WANT it to!"

"You know how magic gets!"

"Thank you, I'll see you Sunday night then. Goodbye."

As Joey hung up, Snowflake zipped back to where he was sitting earlier. The man walked back into his office, sighed, and shook his head before sheepishly looking up at Snowflake and Sammy.

"I'm sorry you two but I'm afraid I have bad news; I'm missing a key ingredient for the reversal spell and I can't get it until Monday."

The demon's head clonked down on the desk, letting out the longest, most tired sounding muffled scream that Joey had ever heard, clearly from the music director. Don't get him wrong, he loved kids and wouldn't mind spending the week with Snowflake under non-magic-ink related circumstances. But he wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of being a kid again himself and also possessing somebody against both of their wills for any amount of time.

"Now ...Sammy..? There no need to worry, we've been through this before."

"He knows, he's just upset because aside from the weirdness of this, he and Susie were planning a date night on Friday and now they're gonna have to reschedule it again."

'He didn't need to know that!' Sammy mentally hissed.

"Nevermind, they weren't planning a date in the first place."

Sammy internally facepalmed.

"Terribly sorry to hear that then." Joey fidgeted with his tie nervously. "...I'll give you the paid leave while you're like this."

"Thanks, Joey."

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

Wally wasn't quite sure if he should laugh, cry, or do both when he brought Snowflake and Sammy home.

The Janitor was used to weird stuff by now, heck, most of the time it felt like something crazy and magical happened every week. But there's 'the ink turned every piece of furnature in the building into cake' weird and then there was 'the guy who's technically your boss is possessing your son and now the power dynamic is weird.' weird.

Both of them seemed quiet, which was normal for Snowflake but slightly concerning for Sammy. Wally half expected to hear a long rant about 'the &$@#ing ink that should NOT be magical, seriously, who in their right mind pumps a studio full of MAGIC INK?!' or at least something that indicated that the music director was in there.

"So uh... how ya feelin' about the whole 'body sharin' thing champ?"

"It's kinda like sharing a room with somebody who doesn't want to be in it in the first place and also it's like having a bunch of songs stuck in your head that you want to listen to so that they can get unstuck except the songs technically don't exist yet."

"Okay, and what about you, Sam? you've been pretty quiet."

"How do I usually feel about these kind of things, Wally?"

"Fair point."

As Wally and Snowflake talked to each other, Sammy wondered if he was going to be staying at Wally's place throughout the week, or switching days between his own place and Wally's. Either way, it felt like this was going to be a very long week.

[avillicit]

The Camboy, part 2

Part 1

IMPRISONED FOR HORNY CRIMES

Summary: Mischa gives birth to his monstrous brood during a stream.

Contains: rapid pregnancy, trans mpreg, non-consensual impregnation, non-human offspring, bugs, lactation, dirty talk, mentions of drug use, bodily fluids, explicit birth, multiple orgasms, and sex work. Written by a non-sex-worker, may contain inaccuracies. Please ask if you need any triggers tagged!

~

incubus90: ha! looks like your water broke.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. Mischa barely had time to process what was happening before an intense pain ripped through him, something like period cramps but a hundred times stronger. He doubled over, hugging his massive belly as he moaned through the contraction. By now his arms just barely made it around his stomach. The things inside of him thrashed violently in a bid to escape his womb.

incubus90: does it hurt, baby?

incubus90: do you like it?

“Fuck you, Nick.” But his clit still ached with need, somehow even more desperate than before. The pains of labor set off the same fireworks as rubbing his belly, as feeling the creatures kicking inside him, as teasing his leaking breasts. Another contraction dawned, and he cried out in an intoxicating mixture of pain and arousal. The skin of his belly, already stretched to its limits, tensed somehow further. It was all he could do to keep himself from collapsing onto the bed.

“What the fuck do I do?!” he groaned to his audience.

queentwink: aaaaa fuck

alleykat: just uh. try to breathe

incubus90: she’s right. breathe.

incubus90: the contractions are going to get closer together.

incubus90: in a minute you’ll need to see how far dilated you are.

“How do I check that?”

incubus90: you’ll need to use your fingers.

incubus90: push them allll the way to your cervix.

incubus90: four fingers should be sufficient.

Logically, the idea of spreading his legs and putting his fingers up his pussy shouldn’t have embarrassed Mischa--he literally did it for a living. His regular viewers had seen him impale himself on a Bad Dragon at least three times before. And yet, the suggestion that he check how dilated he was made Mischa go pink.

As he contemplated this, another contraction slammed him. They seemed to be getting worse; the sheer agony of this one radiated through his entire body. Desperately, he rubbed his swollen belly in a hope to somehow calm the creatures who so urgently wanted out. It was useless; whatever was inside of him needed to be born.

He rode the waves of several more contractions, whining and writhing in a desperate bid for relief. After the pain of the fifth finally subsided, he took a moment to breathe before removing his underwear. It was harder than he expected, as he had to maneuver around the swell in his middle, but soon enough he was free. He laid back on his elbows, at an angle so he could still see the laptop screen. His legs spread, exposing his dripping opening to his viewers, he pushed two fingers in, deeper than he ever had before. The feeling when he found his cervix was electric. His pussy was hypersensitive, twitching with every little movement. 

incubus90: good boy, spread your legs for the camera.

incubus90: let them watch you pushing out your babies.

Mischa rolled his eyes and pushed a third finger in, and then finally a fourth, testing how far his opening had stretched in preparation for birth. Lightning streaked through his mind, his cervix twitching around his digits.

Just then he was wracked with another contraction. He moaned strings of incoherent blasphemies as he played with his clit through the pain. Soon he found himself panting with the effort. There’s something about breathing during labor, right? How does that work?

“Four fingers!” he called out to the webcam once his womb was calm again. “You said that’s enough, right?” He could see himself in the camera, impossibly big and obviously enjoying every torturous second.

incubus90: good boy!

incubus90: you’re almost ready to push.

incubus90: how far apart are your contractions?

