#soul swapped

[sylvana-the-tsarina]

This story was just one rabbit trail of What-Ifs after another, all inspired by the tale of Tam Lin. Thanks, Red.

To Become a Lost Soul

Janet had perhaps seven years to her name when she met them.

It was a brief encounter, but a vivid one, such that she was still processing it when they met the second time. That second time was a visit, a visit from the Fey, and Janet had never in her life been so terrified and awestruck.

She’d never seen her father look so frightened either. Graeme was a large man with a solid sturdiness to him that made one think he could shoulder a mountain if he so wished, and though he had a kind soul, it was the type to be hidden from the observer behind a thick beard and stern grey eyes. Needless to say, to see him almost cowering before them was more fear-inspiring to her than the Fey themselves.

How many of them glided into the grand hall of the fort, she did not know, for the Fey leading the procession drew her eyes and the rest blurred into a muddle of sharp smiles and rustic grandeur in a certainly unnatural way. This Fey was their Queen, so her posture and crown proclaimed, and she was ethereal. A tall figure that towered over everyone, long hair that swept the floor, and such narrow beautiful features. The smile would have been friendly if there wasn’t so much teeth to it; clearly she felt at home in their wood & stone manor with its richly woven rugs and tapestries, despite her simple flowing robes and bare feet.

Her eyes swept the room once before landing on Janet’s form hiding behind her father, and the smile grew wider. Smiles should not be so terrifying, is what Janet thought to herself while her father placed a protective hand on her head. Smiles should make a person feel nice. Smiles should say they’re harmless.

The Fey were anything but harmless.

“To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?” her father’s voice rumbled. He had solidified again somewhat — likely their interest in his daughter had triggered his paternal instincts.

“My, such a charming young man,” the Fey Queen crooned. Her voice was strange in a way Janet couldn’t place, the tone as though she wasn’t talking to them, but rather about them. “You must be her father. It is only right that such a lovely child would have a lovely father. How befitting indeed.”

The full weight of her gaze was once again resting on Janet’s face, and though her knees threatened to give out beneath her, Janet ordered her expression to morph into a properly friendly smile. No teeth, not from her.

That seemed to satisfy, or perhaps delight, the Fey, whose smile grew to truly unnerving lengths as she said, “Such a sweet-ling! Her presence in my abode to-day was quite the pleasure. She fairly brims with potential. Potential, so much potential indeed… it would be such a shame to see it wasted.”

“Wasted, fair lady?” The man’s tone was cautious.

“Why, indeed. Though she possesses charm in abundance, true grace is that of the fey’s; grace that will take her far in the world, grace that I shall bequeath her.”

“The fair lady is excessively kind in her gifts; my daughter only meant to extend hospitality as she has been taught,” Graeme said, quiet and careful.

At the time Janet couldn’t understand it, couldn’t understand that her father had just saved her from owing the fae a debt whilst giving the Fey Queen a mild push to retract her offer, without outright denying her. She couldn’t imagine the way she would turn that string of words over in her head for years to come, marvelling at the protection it had given her. Just then she only understood that it made the Fey Queen either very angry or very amused; the light that flared in her eyes wouldn’t let Janet know which it was.

The Fey Queen tilted her head and gave a little laugh, the sound like the ones the birds made when scared from the bushes. “Such a family is certainly deserving of gifts periodically. Do you not think it so, Tamlin?”

“Yes, Mother.”

That was when she first saw the boy.

He was definitively Fey; the way he flowed forward from the rest of them to stand next to the Queen when she addressed him, the paleness of everything about him (from his eyes to his hair), and the calm lack of expression on his face were distinctly not human. But while he resembled his mother somewhere in his features, he lacked her eerie otherworldliness, instead projecting a serenity and safety that eased Janet’s death grip on her father’s cloak.

Their eyes met, and though his mask didn’t move (why did she think it was a mask?) she thought she saw some curiosity and… fear in his eyes.

Why was he afraid? He was one of them. What was so scary about Janet in comparison?

This puzzled her enough that she would have missed what was said next if it hadn’t come from the Queen.

“There is much Tamlin can learn from the sweet-ling, I am sure, so I will have him present the gift,” she said, placing her hand on his shoulder in a way that would have mirrored Janet’s father if Tamlin hadn’t stiffened ever so slightly when she did. “Be a good boy and give it to her, Tamlin.”

The boy-Fey was motionless for a moment, still looking at Janet without a change in his expression. She got the feeling he was hesitating.

“Mother, perhaps-”

“Yes?” The Queen’s voice had gotten dangerously soft.

“It is nothing. I will give her the gift.”

He glided forward then, stopping a pace or so away from them, and Janet cautiously stepped forward to meet him, her father’s hand sliding off her head without resistance. Perhaps it was Tamlin’s presence that allowed it; perhaps he was the reason she could hope this wasn’t all some menacing trick.

The boy-Fey held his hands out and Janet placed her hands there, marvelling at how niveous he was. She glanced at the Queen, who was smiling eerily once more, then at her father, whose eyes gave her support, before looking at Tamlin again. It was then that she saw the apology in his eyes — and the very real fear.

Why is he afraid? she thought again. What could I possibly do?

And then it slowly occurred to her that perhaps she wasn’t the one he was afraid of.

Before she could do anything, he closed his eyes and began murmuring a strange chant that was taken up by the other Fey in the room; a chant made of sounds she didn’t understand how he could make, one that flowed around Tamlin and herself, and seemed to reach deep inside her heart, looking for something.

She was getting light-headed with the way it was reverberating around the room, ancient and otherworldly and wild. Oddly enough, though Tamlin’s expression was still composed, she could feel his hands shaking too. This did not sit right with her, so she squeezed them with what little energy she could muster, and felt him tighten his hold in response, as if he was asking reassurance and giving some simultaneously.

It found what it was looking for, the chant; found it, and then began to take it, dragging that something away from Janet. Something very important and integral to her, because it hurt and it hurt worse than fire. She would have uttered a cry, or screamed, but the chant had taken her energy without her noticing, and it was so loud, and she could only feel pain, and she couldn’t feel anything, and it was so dark, and she didn’t exist, and it was too bright, and nothing was real besides the fact that Tamlin was still holding her hands and she was holding his.

He was going through whatever she was going through, she knew without a doubt, so she kept holding on to him until she could blearily blink her eyes open and see that they had both collapsed onto the floor, sweet silence permeating the room.

It’s over, she thought with a sigh that felt strange. It’s all over.

Then her eyes closed and darkness overcame her.

------

Later, her father would describe what happened as remarkable. The chant had brought out a light from both Janet and Tamlin, and their lights had flowed through the room, filling it with scents of berries and wild leaves and wet earth and stars, and livening the colours in the air, before it returned to them and everything settled once more. The Fae Queen had smiled down at the sleeping children and swept away without another word, leaving one of her entourage to pry apart their hands and take Tamlin’s unconscious form away.

Graeme had then scooped her up and brought her to her room, where her nurse (and their resident herbalist), Kenna, was summoned. Kenna had checked over her and identified nothing wrong, but the both of them had waited in fretful patience for Janet to wake up, anyway.

This all she heard perhaps a day or so after the incident. As it were, she came to in her bedroom, tucked in snugly under blankets with Kenna asleep on a chair nearby, the fireplace blazing comfortably. She lay still for a moment, a strange heaviness in her limbs, and then slowly sat up, feeling the last traces of strange dreams fade from her memory.

Something was wrong.

Her eyes skimmed the room, wondering what it was, and her uneasiness both lessened and grew when she couldn’t identify anything off. The blankets were slowly eased away, and she lightly pattered on to the floor, avoiding making any noise.

Why did she want to avoid making noise?

Janet stopped, puzzled. She’d never had a problem with being loud before. Graeme and the rest of the adults had nicknamed her a walking fireplace with how she blazed through the house, hopping about and uttering cheery remarks and filling the place with her warmth. Not that she was loud in a boisterous sort of way, she was too well brought up for that, but this sudden desire to be utterly silent was quite new.

It must be because the Fey’s visit was so frightening, and she didn’t want to distress poor Kenna’s nerves. Yes, that must be it. She was worried about Kenna.

This resolved, she glided over to where the windows were and drew the curtains aside to let light spill into the room. It was really too stuffy in here. Not enough air and light. Janet needed air and light; she couldn’t go without them.

She stopped again. Really? Were air and light so necessary? Well, however did she manage to go to sleep at night, then? Her father always closed the windows and curtains at night; it was too cold to do otherwise. Thinking about that now, though, made her feel kind of claustrophobic. What about the stars? The moon? The scent of lilies in the breeze?

Her head was aching, so she put a cold hand to it (why was she so cold?), hoping that would ease the pain. The sense of wrongness was strong — so strong. Why was Janet thinking all these things? What on earth had happened to her?

A little shimmer caught her eye, so she turned to look at what it was. That standing mirror wasn’t new, with its worn gold filigree and carved legs, and the girl it reflected back at her was familiar too…

Except…

Almost in a daze, she gently flowed forward and studied the person in the mirror. That was her figure, to be sure; small round freckled face, tiny button nose, large green eyes, and a head of thick, curly, brown-red hair. Everything she recognised as herself; everything except the expression on a face that was paler than it used to be.

That expression was familiar, though. She had seen it last on a snowy boy-Fey whose hands she’d held until they were taken apart.

Many minutes (or perhaps hours) passed as she stood there, stunned by that revelation; everything seemed suspended and still, her mind blank with disbelief. She was so absorbed that Kenna’s cry of surprise startled her to the point that Janet, the old Janet, would have jumped and uttered a cry herself, but she only gracefully tilted to face her nanny, carefully concealing every bit of dread and fear, though she did not know why.

---------

Everything was wrong.

He knew everything would be wrong. However, it was one thing to know and altogether another thing to experience. Wrongness could not be properly understood without feeling it oneself, and Tamlin would have preferred to go his entire life without understanding it.

The grass was uncomfortable under his cheek, and it took most of his willpower to prevent himself from shifting in discomfort. He had to understand before he did anything — a mindset he was thoroughly relieved to find still with him.

Where was he?

Ah. Right.

Still he kept his eyes closed, but strained to listen and feel everything he could from his surroundings. It was all the same- he recognised- and yet-

So new and unknown and terrifying. Off by a little margin. Dampened and hushed.

He was so scared.

Was that…. water… on his face? Why was there water on his face?

This phenomenon puzzled him enough to distract momentarily from the fear, and he sifted through his knowledge, trying to figure out what was going on. A few blurred moments later, two memories surfaced. One that was familiar, and the other that was new.

Crying. So that’s what it was. He was crying.

How strange. Tamlin had never cried before (or at least, he didn’t remember ever crying). This seemed to him to be a rather mellow kind of crying, if those other memories served him right, one where his tears simply slid down his face. There were other kinds: kinds that stole one’s breath so that it pained one, kinds that were noisy and messy, kinds that came from anger or joy. It was truly fascinating.

Although… he hoped he didn’t do any of those. Mother would…

He’d rather not think about it.

The grass was pricklier than ever, but he stayed still for about ten minutes more before allowing himself to get up, having confirmed that there was no one in the clearing with him. Opening his eyes for the first time since the ritual was a strange experience, and for a moment he panicked at his blurry vision before realising it was because of the tears. Rubbing his eyes and surveying his surroundings once more revealed that his vision was still not as good as it used to be, but it was better than he had expected.

He was too warm, he noticed. The girl, Janet, had been warm, so he supposed it wasn’t surprising, even if it was uncomfortable. Remembering her made a knot form in his chest, whether from guilt or the residual magic he was not sure. Perhaps both.

Magic. His magic.

Panic washed over Tamlin anew when he realised he couldn’t feel it anymore. Of course he couldn’t. He had expected as much, knew it wouldn’t be there. But one of the few things in his entire world that kept him safe had just disappeared, and he was scared. So very very scared.

There was the water, no wait, tears again. He swiped at his eyes again, trying to get it to stop. What would he do? Just what exactly would he do?

Inhale. Exhale. Think.

Something soft and warm bloomed in his heart for a moment before fading almost immediately. It stopped Tamlin’s thoughts altogether. Unlike the rest of the warmth, which still caused him some discomfort, that little spot of light had offered solace while it lasted.

He slowed. Closed his eyes. Breathed for a few minutes.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

And there it was again. Soft and warm, but far more present this time. The breathing continued until he was sure it wouldn’t disappear again, after which he turned his attention to it and studied it with a smudge of fascination.

Fascination that turned into a painful bit of hope once he recognised what it was.

So Janet had had magic. Was she aware of it? Well, considering how faint it was, probably not. In all likelihood, actually, it had only just awakened. With Tamlin, instead of the little redhead, which made that knot of guilt tighten again, but it was contrasted by his shoulders loosening with relief. If the magic had awakened before this, Mother would never have considered Janet at all.

Tamlin studied this new frail magic, trying to understand what it could do. Human magic was so very different from fey magic (if his own magic had been a good indicator of fey magic, that is): less wild and shifty, and more… calm. At home. It remained to be seen whether the relaxed air to him now was caused by the magic’s simple presence or by it, well, casting magic on him.

The peace couldn’t last for long, though.