Another came just then, drawing a howl from Mischa’s throat. He gripped the sides of his belly tight, and the “babies” thrashed against his palms. “They’re--they’re coming closer,” he answered through gritted teeth. “And I think they’re--ah!--lasting longer, too.” He panted and moaned through the contraction, clutching his belly tight. The pain faded out, then returned almost instantly, denying him the kindness of a moment to catch his breath. “God, they’re right on top of each other!”

incubus90: that’s good.

incubus90: there’s only one thing to do now, love.

incubus90: push.

“Fuck, this is happening so fast…” As the next contraction welled up, he bore down and pushed as hard as he could. The sounds he made were barely human, more like a dog in heat. His opening spasmed as he tried to expel the creatures inside him. Tips were coming in every few seconds now, a steady rhythm of chirp! chirp! chirp! just barely audible beneath Mischa’s groaning. More contractions came and passed, and he pushed through all of them. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripped down the back of his neck. And just when he thought they were never going to come--

lovextums: holy shit i can see it!!

Mischa looked at himself in his laptop. Sure enough, there was a flash of white peeking through the lips of his pussy. He grinned weakly. When the next contraction came, he gritted his teeth and pushed like his life depended on it. Inch by painful inch, something wormed its way out. His hole burned, and he could’ve sworn his vision cut out for a millisecond. The creature was still stuck half-inside him.

incubus90: you’re doing so well.

incubus90: just one more push.

Mischa whimpered as yet another contraction came. He was exhausted.

incubus90: you can do it, mischa.

incubus90: push for me.

He bore down once again, both hands on his stomach. The burning sensation intensified, and he was sure he was going to tear. Then there was a sickening squelch and a gush of fluid, and it finally emerged.

Mischa forced himself to sit up to get a better look at it. It looked to be some sort of grub, six or seven inches long and about as wide around as a grapefruit. Its flesh was ghost-white and iridescent, and it had two rows of tiny legs like a caterpillar.

alleykat: what the fuck is that

bellyk1nks: that was fuckin hot

crs9: is that an alien??????

Mischa stroked his poor swollen belly, feeling a surge of pride in his chest. Whatever that thing was, it was finally out and he did it all on his own. Well, mostly on his own. Eighty-five percent, maybe. His breasts were leaking, making two little streams of milk run down his belly, and his sheets were smeared with a strange purplish fluid.

incubus90: i’m so proud of you, love.

incubus90: one down, who knows how many more to go.

Panting softly, Mischa kept massaging his abdomen. He deserved a break, right? Just a minute to catch his breath?

Evidently the creatures inside him disagreed. Not even a minute had passed when he was gripped with the next contraction. He doubled over in pain, almost falling onto his laptop. It was almost a relief, knowing he had more inside him, waiting to be birthed. Part of him would have been sad if it were over after just one.

The second grub came easier, crowning only minutes after the contractions started back up again. Mischa moaned loudly again as he gripped his belly, but this time it was out of pleasure more than pain. The way the creature's body stretched his walls was better than anything he'd ever experienced before.

After the second came a third, and then a fourth. This one was bigger than its siblings, almost the size of a newborn human. The skin of his stomach tensed and released, over and over, as Mischa dutifully panted his way through the contractions. He threw his head back and keened when he finally felt the head at his lips, the now-familiar scorching pain inside him more intense than ever. He teased himself as the creature slid out of him, agonizingly slow. The final push sent him over the edge, and he found his climax just as the thing fell out onto the towel underneath him.

incubus90: such a good boy. 

incubus90: you look so beautiful like this.

incubus90: swollen with my progeny.

incubus90: dripping with sweat.

incubus90: delirious with pain, trying to birth these monsters all on your own.

He tried to fight it, but Nick's words sent sparks through Mischa's body. His clit, still torturously sensitive from orgasm, perked up again as another grub descended into his birth canal. He cursed under his breath as the labor pains returned, and his hand automatically crept back to his poor ruined slit. 

This one came to crown fast, and Mischa felt himself shake with the sensations of the grub's body brushing against all the sensitive spots inside him. Then as soon as it was out, there was another, and another, and another. By now the process was second nature to him, the pains as familiar as breathing. On the sixth grub, he felt another orgasm building, and then again on the ninth. He rubbed his belly mindlessly in between contractions, moaning like a porn star and rocking his hips every time another contraction came. Every few minutes Nick typed compliments into the chat.

incubus90: you're so beautiful.

incubus90: so fucking beautiful. 

incubus90: i knew you would be.

incubus90: i knew you were meant for this, baby.

Each message only served to make Mischa blush deeper. As yet another climax hit around the time the eleventh grub crowned, Mischa found himself groaning Nick's name, and he couldn't say whether it was from annoyance or desire.

The last two grubs were almost too much to bear. Mischa's arms and legs were shaking from exhaustion, his swollen chest and belly heaving. Every push, every pain was overstimulating. Nick's earlier description was all too accurate; Mischa was completely delirious. He didn't know whether hours or days had passed, only how many creatures he'd birthed. Rivulets of milk streamed down his chest, changing direction at the curve of his belly and dripping onto his bedsheets. His stomach had deflated significantly, but he continued to rub the swell as he howled and panted through the last of his contractions. His voice was hoarse now, and every sound he made came out a little creaky. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the twelfth grub found its way to his entrance, and he made a few noises like a broken squeaky toy. Either his body had finally found its limit at eleven grubs, or this one was much larger than all the others before it. It was even worse than the first grub, when the pain was new. Mischa was sure he was going to be torn open. Both hands grabbing his belly, his eyes sewn shut with concentration, he groaned through wave after wave of contractions. The creature descended so slowly that at first Mischa wasn't sure it was moving at all. Then he felt his opening stretch further as the widest point of the grub's body passed through. His clit began to throb and spark again, his hips twitching as the grub slowly emerged. Inch by inch, he pushed it out of himself, feeling the pressure in his clit build alongside the pain. With a final push, the grub popped out onto the towel beside its siblings, and Mischa shook as the contraction wrung one last orgasm out of him. 

He laid there panting, propped up by his elbows, convinced that had to be the last one. Then after a moment, he felt another pain in his womb. He gritted his teeth and pushed, bringing it to his entrance almost immediately. It was a little one, and he barely would have felt it plop out of his stretched hole had he not already been overstimulated by a ridiculous succession of orgasms.