Leaves rustled off the side and Tamlin tensed before turning to face the elegant, sharp Fey before him. Mother had come for her visit.

“Finally awake, are we, dear?” she said, the intonation on ‘dear’ as mocking as it had always been, her teeth sharpening in her smile. “Well? How do you fare? Happy, I hope?”

Tamlin stood and, for the first time in all his seven years, smiled back at her.

The response surprised him as much as it surprised his mother, sparking a profound relief deep in his heart and a wider smile from the Queen. To think that the friendly little Janet had hid herself behind her cheer, hid herself so well, in fact, that she had fooled even the Queen of the Fey.

Smiling didn’t suit Tamlin (this one made his face hurt because of how… much it felt to him, someone used to the barest ghosts of expressions), but it could protect him, and he was so very glad.

So he continued smiling, even as he said, “Yes, Mother.” Even as it drained his energy, even as the wrongness settled around him like fog in early mornings, he smiled.

Tamlin could protect himself. For just a little longer.

Next Chapter.

[minthy]

The Star Sanses,

with the Map of the soul: 7 song that I think it fits with them, Because I miss 2019.

(forgot to post these doodles here, yay)

Persona: Swap.

"Actually I’m real good but a little uncomfortable,

I'm still not so sure if I'm a dog or a pig or what else,

But then other people come out and put the pearl necklace on me"

(Truth to be told, I have no idea what "swap sans" really is, He's just... well.. A swap, He doesn't even have a personality the silly, He just is there to fit for the plot of your AUs, heheh, Relatable)

Ego: Dream.

"I go back every day, To me of yesterday,

To the life of giving up, I let myself go away,

But in this world, you know, There are truths unchanged,

Time rushes ever forward, There's no ifs, buts, or maybes"

(I don't think he can get over what happened, his heart is big and his ego is bigger than to let him ask for guidance and support, man release us)

Shadow: Ink.

"I wondered everyday how far I'd go,

I came to my senses and I find myself here,

Yeah, hmm, shadow at my feet,

Look down, it's gotten even bigger"

(No matter how great high and mighty he's getting, the more the shadows of his past and constant need for stimulation are driving him to a point of despair and unsatisfaction, get a grip)

[petew21-blog]

Revenge possession, part 2

"So what is this game called again?" I asked out loud with Devon's voice.

Devon in the back of our mind:"Dead by daylight. You play either as a survivor or the killer. Depending on the role you have to escape or kill all the survivors."

I chuckled a bit:"You don't see how that's ironic?"

Devon was silent. "I'm so sorry, man. Jesus, I didn't think this through. Haha. Well... you should be good in this game right?"

Me:"Not really. I kinda didn't even know I was being hunted. Your parents just picked me up and then tortured me in the woods. I didn't have much of a chance to even run."

Devon:"Oh... I'm so sorry for that, man. My parents are horrible people."

Me:"Yeah. And I know they killed much more people than just me. That's why it needs to stop"

Devon:"So are you sure that killing them would be the best revenge for all these years of their murder spree?"

Me:"What else can I do? It's not like I had much of a choice. Few days ago I didn't even have a body. Now I co-share yours. Yeah, stealing their sons body is good revenge too, but you're a good person. And I don't want to take over your life."

Devon:"Not what I was aiming for. I honestly love having you here with me. You're like a second voice/brother/best friend inside of me. Oh shit. I just figured. I keep calling you bro. What's your real name?"

Me:"Paul. Took you long to ask, man. Not cool"

Devon:"Sorry, haha. So... Paul. You're like 40 now, right?"

Me:"I would be if your parents didn't kill me. But I died when I was 21 like you are now. So my mind basically stayed 21 I suppose. Except for roaming the country I didn't have much fun through all these years. These past few days as you, just chilling here, playing video games, jerking off and talking to you is the most fun I had over these 20 years."

Devon took control over his body to let go of the controler and to flex his biceps. The sweat hitting his nose.

Me:"What are you doing? I thought we were gonna play?"

Devon:"Nah, just reminding you what body you're in"

Devon:"Look at me man. I have beautiful abs, massive arms. These thighs could crush a melon between them. I appreciate that you picked me and that you like my body, but you gotta do something about this. We gotta go have fun. With another living being."

Me:"Devon... I really am happy how you treat me in your body, but... I don't think we have the same type of dating pool"

Devon:"I don't care whoever you fuck. I'm straight, or atleast I think I am, but very accepting. And if my man inside of me wants to fuck some handsome man, I will be more than happy to help you out. Bros gotta help each other"

Me:"But it's gonna be your body, man."

Devon:"So? You could do much worse with my body and you didn't. Getting fucked or fucking someone in the ass is not so bad."

Me:"Ok? So what place do you suggest?"

Devon:"Gym. We can show everyone what this body can do. Lot of people observe me there, so you can pick whoever you desire"

We arrived to the gym. So many hot and sexy people in sight. Devon took control to do his normal routine. It sucks that I could also have a body like this, but back in the day I wanted to see the world. I wanted to be myself in a world that hates my kind. Twenty years later, the world is so much more accepting. It's not ideal, but wow. How things gave changed

I still can't believe that Devon let's me stay in his body. I mean, look at him. He could be anything, have anyone. And yet this hot piece of meat is depressed with his easy life, being alone most of the time. I guess that's what happens when your serial killer parents move your family every now and then. You don't have any friends and those that you did might already be dead by their hand. How horrible... I honestly can't wait to see them. To look them in their face. With their son's face and to kill them. I hope Devon will forgive me. I know he says he wants to stop them, but it's his parents. I just have to make sure that he will not stop me when the time comes

Devon was just finishing up, when a cute twink approached us.

The guy:"Hey, I hope you don't mind that I was watching you"

Devon:"Nah, it's ok man. You need a hand with lifting?"

The guy smiled. "Oh I do need a hand, I just don't know If I asked the right person"

Devon sat down, looking all confused:"That depends if..."

I stopped Devon mid sentence. "I think that's a cue for me to take over, ok?"

Devon now in the back of my mind:"Sorry man, I usually don't respond to guys hitting on me. Go on. Have fun"

I smiled at the guy and casually finished the sentence

We headed to the showers. The owners must be probably sick with all these guys hooking up here. But we didn't care. We made out passionately. The twins was all over my muscles, as I would be in his place too. He was a bit smaller. That gave me a sense of dominating him.

I stopped and smiled at the guy. "I... just gotta let you know that I am a virgin"

Devon:"What!!! Dude, you never had sex with anyone?"

The guy looked at me from top to bottom. "You? If good looking people like you are virgins, then I have no idea how world works."

I chuckled nervously. It was true. I was 21 when I died, but back then it was much harder to date a find gay guy. Now you can just download Grindr and in a few minutes you got yourself a guy in your bedroom

Twink:"Well in that case we can go to your place and have some fun there. This isn't a very nice place to have your first time, don't you think"

I just smiled and nodded in approval

We were now in Devon's messy room. The guy was really shocked to see such a straight man cave, but didn't say a word. We made out. He took off my shirt soaked in sweat from gym. His lips now kissed my neck and went to over my pecs, down the middle to my waist band. He took my hard dick into his hand, squeezed hard and looked me deep into my eyes. His look was so full of lust, yet I could tell it was superficial. This guy isn't looking for romance. He just wants to be fucked hard. So let's give it to him

I took a bit of control of the moment. I grabbed him by the neck. Turned him around and pressed him against the wall. He was now moaning in pleasure as I was rubbing my hard dick hidden beneath the layers of my clothes against his ass. I was still holding him, choking him.

I pulled of my shorts and his just low enough to get my dick in there. I wanted to push it right in there. As hard as I could

Devon suddenly screamed out from the back of his mind:"Condom dude!!!"

I left the guy, moanjng against the wall, reaching out to the condom on the shelf. I was struggling to find which side to pick to put it on my dick

Twink:"Wait. Let me" it was obvious he jas done it a few times. The condor was on in a matters of seconds. "Do you have any lube?"

Devon intervened again:"Top drawer. Give him more attention, man. You're making it all about yourself"

"Shut up" I said out loud as a response to Devon, but the guy looked confused. "Oh sorry, not you. I'm just nervous. I have lube right here."

The guy went on Devon's bed on his back. His clothes were now gone and his ass was welcoming my dick. His legs wide open.

I pressed lightly my dick with a ridiculous ammount of lube on top.

It went smoothly so I tried to went all the way. This seemed to hurt the twins. "Hold your horses. I'm good, but not that good. A bit slower, cowboy."

I went in slowly. The pleasure got to Devon too. The way this guys ass was tight around the head of our dick was sending our minds to heaven.

I picked up the pace. The twink was moaning in pleasure and in pain at the same time. I grabbed him by the next to choke him. My other arm pressing his thigh.

Twink:"Harder!" I thought I was going as hard as possible, but I didn't think he could take it much more

Twink:"Harder!!!"

Devon:"Oh, jesus. Let me do it" Devon took over. I was in the back of our mind again. Still feeling everything.

Devon was like a beast, but the twink was really enjoying it.

I could feel all the cum building up. Ooh there's gonna be tons of cum.

Devon was biting his lower líp and furiously pounding this guy's ass. Sure, "Straight" my ass.

Devon:"I'm cumming!!!"

Twink:"Fill me! I want it all"

Devon shot out the stream of cum into the condom. The wave of pleasure was so overwhelming. So much, that I lost control for a moment. I didn't know what was happening.

I opened my eyes. Still as Devon. Good. But I was back in control. But I was alone here. I couldn't feel Devon

"DEVON?!?"

Twink:"Right here. You pushed my soul out of my body, dude. If the guy here wasn't as welcoming you would have me erased or something"

Me:"I'm so sorry. I didn't think that would happen."

Devon:"It's fine. This guy's soul is asleep or maybe gone? I don't know. But I can't hear him now. Dude! I could feel my body's orgasm and his orgasm at the same time. I can assure you, that this is definitely the best I'll ever feel. So overwhelming."

Me:"Shit, dude. We gotta figure out how to get you put of there. Or you might be stuck"

Devon:"What if we wait for a bit? I kinda wanna try having sex with my body."

Me:"Kinky. You wanna get pounded too?"

Devon:"Guess I'm not so straight anymore, right?"

After our first fucking session, Devon passed out from all the sex. We still didn't know where this guy's soul was, but we would figure that out soon. I was just happy that I was finally alive. And I even have a boyfriend now? If that's what I can call Devon. Not to put labels on our relationship or anything

I grabbed the first pair of shorts from the floor I could find. Still sweaty from the sex, I headed to the kitchen to get myself a drink of water.

I was interrupted by a dark figure in the corner of the room

"Hello, son"

I was full of rage. But I can't fuck it up now. If I kill him, I won't know where his mom is and that would take me another decade to find her.

"Hey, dad. How was your holiday"

"Oh wonderful. Rome is your mother's favourite place to visit"

I tried to act as much as possible. Devon was in his room in a wrong body, so that wouldn't help me.

"Did you go to Colosseum this time?"

"Oh, we sure did." The father responded. But in the matter of seconds his expression changed. He was now holding a gun pointed at me

"What are you doing, dad?!"

"Devon knows we went to Bahamas"

Fuck. So he knew all along that I'm not Devon. But how?

"Me and my wife found out that the folk like you, who want to have your revenge for what we did, come back as ghosts to make our lives a living hell."

"So I'm not the first one?"

"Hahaha. Of course you're not. The first one came when Devon was 2 years old. Of course he doesn't remember, but that was a nasty one. All the paranormal stuff. We didn't know what we were dealing with back then. But now, oh we are used to deal with you. But possessing Devon is a first. Some possessed us and tried to kill us, but obviously failed."

"How can you tell that I'm not him? Besides the question."

"Oh it's an aura thing. Once you have the experience and a good guidance, you can just tell when a soul isn't in their rightful place."

"Now, tell me. Did Devon put up a lot of fight? Your answer will change the course of your torture."

"Devon is ok. He's in the body of the guy downstairs. It was an accident"

"Sure it was. That would make sure that we couldn't kill you or him, right? We're not so stupid, mister. Although I will not enjoy killing my son, there is no other choice."

"If you kill me, I will go after you even more. I have for the past 20 years and I will even after you die. My soul will not rest until you burn in hell"

"Sure you can do that, but it will take you some time to get out of this thing."

He was holding a wooden object with symbols

"What is that thing?"

"That mister, is your prison. It will bind you inside, until it breaks, or someone opens it on purpose. Which happens rarely if you ask me."

"You're doing a big mistake. Devon is in his room in a different body. Let him atleast get his body back."

"I can't take that chance. Me and my wife have a life to live up to and we won't stop just because our son got himself in some trouble and can't handle it."

"It's your son! You would kill him just so you can continue your killing spree?"

"Oh, definitely. Having a child is a great thing, but taking a life. That's something you won't ever forget about. The control it gives you."

"You're sick. No parent would ever do this to their child"

From the hallway a second voice spoke:"Oh these two are a chatty couple, right honey? So chatty chatty. But we need to hurry up, so get on with this" the mother said towards her husband

I could feel a horrible pain in my chest. Feelings very similar to the ones I felt 20 years ago. This couple was killing me again

"Sorry Devon. We couldn't have done anything" father said

"Devon hates you too!" I screamed out

"You're talking too much" and then nothing.