He collapsed onto the bed, rubbing the little mound of his belly. His skin was sticky with sweat, milk, and that strange purple fluid; his muscles were sore; his breath was ragged. After several minutes, he finally realized with a mixture of relief and disappointment: he was done.

incubus90: you did so well, baby.

incubus90: i think you deserve to rest now.

incubus90: why don't you say goodbye to all your friends?

Mischa nodded. Propping himself up again, he smiled weakly and gave a little wave to the camera. He managed to sit up and turn the stream off with significant effort, and noted with pride that today's performance had earned him just under a thousand dollars. Maybe later, after taking a shower and a long nap, he could edit the footage and sell it somewhere. Apparently there was quite a market for this stuff.

He let himself fall back onto the soaked bedspread, and laid there among his squirming brood for awhile. He knew he should have been upset, traumatized by what had happened, but all he could feel was the ache in his muscles and a warm sense of contentment deep in his chest.

Suddenly, Mischa's phone buzzed. He groped around beside his laptop to find it, and pulled the phone close to his face to read the message he'd received. 

Nick: i'm coming by soon to pick up the grubs.

Nick: do you want me to bring you a refill?

[owelineuro]

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[imagineclaireandjamie]

Is The Breakup done? Or might we get more? (Please?)

The Breakup is, I’m afraid, complete for now. 

But have a new one instead

Deep Within The Darkness Peering: Part i: Chapter One:

Tension hung thick in the air like an acrid mist, clearing the A&E waiting room slowly as the crowds of waiting patients dissipated in an eerie calm. Silence, an odd ebb in the usual rush, filled the large room as a group of nurses waited expectantly by the closed front doors of the hospital. It was a rare occurrence, the ringing of the blue phone, but one that made the whole place still when its shrill tone echoed along the corridors.

“Do ye think it’ll be someone dangerous?” Someone whispered from within the group, the breathy tone making it almost impossible to discern who’d voiced the question.

The group, small and made up of recently qualified and transferred nurses, all looked at one another, their glances a mixture of worried and intrigued. In the centre of the busy hub of the nurses station, the innocuous phone sat - hardly ringing - a dark contrast to the red emergency phone that was never silent. It was the central line from the city’s prison to the hospital and signalled the arrival of one of the inmates. Usually, minor injuries could be treated by the onsite doctors and it was rare for anyone to need external support. Which made it all the more interesting when it did ring.

“Beauchamp!” With the secondary waiting room devoid of life, the doctors’ voice rang out clearer than usual, making the collection of nurses jump and turn as if in tune with one another.

Claire raised her hand, timid at first until her confidence renewed and she felt more able to identify herself from the rest.

“It says in your file that you’ve a background in trauma? You published a paper, yes?” He was clear, his tone steady and sure. He already knew about her pre-med training but was clarifying the fact loudly as if to assert himself, making his decision seem solid to the rest of the staff.

She nodded, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Yes, doctor. I did.”

“Then you’ll assist on this one. It’s tricky, be prepared. Have you ever seen a transported patient before?”

“No, I haven’t…”

“They, depending on the severity of their offence and their priors, come with a swarm of guards. These tend to get in the way- it being their job,” he continued talking as he turned away from the room, expecting Claire to follow in his footsteps and not waiting or turning back to see if she’d done as he’d assumed she would, “not to allow their charge to make a bid for freedom whilst they’re here recovering. That means they have the opportunity to get in the way. Be forceful with them. They won’t be offended by you being brusque, in fact they probably prefer it that way. In return, if they’re not in the way, you’ll ignore them...studiously. We have a job to do, no matter the crime, he’s being punished for that. We don’t judge, just heal, that alright?”

“Yes, doctor.” She said again, convinced that her interest had been piqued too much to be interested in judging the man - rather, she just wished to collect as much experience as possible and this was a step in the right direction.

As they turned the corner, a flurry of activity caught her eye and it quickly became clear that the original code had been a false positive. A ruse designed to draw attention away from the real entrance of the affected prisoner.

“Ready, nurse?” Another colleague asked, appearing with her hands coated in foam from the sink.

“As I’ll ever be.” She returned, smiling courteously as she began scrubbing in.

Once cleaned and redressed, she stood quietly with the rest of the team as they waited for the head of surgery to arrive. The mask covering her face made it far more difficult to breathe than during her initial training and residency, and she had to hold her hands together in front of her to stem the shaking. It wasn’t the task that was causing this initial panic, but the build up. The calm before the storm which allowed silly niggles to escalate doubts within her mind.

But as the door slammed open and the prostrate man surrounded by paramedics and prison guards entered, all non-medical thoughts cleared from her mind and she immediately stepped into the breach.

Noise levels rose as machines beeps vigorously and doctor began passing tools and hurling instructions and observations at one another. Swept away by pure instinct, Claire made sure she kept her ears open, her hands passing various pieces of intricate equipment and dabbing open wounds with cloth as her well-trained mind swung into action.

It was only afterwards, the swirl of chaos extinguished in the small OR, that she noticed his hand -limp and pale- chained to the bed. Her stomach rolled and she had to swallow back the bile as the heart rate monitor beeped, it’s anguished howl calmed for now by the sutures and stents inserted by the doctors and nurses.

With the procedure at an end, Claire couldn’t help but step back and look over at the young man lying in front of her. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-four, the bruising and excess swelling adding something darker to his otherwise friendly looking face. His high cheekbones were tinted red, the fresh flush of blood flowing freely beneath his skin as his body began to heal. He was handsome, in a rugged sort of way but even with the lofty presence of the cuffs and the guards standing silently around her, something niggled at her. He didn’t *look* like a dangerous criminal - although, of course, looks could be deceiving. Unable to quite put her finger on it, she stepped back, being careful not to knock into one of the accompanying wardens, took a deep breath and turned to free herself from the stagnant air gathering in the room.

He looked innocent, she told herself, muttering the word to herself as she joined her fellow nurses out in the wash room. Her uncle Lamb had often poked fun at her innate ability to discern individuals’ characteristics - it didn’t happen as often anymore, not like when she was a teenager - but every so often she’d get a glimpse into someone’s soul, their aura calling to her like a colourful ghost as she stood cautiously beside them. The prisoner had been in pain, that would’ve been obvious to even the most casual of layman’s, but there was something besides that. A more prominent pain, an anguish set apart from the physical element of his wounds. And beyond that, a sort of goodness that only inhabited the rarest of humans.

“Claire?” Nurse Fitzgibbons nudged her arm, bringing her back to the present as she shook off the thought and looked over at her boss. “Did ye hear? Yer to stay wi’ him, aye? Be close by and tend to him as he wakes. Doctor Bain says he’s no longer in danger but it’d make me feel happier if he were being closely monitored. Just dinna mention it to him directly.” She winked as she walked off, as if divulging a wee secret though they’d all been made painfully aware on their first day how truly irascible Bain was. Not a man to be crossed.

“Of course…” she returned, a thankful smile covering her face as she pulled the cap from her head, throwing it into the bin with the other discarded clothing, “...I’ll make sure he’s well tended to.”

-- --- --

Despite her usually busy schedule, Claire had managed to keep her promise to Glenna. Whilst taking her lunch break, she had snuck her sandwiches along with a small cup of tea into the suite, skirting the fatigued guards as they sat playing as many games of snap as they could.

On the first day she had read his chart. She knew most of the injuries, having seen them first hand in the OR; she had, however, learned his name and his age and part of her was almost brave enough to ask his entourage what he had been incarcerated for (they certainly seemed friendly enough) though, for now, she was happy to just put a name to the face.

James Fraser was just twenty-four. He had multiple lacerations to the back, sides and neck that had clearly been embedded into his flesh with something far more punishing than hands and feet -but nobody seemed to be talking abowere the level of brutality to which he’d been subjected. Her heart twinged at the thought and she developed a deeper affection for nurse Fitzgibbons who seemed to have silently realised that before anyone else.  His face had been swollen enough that one of his eyes wouldn’t have been open had he been conscious, his cheeks covered in mottled bruising.

On the second day she had taken some reading material to accompany her during her breaks. Continuing with her task, she read to herself at first, carrying her charity shop literary finds with her on her rounds before ducking in to sit for a while with young Mr Fraser. By the end of her working week she had taken to reading aloud much to the prison officers amusement.

“Do ye think Fraser can hear ye?” One had asked just as she’d gone to leave on the seventh day, just as her midweek weekend was about to begin.

Scratching her head she turned to glance at his much healed face. “He can hear, I’m sure of it.”

“How can ye tell?” The taller of the two men replied. “I used to read to my mam afore she passed. I hoped she could, but she never gave any signs that she did. It all felt a wee bit hopeless.”

It was the first hint at conversation any of the stationed guards had given making Claire late for clocking out as she placed her book back in her pocket and shrugged her shoulders. “He moves, shifts a little. And his mouth lifts as if he’s smiling. It’s happened a few times, but especially when I come to a funny part. His coma is induced though, and it’s light. He’s reacted more as the week has progressed so it gives me hope, it’s a sign that he’s fighting through the worst of it.”

The short, older of the guards scoffed, rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath before turning and walking away.

“I take it he isn’t fond of your charge?” She asked the remaining guard, the question she really wanted to ask burning holes into her tongue as she bit the inside of her mouth to stop herself from asking it.

Twisting to glance at his friend and colleague, he waited until he’d turned the corner to answer. “Nah, do you ken what he’s serving time for?”

Claire shook her head and took in a hefty gulp of air. Her heart was racing at a million miles per second, her palms sweating madly as she wiped them against the side of her scrubs.

“He assaulted a cop, someone close to him. Did a damn good job of it too, if you ask me. That’s how he came to such harm. Some of the guys, wrong as it may be, dinna take too kindly to prisoners who are guilty of hurting our own and although they don’t encourage inmate on inmate violence, they’re no’ exactly going to rush to their aid either.”

“What about you?” She asked, breathlessly, not knowing exactly what she was asking.

“Between you and me?” He returned, his voice lowering even further, waiting for her to signal her agreement before continuing. “The guy he’s supposed to have brought to harm isna a nice man, nor is he pleasant to work with. Not that he deserved it, o’ course, but on that alone I’m willing to suspend my own judgement on the poor guy. He’s serving his time, for better or for ill and I willna be a part of anything that sees any man left in this state.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.” Holding out her hand, she shook his firmly, passing him her pager number as she did so. “I’m Claire, Claire Beauchamp...and if anything happens whilst I’m away, or Doctor Bain comes back to bring him around, I’d be really grateful if you could give me a buzz, please?”

“Mackenzie,” he returned, placing the wee card in his top pocket and tapping it lightly as he smiled across at her, “Rupert to my friends. It’s lovely to meet ye, Claire. I’ll make sure I do.”

With that she waved a short goodbye and headed straight for the break room, her weary legs buckling as she pushed the heavy door and fell into the small space.

[eatsyou-a]

@ymagishi​:     ✂️       /   destin just wants me to kill yukako,  please don’t send me this

        in  the  midst  of  a  dimly  lit  room,     he  hums  in  almost  happy  tune,     a  half  empty  bottle  of  sake  to  his  side.      having  just  finished  such  a  beautiful  meal,     lips  take  a  sip,     not  before  noticing  someone�� familiar  standing  outside  his  door.       ‘     come  in,    yukako  -  chan!     ’       the  sword  is  gripped  tightly  within  her  palm,     unsheathed  and  standing  right  before  him.       there’s  a  lack  of  surprise  is  evident,     fingers  gripping  the  neck  of  his  bottle  to  set  it  down;    curious.      ‘    oh?    ’     and  he  wasn��t  stupid,     he  knew  exactly  what  was  going  on.       she’s  confident  to  finally  raise  her  blade  against  someone  so  foul.