I don't know for how long this continued. I don't even know what they did with Devon's beautiful body. How they got rid of it.

Soon I started to feel walls around me. Walls? As a ghost I wouldn't be able to. Except if this is their prison that they were talking about.

I opened my eyes. There was only darkness. Nothing else. I looked around and on the other side of my prison was someone sitting, crying.

I got up to approach this person. He looked up

It was Devon. He was crying

"Paul! They killed me. My own mother slit my throat. I told her it's me. But she just killed me and trapped me into thus thing."

"I'm so so sorry, Devon. I never wanted any of this. I wanted revenge for them. But they were ready. They knew. Your father didn't listen to me too. He didn't care. I told him about your soul. But they are more sadistic then I thought"

"Paul, I'm dead. My parents killed me. My OWN PARENTS!"

"Devon, they are horrible people. And we will get our lives back. Maybe not our old lives, but we will. But first we have to get out of here. We're gonna get through this together. Ok?"

Devon collapsed into my arms. I was just glad that I could hold someone even if I was a ghost now. We were gonna get out of here, but I had no idea how

Outside of the ghost trap, the world went by.

Devon's father held the trap tightly as he watched his old house burn. His wife held her head on his shoulder.

"Ahhh, I think I might miss Devon. He gave our life some order"

"He limited us. We couldn't ve ourselves all the time. Now we can. What do you say we go pick up some hitchhiker?"

"Ohhhh, that's a lovely idea. Get rid of that box, it gives me the creeps"

And as the two of them were laughing while leaving, the box was sinking deeply into the river below the bridge until some human would find it.

If Paul and Devon would know what was happening to then right now, they would be devastated.

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

I'm sorry but the irony of Nico calling Max unprofessional is sending me so bad like sir there's an entire garage full of people, who were literally in the trenches trying to survive the Brocedes fallout while just doing their jobs, who might have a few things to say about your (& Lewis') level of professionalism at that time 😭✋️

[bongcipher]

triangular possesion

[weirdo-from-bonesborough]

Billy’s allowed to sit on the throne in the rock of eternity there’s just also another perfectly rectangular rock over his head to remind him that if he ever gets to full of himself and tries to take more then he was given, well… there’s a reason they call him the world’s mightiest mortal

[mallowboo]

outfit swap!

[wigglesdtuff]

Ghost Princess...???

[peachphernalia]

diagram of the Terrible Critters . because i recently had to explain how the hell the hv swap worked & it was harder than it had to be

[gojosbf]

one thing gege is really good at is portraying expressions and mannerisms, since half of the story revolves around characters getting possessed it takes mastering minor distinctions and body language to be make each such takeover convincing. this is one of the areas where he really deserves his flowers.

[mintypsii]

sketchbook doodle reqs from twt (part 1)

[sylvana-the-tsarina]

To Find One's Soulmate

“Souls.”

The single word shattered the silence in the study, bringing both relief to a question that incited countless late nights, and horror as the understanding dawned on her, explaining everything about Janet’s life in the last ten years.

She got up and drifted over to the mirror, studying herself anew. Over those years, her hair had lightened to look more red than brown, her freckles had nearly disappeared, her features had sharpened somewhat, and magic fluttered around the edges of her form, giving her an otherworldly aura. Still looked human, yes, but at this point her bearing served to confirm the rumours surrounding her — Janet O’Neill, the mysterious, graceful, Fey-gifted mage.

“So this,” she whispered to herself in the mirror, eyeing her slightly pointed ears with her now-standard lack of expression, “is what a human with a Fey’s soul looks like.”

It explained so much.

This was why she felt something was wrong about her; why she felt like she was missing something and had too much simultaneously. She, her soul, was the friendly warm kind, one that would want to smile and laugh and cry often. His, on the other hand, was a quiet one, and a scared one, so that she often felt her face was too stiff, but to him this would have been normal. Ideal, even.

And now she also understood why his soul was afraid to show emotion. It had taken her too long to realise it, but he was a kind one among the Fey, so it was no wonder he would want to keep himself safe from them in this way. Her heart ached to think of the experiences this soul must have had growing up to be so so afraid of opening up to anyone.

Ten years, and Janet had told no one of her fears or discomfort. It felt too frightening a prospect, and now she knew why.

Why her personality had an abrupt change even though her memories were untouched, what exactly had happened in that ritual, why she suddenly gained magic that felt uncomfortable to use, why her dreams sometimes showed experiences and thoughts she’d never had before… all of that was explained.

The one thing that wasn’t explained was why the Fey Queen had done this in the first place.

Why sacrifice her son’s soul for a human’s? Even if Janet’s encounter with them the first time had left a favourable imprint, this went beyond what she deserved. Nothing Janet did could have justified gaining a Fey’s soul, so it must have been for Tamlin.

A punishment, then. A human’s soul could not have been a reward; the Queen certainly should have known that the lack of magic and displaced soul would cause incredible discomfort.

What had he done? What could he have done, at seven years of age? Was it something in his control? Was he aware he was being punished? How binding was that ritual?

The frustration was enough to incite sedate pacing, taking Janet from one side of the room to the other, as thoughts like these plagued her. Eventually, her mind and her feet slowed as she came to a conclusion.

She would need to find him. There was no other way to get out of this.

But how was she to do such a thing? The fey didn’t live in the forest bordering her bucolic hamlet; those woods functioned as sort of a gateway to their realm lying beyond. Janet had only met them all those years ago because the Fey Queen had, for reasons best known to herself, decided to come out and take a stroll. Attempting to enter their home (if it could be called that) would be a perfectly idiotic idea, even carrying the fae soul she kept safe with her. Not to mention that Janet could not predict whether Tamlin would be there, and if he was, then what state she should find him in.

Janet let out a brief controlled sigh, and then made her way to their library, intent on reading every journal and storybook their collection had on the Fey.

Giving up now was not an option.

-------

The light creaking caused by the wayward root shifting so as not to trip him was quite possibly the most beautiful sound Tamlin had ever heard.

He smiled at the tree, the motion slightly less draining than it usually was, then let his hand lightly graze the trunk of it in thanks. The magic sparked, allowing him to feel the sweet warmth that passed between the two of them. It was indeed a sweet warmth: one that comforted him despite his constant pyretic temperature; one that brought a sense of gladness to his heart.

Two months of this, and he still basked in it. Still couldn’t imagine getting tired of it. It was as precious and wonderful to him as the first time he felt that connection several months ago: an event he had no trouble recalling as though it had happened just the day before.

Rain had fallen that day, he remembered, leaving the forest damp and alive, the air filled with petrichor. The rain was the reason Tamlin had been out in the forest at all — a handy excuse for giving himself peace and solitude. Perhaps it was cold while it fell and left cold in its aftermath, but it soothed him to wander in the faint mists as he had been doing then.