         .  .  .    this  has  to  happen,    douma.

eyes  blink  slowly,     then  turn  to  mock  of  sorrow,     shoulders  slumping.      ‘    hm,    i  guess  it  does,   huh?     ya’  know,     i’ve  been  getting  in  trouble  for  keeping  you  alive  for  so  long!      anything  to  appease  him!      ’      when  he  moves  to  stand,     the  tip  of  the  sword  is  mere  inches  from  his  nose.      ‘     yukako  -  chan,    please  make  your  death  an  honorable one.     i’d  really  hate  to   dishevel  your  memory!     ’      a  smile  is  placed  back  on  his  face,     however  with  a  hint  of  genuine  sadness;     even so  that  he  doesn’t  realize  it.      ‘    i  did  enjoy  our  times  together!      it’s  okay,    i’ll  take  good  care  of  you  after  i  kill  you.    ’      in  his  words,     getting  another  pot  to  stick  her  decomposing  head  inside,     and  consumption  of  the  flesh  so  her  being  won’t  be  stained  by  something  such  as  death  in  a  “  non  - existent ”  afterlife.

suddenly,     he  grips  the  blade,    the  metal  digging  into  his  palm  for  a  river  of  blood  to  coat  his  hand.     he  shows   no  signs  of  letting  go;    the  pain  isn’t  there  and  the  wounds  are  already  healing  up.      he’s  not  worried.      never  was.       ‘     sorry,     but  i  won’t  allow  myself  to  die.      he  would  be  upset!     ’      with  the  force  just  within  his  fingers,     it’s  a simple  bend,      easily  breaking  the  blade.       although  he  knows  a demon  slayers  resilience.     something  like  this  wouldn’t  set  them  back.      it’s  annoyingly  admiring.     they  should  really  give  up  when  it’s  so  obvious  they  were  dealt  the  losing  hand,     but  it’s  what  they  chose  the  instant  they  took  up  the  duty  to  slay  demons.       ‘     and  don’t  worry,     i  won’t  cut  your  hair.       if  i  do  that,     your  head  wouldn’t  look  good  in  my  collection!     ’

standing,    hands  grab  the  fans  that  rest  at  his  side.      it’s  the  first  time  his  looming  height  bred  intimidation.      ‘     i’ll  cause  as  little  pain  as  possible  to  you!     i  don’t  want  you  to  suffer  for  your  final  moments ——     ’       even  while  broken,    it  still  penetrates  his  throat  and  intends  to  slice  it  for  an  easy  opening  on  the  next  swing.     rainbows  are  wide,    stunned.       ‘     yukako  -  chan  ——     ’      claws  reach  out  to  grip  her  wrist,     walking  towards  her  with  confident  steps.     doing so  causes  the  it  to  be  pierced  further and  further  in  his  neck  until  flesh  meets  the  hilt.       ‘     almost!      you  were  close!      maybe  you  still  have  a  chance.     ’       the  strength  holding  her  in  place  doesn’t  falter,     face  getting  close  to  hers  with  a  wide  smile.      ‘    you  cut  me  off!     why,     when  you’ve  listened  to  me  so  well  in  the  past!     ’       just  like  the  blade,     fingers  turn  to  twist  and  snap  her  wrist  to  break  and  shatter  the  bones.       ‘     so,    i’ll  return  the  favor.      empty  your  heart  out,    yukako  -  chan.      i’m  listening.      no  judgements  here!     ’

instead,      he  gets  no  response,     only  furrowed  brows  and  gritting  teeth.      don’t  show  you’re  in  pain,    you  know  better  than  to  talk  about  your  life  story  to  a  demon  such  as  he.

‘     .  .  .   nothing?      such  a  shame,    especially  when  i’m  the  only  one  who’s  able  to  hear  you  in  your  last  moments!     ’       he’s  pouting  now.      out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye,     her  free  fist  comes  with  the  intent  to  collide  and  hopefully  shake  him  off.     a  hand  quickly  moves  up  to  block  the  hit  with  his  fan,     blinking.      ‘     ah!      i  knew  you  were  strong,    but  you  surprise  me.     ’       and  just  as  she  was  about  to  play  with  the  weight  and height  difference  to  ones  advantage,     a  flash  a  silver  slips  past  her  eyes,     and  after  a  brief  moment,     her  arm  falls  to  the  ground  and  blood  spurting  from  her  wound.       ‘      any  longer  and  that  would’ve  been  troublesome!      ’        now,     a  broken  blade  is  lodged  in  his  throat,     stabbing  directly  into  the  spinal  cord;     but  it  seems  to  have  no  waning  effects.      what  you  expect  of  a  demon  of  this  caliber.       

‘     you’re  very  skilled,    yukako  -  chan!       would  you  mind  if  i  keep  this?     ’       grabbing   the  hilt,     it’s  almost  a  sickening  sound  when  it  parts  from  bone  and  flesh,    coated  in  crimson.       ‘     it’ll  be  like  a  souvenir!      now,     i  would  like  to  keep  this  is  as  clean  as  possible!     ’       an  unfamiliar  hilt  is  heavy  in  his  palm,     lifting  it  and  admiring,    seeming  at  its  craftsmanship.       ‘     whoa!       wasn’t  your  blade  red  before?     hm.     ’       a  shrug  but  he  doesn’t  toss  it  to  the  ground,     he  holds  it;     very  unnatural  for  someone  like  him.       ‘     please  stop  moving!       let  me  help  you.      you  helped  me,     after all.     ’       his  voice  is  gentle,      and  with  a  wave  of  his  fan,     ice  vines  spurt  from  the  ground  to  hold  and  encompass  her  body.        ‘     there!     ’       with  one  last  look  at  metal,      it  swoops  down  to  sever  her  other  arm.      beautiful  ice  is  now  stained  by  blood,     a  victim  whom  he  deemed  as  close.        it’s  so  far  gone  now,     maybe  he  misses  it;     but  it  comes  and  goes.      this  was  bound  to  happen.