And it was during this wandering that he found the child.

It was a small thing, about the same size he had been at the time of the ritual; a little boy with bright green eyes and bright gold hair and an expression of bright curiosity to match.

His presence in the forest was concerning to Tamlin. Fey adored bright little children, and had he ventured just a bit further, he would have found himself swept into the Heart and serving as a plaything, subject to every one of their whims… until they eventually bored of him and sent him back.

So Tamlin lightly dropped from a tree in front of the child, smiling softly to calm the startlement indicated by the thing’s gasp and wide eyes. Gently, he kneeled down and reached out a hand to brush away the child’s hair, letting the magic’s influence comfort him as it did Tamlin himself.

“Greetings, little one. Would you happen to be lost?”

“Ah- I- hello!” Even his voice was bright, enthusiastic and warm. “No, I’m not lost. Or, I wasn’t lost. I really wasn’t, promise. But then I- I tripped a bit and turned around and- and the tree wasn’t there anymore.”

Ah. Tamlin lightly tilted his head, still smiling softly. Either the child had been clumsy and truly lost his way, or the Fey were out again already. There were equal chances for either possibility, but just in case it was the latter…

“Let’s go find the tree again, shall we?”

A quick nod and the child easily placed his little hand into the pale one Tamlin had extended. Gently they walked together for a time, those bright eyes watching the fey in silence before their owner eventually spoke up again.

“What are you?”

“One of many inhabitants belonging to the forest.”

“That doesn’t answer anything; there’s so many of them! Which one are you?”

Tamlin’s soft smile took on a faintly amused shade. “Why not take a guess?”

“Hm-mm.” The boy’s cheeks puffed out, his eyebrows furrowing. “Well, you can’t be a fey. I thought you were, at first, but-”

“But?”

“-but you’re too nice. You don’t feel like a fey.”

That elicited a little laugh. Ah, what a comment. It brought him such mixed feelings, feelings that washed over him the same way the rain had earlier that day: harsh and refreshing all at once. Undoubtedly there was some pain in knowing he would not be recognised as what he truly was (that is, if he counted as one anymore), but there was also no doubt that a part of him, perhaps the spiteful part of him, was pleased knowing he would not be counted among their number.

There was a reply on the tip of his tongue that never came, for it was just then that the presence of an aforementioned them pricked his magical senses.

“We must go, little one. I hope you will pardon my impertinence.”

And so the child was gathered into his arms and lifted up, his bright gold hair bouncing around his face as Tamlin nipped through the forest, swift and light. They came to a stop only when Tamlin’s not-so-pointed ears and borrowed magic could no longer discern any unwanted companions. Still, he held onto the boy, his gaze travelling over their surroundings, just to be sure.

“What happened?” The child sounded a little breathless, his face flushed with excitement. Looking at him, the snowy fey suddenly felt the urge to hold him a little closer, and perhaps nuzzle into his soft hair. The influence of Janet’s soul, no doubt. If there was anything he knew about her from all these years, it was that she had been a warm person.

He leaned his head forward until his forehead rested on the child’s, marvelling at the sense of comfort that gave him. By the way the boy’s eyes fluttered shut, it was obvious he felt the same, his hands loosening their grip on Tamlin’s shirt.

“Nothing you must worry about, little one. Only remember that the forest is full of inhabitants, and not all of them friendly.”

The child made a little noise in response, which he decided to take as an affirmative. He lifted his head again to survey their surroundings once more, the magic catching on a particular tree. A trace of fey magic and a trace of the child. Luck, it seemed, had brought his wild sprint to exactly the place he needed to be.

“Is this your tree, little one?”

The boy looked as well, his bright green eyes lighting up even further in recognition. “Yes! That’s the tree, and-” He twisted a little in Tamlin’s hold, craning his neck to look further. “-and there’s the path with the mushrooms!”

“Then this is where we part.”

Tamlin was not expecting the way the boy’s eyes would snap back to him, the light of them doused by his disappointment. “You’re not- you’re not coming with me?”

That disappointment also showed in the way he reluctantly let go of the fey as Tamlin knelt down and released him, suddenly feeling equally as reluctant. That expression— it was almost enough to make his heart ache.

“It is not my place.”

“Then… will I see you again?”

He tilted his head slightly, smiling gently. “For your own safety, little one, I should hope not. You do not belong there, and I do not belong here.”

“So this is… goodbye?”

“It is.”

Oh dear. Oh no. The child looked on the verge of tears. That wasn’t good. If he started crying now, then Tamlin surely would too, and that was not a safe thing to do in the forest.

“Hey.” It was a human word, a human way of saying it, but Tamlin let it slip from his mouth naturally as he laid a hand on the boy’s cheek. “There is no need for sorrow. You will be home soon.”

“I-I know, but-” He blinked hard, bringing a hand up to dash at his eyes. His little bright voice was now husky and quiet with the effort to keep from crying. “I don’t want to say goodbye to a friend.”

A friend.

There was silence for a moment as Tamlin too struggled to keep from crying. It was quite difficult, even as used to fighting tears as he was. He exhaled, closed his eyes, and once more rested his forehead against the child’s, trusting the magic to calm them both. It did seem to work, as the boy’s breathing slowed to a comfortable rate before he spoke up again.

“If- if we’re going to say goodbye, you should at least know my name. Maybe one day you can use it to come find me, and-”

The child’s eager words were stopped by Tamlin’s fingers delicately alighting on his mouth. He kept his expression as gentle as he could, disliking how he had to keep disappointing this little thing.

“Ah-ah-ah. One’s name is one’s treasure, little one. Share it with no one of the forest, for none in the forest deserve that trust.”

“Not even you?”

“Not even me.”

How he would miss those bright eyes, even knowing them for so short a spell. A sigh escaped him as he dropped his hands from the boy’s face and gracefully rose from his kneeling position, those eyes watching him carefully as he did.

“I’ve figured it out.”

“Oh? What have you figured out, little one?”

“What you are. You’re too nice to be a fey, and you’re too real to be a ghost. So you must be a guardian spirit. I’m right, aren’t I?”

A slow, genuine smile spread across Tamlin’s face. There was such a look of conviction on the child, as if he was sure without a doubt that he had got it right.

Guardian spirit. Guardian spirit, hm?

“Yes. You’re right. Well done.”

Lies, though they were no longer impossible for him, were nevertheless extremely uncomfortable. This one, however… this one did not hurt, did not prickle. Hm… a matter to ponder another time.

The boy beamed up at him, though it was short-lived at the reminder of their imminent parting. A brief pause, and then he hastily rummaged through his pockets and pulled something out, then took one of Tamlin’s hands and pressed the item into it.

“Then this is my thank you gift. For guarding me.”

It was on his mind to refuse it (on account of him not having done anything worth such a gesture), but one look at the child’s expectant expression was quite enough to discard that thought.

Instead, he lifted his closed hand up to his heart and held the boy’s gaze. “I shall treasure it.”

The boy nodded, then went over to the path that would take him home, and away from Tamlin. He paused there, hesitating, then suddenly rushed back to Tamlin and threw his arms around him in a tight hug. It stunned Tamlin, but he did manage to hug the child back.

“Goodbye, guardian spirit.”

“Goodbye, little friend.”

And this time when he went to the path, he smiled his bright smile back at Tamlin, giving him one final, enthusiastic wave before disappearing around the bend.

The guardian spirit slowly exhaled, his shoulders relaxing.

Well. He hadn’t expected to have his heart stolen and then broken that day, that was for sure.

There was a warmth in his hand, but that couldn’t have his attention just then. His eyes closed on a silent inhale, then he turned to face the other side of the clearing, a charming, friendly smile etched on his face.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She glided forward then, one of them, though which one she was he didn’t quite care to know. It had only been a short while since she appeared, though it certainly wasn’t short enough for her to not have noticed the bright little boy. Her eyes sharpened on him, as did her returning smile.

“Ah, snow-born. As genial as ever. It is a true pity that your geniality does not extend to the idea of sharing. Must you be so selfish?”

“Apologies, iridescence. I was simply considering the laws.”

“The laws are carvings on rotting bark. Following them does nothing; invoking them does nothing.”

“If one had no mind, perhaps.”

It was a mistake to say that, a mistake to let his smile go a bit lopsided, as made evident by her ever-sharper smile and lifting chin. She took a step towards him, her voice going dangerously soft.

“Perhaps indeed. Perhaps one ought to be careful, then, of letting words slip without thought.”

He closed his eyes, still smiling, resigning himself to the punishment he would no doubt receive. Soon his attention was caught again, however, his eyes snapping open, both of the fey in the clearing stunned.

Stunned because the woods had moved, the undergrowth shifting in response to the menacing magic dripping from her fingers, an invisible barrier forming between the two.

Protecting Tamlin.

It was with a scowl that she swept away, her pride refusing to allow her to acknowledge that barrier. It was with a smile that Tamlin watched her go, his mind reeling from the experience.

And once he was safe, the woods settled again.

There was a warmth in his hand.

Tamlin uncurled his fingers and gazed at the little, misshapen acorn resting cheerfully on his palm, the faintest afterglow of bright magic around it.

It was easily the most beautiful thing the snowy fey had ever seen.

It was still just as beautiful when he took it out again to gaze at it, months later. Often he pondered its impact on his life, often and deeply, and it did not take him too long at all to figure out the secret behind its magic.

Laughably, the little boy himself had given Tamlin the answer himself when he’d called the snowy fey a guardian spirit.

For that was what Tamlin found himself to be now. It wasn’t true until this acorn came into his possession (not completely true, anyway), but now his slowly strengthening connection to the forest couldn’t be denied. A connection that had always been there, actually, though he’d never noticed it before.

Always been there, for, as it turned out, the forest was Janet’s.

Her magic, her soul… it was this that began the connection. Then the little boy’s gift, his offering, had simply added to it. Added to the magic, expanded it, curled it around so much more than the guardian spirit’s being, so that he could feel and reach out just a bit further.

Funny how all of Tamlin’s magic came from humans; bright, warm, loving humans. They were the polar opposite of his life in the Heart, whose name felt a mockery every time he thought or uttered it. Heart? How ridiculous. Those fey had no such thing, their desires and games a pale imitation of the home these humans created with their laughs.

Perhaps Tamlin was never meant to be a fey, after all. Perhaps, had his life been of a wholly different kind, he’d have been part of that home, that family, those humans. Perhaps, even now, he’d have liked to befriend them.

Pity, then, that it was not an option he would allow himself to take. A true pity indeed, that instead of seeking them out, he would have to drive them all away.

A sigh escaped his lips as he tucked the acorn away and carefully adjusted his expression to the friendly menace that was unique to the fey. The magic swirled around him, assisting him in forming the aura he required.

Time to act, then.

-------

The burgh was wild with whispers and buzz when Janet finally exited the library that day, taking her quite by surprise. Though gossip and chatter were hardly a novel event, the level of excitement she faced indicated that something had happened.

Sifting through the hubbub and trying to figure out what had happened, though, was no easy endeavour. It took her a while of walking around and piecing together what she heard, but eventually she was able to figure out the outline of the event.

Apparently, a mysterious fey in the woods had appeared before Hunter Raibeart and declared that the woods now belonged to him; any human that wished to enter must bring an iron ring to leave behind as an offering to him, else have their heart carved out by the fey himself.

An interesting turn of events.

She was pondering this when her thoughts were interrupted by Lileas’ voice, who had come to her in hopes of discussing this with the mage.

“Oh, it’s so frightening to think of, Janet! That some Fey in the woods would carve out our hearts… and in our own woods at that!”

Unlike many other girls in the burgh, who now giggled and joked to each other about a handsome fey within reach, Lileas was sensible and level-headed, with a propensity to disapprovingly break up any nonsense. This trait of hers had Janet take to her kindly, and the two of them were rather good friends, even in the face of Janet’s cold demeanour.

“Only if you defy his terms,” Janet reminded her. Then, “Was he not described as having a friendly smile? He may have been jesting then, perhaps.”

“Perhaps, Janet, perhaps — but I wouldn’t take my chances. From what I’ve heard, he sounds highly untrustworthy.”

“Oh? Why, what have you heard?”

“You see, he’s said to be incredibly pale; Raibeart said he looked like he was made of snow. That sounds perfectly unnatural to me — what is he, a fey or a ghost? And his smile was friendly, maybe, but he gave his terms while languidly studying a hunter’s knife!” She shuddered a bit. “Oh, Janet, just envision it! A boy like a ghost leaning against a tree and studying a blade while threatening you with a smile… it gives me chills to think o- Dear me, Janet! Are you quite alright? You’ve gone all pale!”

Janet had utterly stilled as everything Lileas said clicked into place in her mind. A fae with a snowy white appearance and a friendly smile… it couldn’t be…

“Lily?” she whispered, her voice almost hoarse in the sudden grip of fierce hope that blazed somewhere in her heart.

“What’s wrong?” Lileas asked, hovering over her friend in concern. “Do you need-”

“That fey. Did he ever give a name?”