‘      you  won’t  be  in  pain  for  much  longer.      soon  you  will  a  part  of  me!       this  was  bound  to  happen  from  the  start,     ever  since  you  stumbled  upon  my  temple!      like  you  were  a  lost  child  asking  for  guidance.     ’      his  hand  is  placed  upon  where  a  heart  should  be,     tears  now  freely  flowing  from  his  eyes.      ‘    you  lived  and  fought  for  so  long,    only  for  this  to  be  your  end!      how  sad!      i’m  so  proud  of  you,     yukako  -  chan!      this  world  must  be  tough  for  someone  like  you!      no  one  will  miss  you,     but  i  will!      i’ll  be  the  proof  that  you  existed  fruitfully!     ’      sinking  to  his  knees,     he  envelops  her  in  a  hug,     a  physical  touch  so  rare  in  its  own  right.       ‘     you  will  be  remembered,    i’ll  make  sure  of it!     ’       this  situation   .  .  .   it’s  uncomfortable.      he  doesn’t  like  it.      so  open  to  difference  and  change,     it’s  it’s  like  killing  someone  you’ve  known  for  years;   by  your  side  to  encourage  to  see  past  toxic  and  poisonous  views.     like  a  child  himself,     in  the  dark  to  be  manipulated  to  slay  and  kill  your  loved  ones   .  .  .   but  he  has  none.      a  lack  of  experience,      rare  morals  strike  up  but  immediately  get  pushed  down.      this  is  how  it  must  be.

pulling  away,     the  tears  are  never  ending,     fingers  running  through  her  hair.      ‘     i’m  here,     yukako  -  chan.      don’t  cry.     ’       but  she  doesn’t.       ‘     you  get  to  be  a  position  where  only  the  most  dedicated  of  my  followers  go!     are  you  ready?     ’      nails  graze  her  cheeks,     moving  to  ghost  the  pad  of  his  thumb  over  the  iris  of  her  eye.     a  delicious  treat  he  will  have  to  wait.       standing  up,     one  hand  holds  the  fans,    the  other  the  sword  still.       it  spins,     the  tears  stopped  but  his  face  isn’t  flushed,     eyes  aren’t   glassy  and  faded;      instead  they’re  brightened  and  excited.      ‘     here  it  is——     your  enlightenment!     ’       the  blade  is  gone  and  vanished,      now  cutting  through  bone,    flesh,    and  nerves;     a  head  decapitated  from  the torso,    split.      now  the  swords  mixture  of  human  and  demon  blood,    dripping  with  respite. 

watching  the  head roll,     hair  untouched,     rainbows  take  one  last  glance  to  the  weapon  as  he  lets  it  drop  from  the  hold.      the  smile  falls,     his  own  head  tilts  as well  before  bending  to  grab  it  off  the  ruined  tatami.      ‘     yukako  -  chan.      don’t  look  at  me  like  that.      you  put  yourself  out  there  for  me,    it’s  your  fault.     ’       with  that,    fingers  dig  into  the  eye  socket,     pulling  out  the  retina  and  placing  it  on  his  tongue  to  bite  down  with  another  crunch;     it’s  bitter.

this  victory  doesn’t  feel  as  sweet  as  it  should.

[drdiabolical]

I Never Sharpened My Teeth - Chapter One

Content Warnings: Dark, Not A Fix-It, Psychological Torture, Human Experimentation, Captivity, Shock Collar, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Dehumanization

// Fandom: Naruto // Rating: Explicit // Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence // SFW // No Smut // No Ship // dldr //

Summary:

Kakashi wakes up on the day of his father's fateful mission and intercepts it the only way he knows how on a time limit: by killing the instigators. Trapped in the T&I Department of the Kekkei Genkai Obsessed Bloody Mist, he knows what he must do to prevent the fourth shinobi war but finds himself without the means necessary to do so.

Read here on Ao3

Except:

Consciousness did not return to him slowly. It was a quick and panicked thing, slipping into his system and shocking his nerves alive, firing shots across his synapses, and flaring his chakra. Breath funnelled through his throat and lungs like the impact a waterfall made on the pool below it, crashing against the surface and striking underneath, the rapid intake of oxygen squeezing his lungs and hurting him more than it helped.

“He’s hyperventilating,” a voice said and he tried to lock onto the sound to no avail, he couldn’t see anything and his hearing was muffled. His body tried to thrash reflexively at whatever was suffocating him, the knowledge that it was his own inability to regulate his breath meaning nothing to his nervous system. Panic thrummed through him as he failed to identify the threat and then failed to understand why he was having such a severe overreaction to waking up in an unfamiliar place. He was a shinobi, he’d been in situations like this before.

He had training but none of it was kicking in.

Flaring his chakra intentionally to manually override his malfunctioning reflexes, he gasped as his control vanished in the face of an all-encompassing block. Without a means to wrestle his control back over his rationale, his heart sped up threefold, and his tenuous grip on reality slipped away. Time passed, he was certain of it, although he was not aware of the specifics of its passing, only that it had. For what good it did when his first impression upon his captors was already ruined and dripping with weakness, his second waking adhered to his interrogative training. Something must have happened for him to react so rashly but the memories before he was put under escaped him.

He knew it was wartime. But in a war between the moon and the combined might of the entire continent, there were generally no prisoners. So he was not a POW, which left a limited number of possibilities in its exclusion. ‘Hospital’ was the first scenario to come to mind but he didn’t feel heavily injured and a stay in a medic’s tent wouldn’t require chakra suppressing seals. Unless that was the reason why he was being treated, which aligned with his lack of notable injuries.

Although, his body did hurt. The aches were what woke him up, a mixture of repercussions from chakra exhaustion and something else as of yet unidentified.

He was sat up, oddly enough, his proprioception returning to him. Not sat up in the sense he was propped up on the small incline hospital beds allowed but rather he was sat on a chair and held ram-rod straight against the backrest. The strappings holding down his limbs, body, neck and forehead against whatever he was sat on were probably partially responsible for the majority of his aches accounting for however long he had been restrained for.

The set up did not bode well for his hospital theory and gave credence to his previously dismissed ‘prisoner of war’ assumption.

“He’s awake,” someone ahead of him said and he mentally cursed at the futility of his efforts to maintain the illusion that he wasn’t. Whoever had captured him had to have been monitoring his vitals, one point to the hospital theory.

He redacted all points from the hospital theory and sent it down in a blazing trail to the negatives when his captor removed his blindfold and his eyes adjusted to the clinical lighting.

Although it occasionally went by different names, Torture and Interrogation was not an institute unique to Konoha. Fortunately, the only T&I Kakashi was familiar with was Konoha’s but it didn’t take much to connect his predicament to the severe Kiri-nin in front of him and come to a daunting conclusion.

Read the rest on Ao3

[beacon-sanctuary]

Chapter 1: Let’s Start Off School With a Shadow Fight

Introduction, Ch.2

Note from Headmaster Ortiz: No student or faculty was harmed in this event, please do not sue us, thank you

       Soaring in the sky sits a behemoth of a vessel, it’s sleek, bronze metallic wings rake against the clouds while its pointed nose thrusts forward.  Propelled by its ringed tail the airship makes its way towards a coastal fortress and university.  It’s towering scarred walls topped with snow while within its fortification sits a number of sprawling buildings, each ranging from dusty ancient to sparkling present.  Though once more returning to the vessel sits an excited person in a grey cloak. Bouncing and nearly jittering in their cushioned seat as they and many others gaze at the approaching settlement.  This androgynous cloaked individual was rather short, hardly reaching five feet and surrounded by a number of taller and increasingly varied passengers.  Some looked like regular humans, while others looked as if they were elements personified.  People made of plants, clouds, fire, and even space dotted about the humans around them.

But this peaceful ride was briefly stopped thanks to large thump which shook the vessel, though before long two shots rang out like thunder overhead.  Silencing the chatter in the hull as a static screech echoed from the intercom.

“Alright ya Lil’ twerps, whoever’s scared, or thinkin’ of anything worrisome, calm the heck down!” A gravelly voice grunted, “ ain’t tryin’ to have a war this close to the academy, so whoever ya are-hug somebody or somethin’!”  said the annoyed captain who grumbled something like you, Yella-belly kids, today before turning off the mic.  

     And right after that, the storm of chatter returned, as the grey cloaked individual hand snaked around a cool, galaxy patterned die.  Fondling it in their tawny hand as they slightly winced at all the noise, but still, despite all this, they still looked on with excitement as they now began their descent.  With a whine in its gears, the ship landed among a cleared out space, folding its wings into its frame as a ramp eases down.  And in a flash, the cloaked individual rushed to exit the ship but before they reached the ramp they were cut off by a boy in a jade Oni mask, stopping in their tracks as they gave a small chuckle and apologized.

“Hehe, Whoops-sorry about that, got excited, Oh! Right, the name’s Eir by the way what’s yours?”

      The boy in return only gave them a tsk, walking down the ramp, with one long rat tail flopping every way, in fact, it nearly struck Eir in the face.  Eir, now squinting in confusion and annoyance was about to give him a piece of their mind but was quickly silenced by the now shoving crowd behind them.  Now, as everyone has finally gotten off the airship, the group of teenagers now found themselves staring up at a towering, barrel-chested man who’s brown overcoat was nearly too small for his arms.  His light brown face has a jovial smile, beaming with joy among his brown-grey bush that was his beard.  And honestly, he looked messy, hair and beard were disheveled, didn’t tuck in his dress shirt, pants were too baggy, etc etc.  Fists on his hips the headmaster drew in a large breath and said,

“Welcome to The Academy future Beacons of the world,!”  he boomed to everyone’s bewilderment “Bully on you for keeping up to good fight, I hope you will enjoy your time here with fondness and memories that shall last to the end of your days!  I am headmaster Micah Ortiz! Headmaster Izusa is in the main building now, making the final preparations for your innagura-”  Seeing a tawny hand raised he paused before saying  “ah yes child, do you have a question?” he yelled at a shocked and blinking Eir.

“Uhh, Headmaster, can ya tone it down a bit, I don’t think my ears can take it” they pleaded to the now confused headmaster.

“Nonsense child, this is my inside voice! Hahaha, but if you prefer, I’ll try and lower myself to a whisper!��  Which in his case was normal talking volume, as in Eir’s mind they had a newfound fear, what the heck is his outside voice then? “Now as I was saying, your inauguration is just in front of you, now then,”  with two claps of his hands a row of floating blue flames made a path forward, leading the group towards their destination.  And as they began their march forward, Eir with stars in their eyes excitedly bounded towards the headmaster.

“Oh! Headmaster, can you do magic?!” they asked excitedly to a hearty chuckle

“Hahaha, no I’m afraid, I’m a human as well my child, I only activated the trigger, now Izusa, she is indeed a magi, so be on the look for her, if she, shows herself that is” he spoke less enthusiastically at the last part. To this answer, Eir groaned disappointingly but immediately perked up into a bit of confusion at the last statement, shrugging and just assuming the headmaster was being weird again they continued the march as the Headmaster continued to talk, almost as if he needed no air with how long he went on.  But finally, they reached the main building, it seemed like a regular university, wide brick building with beautiful Greco-Roman inspired architecture, but unlike most this too has many scars across its walls.  And around its structure were an assortment of runes, etched into the earth around it, all humming with a rainbow of magic energy, while on its flanks were two cannons and automagic guns respectively.

      Making their way through the wooden double doors, they saw a moving mural across its walls, an owl soared forward in the sky with a scroll and magic in each talon, its space patterned body leaving a multicolored trail in its arc, as jutting up from the ground stood a bi-horned lion atop a jagged cliff of rocks which transitioned into a new form. A monkey made of ink hung from its tail painting another splatter of art which revealed a flaming nine-tailed fox, growling and sneering as in its stalk, ultimately gave way to unicorn stampeding forward, blazing the path with a storm left in its wake.  Most of the people looked upon this mural with awe, as they began to follow the headmaster to the last of the blue flames, creaking open the dual doors, the headmaster ushered the students to their seats, but surprisingly, a few rows were already filled by a number of other students before.  And in Eir’s case, they got sat beside a boy with a messy Afro and skin that was black as the night sky with a blue nebula patterned across his body. He looked like an embodied, specifically the void it seemed.  His black sclera sapphire eyes gazed at Eir with brief interest before he gave them a back nod saying,

“Sup, names Orion” he said nonchalantly, his baritone voice had a slight drawl to it as he spoke

“Heya, I’m Eir, nice to meet ya, guess you’re from the south huh?”  Eir was kicking themselves for that, dang it books, why didn’t you teach me conversation skills they thought as Orion gave them a chuckle as he said

“Heheh, Naw, brah, toootally from California maaan~” he smirked playfully as Eir scoffed,

“Oh I do declare, you’ll have to forgive good sir, I had no idea” they fired back with an accent of their own, and then afterward the two began to hit it off as the loud headmaster joined a bored-looking woman.  Her skin was a deep brown and bore wood-like patterns, while in contrast her “Hair” was made of an assortment of fall colored leaves with a green vine wrapping around her head, it seems most of her hair matched the winter season as beyond this short canopy of hair are two yellow-black rams horn.  She wore a tattered patchwork hooded brown cloak and some formfitting pants with a pair of cowboy boots.  But the thing that was the most shocking about her was that she was armed to the teeth.  At her back was a hunting rifle and bow, across her waist was a utility belled with bullets, a grappling hook, a pistol, and a knife.  Oh, and she had a quiver strapped to her left thigh.

Headmaster Ortiz made his way atop the stage as he stood in front of two podiums, and five other individuals sitting on both wings of said structures.  One was made of metal, and painstakingly crafted with many details, meanwhile the other seemed to erupt from the ground in a mixture of branches, roots, and vines to make a podium made of plant life with at its base, a single arrow made of wood and vines impaled to the stage floor.

As the students began to chatter once more Headmaster Ortiz began to sigh fondly, but as he was about to say something he saw Izusa get up with a pistol in hand, eyes widening, he mouthed no, as he caught eyes with the masked headmaster who only rolled her eyes before, bang, bang two shots from her revolver rang out, silencing the kids as she motioned them towards her fellow master, who was massaging his head for a moment, whether it was from stress or the sound no one knew.

“A-ahem, thank you Headmaster Izusa, for that sporting assistance in starting things off. Children, thank you for your patience, I am sure you’re all excited to begin your time as beacons in training, or in other words, Torches.  Bully for you!  All of you are about to carry a long history on your backs, one spanning from the earliest formation of Humans and Magi, the beacons to fight against the shadows which plague our peoples since our incep-”

“Alright let’s get down to the point, what classes will y’all be?  Alchemist, Guerilla, Artificer blah blah blah” Izusa interrupted with a hand on her hip to which she saw Micah cough into his hand

“Very well put Headmaster Izusa, as you’ve just heard Beacons indeed have a number of fields, five of which to be exact which we specialize in. And now, please welcome to the stage our professors!”  One by one five teachers strolled forward, and as each person walked into the light, each headmaster traded introductions.

“Professor, Alexander Blum!”  Leaning back from his non-mic, the Headmaster motioned his arm to present a man with large wild silver locks with the strongest cheekbones you’ve ever seen across his pale, wrinkled skin.  He dressed in a black overcoat with red velvet lining. Each of his steps echoed across the wooden stage as his amber eyes stared through every student with a ruthless analysis.  

“After Mr.Grumpy over there we have, Alto Jackson, the Artificer professor” Izusa droned as with clicking heels, there now stands a middle-aged man with dark brown skin and a short cloud where his hair should be, and arcing through said black cloud were arcs of grey lightning, his relaxed sky blue eyes studied the kids with a calm smile across his face, jazzily tapping he nodded at the two headmasters as they continued

“Professor of the Guerilla class, Arthur Dutch!” Micah said as a fair-skinned man with a dust-stained black cowboy stalked forward, flipping a knife lazily in his hand before tipping his hat with a whistle in the kid’s direction. And at his side walked stood an Asian woman with a long raven braid spilling across her shoulder while she wore a flowing coat which stretched to her thighs with a  metal-plated skirt above her dark grey pants tucked into a pair of combat boots, as at her side are two blades, sheathed on her left hip.  One a katana and the other a tanto. She bore a playful grin and with a light chuckle politely waved at the students

“Professor Cahira everyone, go on Headmaster Megaphone lets get to the fun part”

“Hahahaha, very well, last but not least allow me to introduce Professor Aisha  El-Said” And after his words, a woman wearing a green hijab stood in the middle of the teachers with a pair of goggles atop her head, while the rest of her clothes were a fusion of comfortable and durable. At her waist was a collapsed jade staff flowing with magic energy.  With a booming clap, the human headmaster began to speak/yell once more,

” As my co-Headmaster said, it is indeed time for the fun part.  Our professors have made a special treat for all of you.  Thinking it not sporting to have you all choose without any incentive, they’ve decided to give you a demonstration so to speak, now then, Headmaster Izua, if you would do the honors!” smirking wickedly Izusa upholstered her rifle and shot three bullets into the air above everyone, but when they expected to hear nothing, the sound of metal getting struck whiled their head around every which way, as the sound of monstrous growling and ear-splitting cries sounded behind them as in an instant, a pack of shadows surged towards the students, appearing similar to deranged, inky black coyotes, but before even a hair of the shadows touched them, massive roots broke through the earth and ensnared the shadows, as looking upon the stage, they saw Professor Blum with a conductor stick in hand was leading the trees like a masterful orchestra.  

      And after writing in the air an orange circle of runes burned in the sky, as he took in a deep breath and blew a plume of fire towards the trapped shadow, incinerating it and the root to ashes.  Fixing his cuff-links, he stiffly raised his stick into the air as an assortment of rocked erupted above, but in an instant, the patters of feet sounded as Cahira dashed atop the newly erected rock mass, slicing one coyote in half, before instantly kicking one to the earth, rolling in the air she launched her blade towards the stunned form of the shadow as it pierced its body instantly as she gracefully landed upon the pommel of her blade, as it now sits among the inky remains of the shadow as she patted Eir on the head.

       Flicking his hat Arthur snapped his hands to his side as in between each knuckle now sat eight knives, each flowing with black-purple energy.  Throwing his blades one after another he caused each one to ricochet off the other, sending them arcing at multiple other shadows, impaling each through the head without breaking a sweat.  But right when they were about to move again, the energy encased them rapidly before they were destroyed in an instant.  It seems despite his appearance, Arthur was a void magi.  And to his left, there was Alto, digging in his tuxedo’s chest pocket he pulls out a paintbrush and dabs it twice on the paint-stained cloth on his waist, and as some shadows were about to attack some students he drew two clouds of paint in the sky and blew them forward as they surrounded the students and rained fire and lightning respectively on the shadows.

      And while this was happening, Aisha launched her uncollapsed javelin at the shadows and impaled one to the ground, hopping off the stage, she landed next to her staff and lifted it from the ground, with the shadow still attached she twirled and swung it at the other pack member, careening them both to the base of the stage before spearing them through.  Another coyote tried to bite at her but she slammed the other end of her staff upon its head, destroying it instantly. And now there stood each professor, each finished with their assailant, each seemingly saying now choose.