“Well, yes, but you know how the Fey are about names. It’s probably just a false-”

“What was it?” Janet asked, her desperation enough for her eyes to turn pleading. “What name did he give?”

Now Lileas really looked concerned, but she didn’t push it, instead answering with a simple, “Lin. He called himself Lin.”

It took every ounce of willpower she had just then to not wobble or faint from the sheer astonishment of that revelation.

He’s here. He’s- He’s right- right here.

The boy-Fey, the person she knew most in the world, not because they were bosom friends, but because she had been taking care of his kind, gentle, tired soul for the past decade. The one who was, undoubtedly, facing the same loss and struggle she was: feeling off in her own body, watching herself fade, wondering how much of her thoughts were real and her own; and yet never, never, blaming the other for the position they were in.

She needed to see him. As soon as she possibly could.

“I just realised something,” she said, her cloak billowing behind her as she whirled around and began gliding in the direction of her study, all shock replaced by determination. “Tell Father an urgent matter has come up and I am not to be disturbed.”

Her friend knew her well enough not to press the issue, instead nodding after her disappearing figure and turning to make her way to relay the message.

None dared question the fey-gifted mage, after all.

(Especially when she showed more emotion than a block of ice).

-------

The forest didn’t like her.

Or perhaps it was conflicted? She wasn’t particularly sure, she decided, staring at the knotted roots with her arms folded. Well, whichever was the case, she had already made up her mind to come in, so it would just have to let her.

It seemed to pick up on her thoughts, the roots giving way with something like a sigh. Janet could have sworn the trees were eyeing her suspiciously still, but she nodded her thanks and glided forward. The air was cool and crisp, the floor littered with leaves that crunched beneath her feet.

Ah, this brought back memories. Many a time she had frolicked through these parts when she was much younger… until that fateful meeting. Perhaps she would not have been so terrified then if the boy-fey had been there, like he had been in the hall later… perhaps his calm presence would have made the idea of coming here again bearable… like the thought of his presence here was doing now.

Tamlin, or Lin, as he called himself now. What was he like now? What was he doing? Where was he?

He was in a tree (as he was wont to be) while Janet was thinking these thoughts, reminiscing on his encounter with that huntsman. Regret and relief passed through him by turns, though he wasn’t allowed to stew in it, interrupted as he was by the forest informing him of a fey creature in the woods.

Tamlin sighed in aggravation and dropped down from his branch, unamused at the prospect of having to deal with them yet again. Mother and the rest hadn’t been pleased upon finding he had some power of his own, and though they mostly left him be, some enjoyed visiting to heckle him and watch his responses.

Today he would not humour them. He was already feeling low, and his patience would not last this noon.

And so it was an aura of warning that met Janet soon after, one that caused her to ready her own magic in response as she turned to warily face the source of it. She had prepared herself for danger, and she knew she could very well handle it.

“I am afraid my reception to guests is closed this fine day, irides-”

Two breaths caught simultaneously as their eyes met and lit with recognition. The guardian spirit’s polite expression dropped in favour of utter shock, and the mage gave no hint of her own startlement beyond stilling completely. They stared at each other in silence for a prolonged moment, each hardly willing to believe this was real.

Then, slowly, hesitantly, she gave him a soft smile. “I am… so glad to see you again, Tamlin.”

It nearly broke him to hear that, his breath catching again as he squeezed his eyes shut to prevent himself from crying. It was so… so familiar and so wrong to see that smile on her, to hear that tone of voice. How pale she had become! How cold and sharp-featured… how so unlike herself and so like him.

He took in a shaky breath and then stepped forward, giving her a warm, welcoming smile in return. “And I am… overjoyed, as well, Janet.”

And the sight of her smile on the now-warm boy-Fey was enough to bring her to tears in return, the water silently sliding down her face for the first time in ten long years.

[monsterboyblood]

Some very rough concepts for soul core Bass and Proto, with some extra things under the cut like how Bass' buster works and some helmetless ideas for the two of them.

[petew21-blog]

Uncharted territory

Danny made sure that he had everything. His costume of Nathan Drake from Uncharted was amazing for this year's Comic Con. He was inspired after he saw his bully dressed as him for Halloween. He needed to be better, but unfortunately he didn't have the muscles to show off. So he went for the shirt.

The bully looked so good. Danny even saved the photo from his instagram and jerked off to it, imagining that he would go to Comic Con as him. He would definitely get a LOT of attention.

He was about to head out to wait for his friend Martin to pick him up. But before leaving he decided to fully use his costume and play one last quick game of Uncharted before leaving.

Danny turned on the play station, excited to start his immersive experience.

The game launched and Danny clicked continue. But something was different. His controller was vibrating and overheating. Something was wrong. Danny felt a force pulling him into the game. He wanted to let go of the controller, but it was too late.

He opened his eyes. Gone was his nerdy room with comic books and a computer set. He looked around to see the jungle surrounding him. He looked down. His Nathan Drake outfit now fit way better then before. But his hands were entirely different. They were strong, veiny and hairy, not like his teen body. His shirt was strechted over his bulking pecs and the buttons of his shirt did a really bad job of covering his hairy torso.

"Oh no" he said out loud noticing the sudden voice change. He put his hand up to his throat to feel the protruding adam's apple. His hand continued and felt the stubble on his face.

"No fucking way" he tried to search for something that would show him his reflection, but the only thing he found was his knife. He pulled it out to take a look at his new face.

"Holy shit. I'm Nathan Drake! No way!" his manly voice was so erotic.

He turned around and grinned.

"I am Nathan Drake. And I am in my own game of Uncharted, with fictional characters and no one who could judge me." his grin was now even more apparent. He immediately ripped off his clothing he had on.

His body was sweaty from the humidity of the jungle, but also from the thrill Danny was now experiencing. He took a whiff of his new armpits. "Ooooh. That smells so... manly!" his hands traced the hairy line of his chest over to his abs. "These are amazing"

He came back to try out his nipples. They were really sensitive. He played with them for a while.

And the jawline! Danny would kill to look like this forever.

Everything was different. No more skinny arms, no more hairless body, no more struggles to grow a beard. No more...

He froze in place. There was one thing he definitely needed to check out

His hand made its way aggresively into his pants. There it was. A beautiful thick meat. Danny felt the weight of it. It was perfect. He never even hoped to be such a stud.

He was ready to enjoy his body fully, but something happened. He started moving through the jungle. His shirt appeared back on his body. His body was moving as if something else was controlling it. There was a background music, which was more and more intense every second. The mission started. He had to fight for his life. But Danny felt as if he had no control of it. And the thing that controlled him did so many stupid mistakes. And then it happened. He died. Danny felt the pain in his body. Overwhelming and liberating at the same time. He closed his eyes.

Danny was forced to open them again. The mission restarted. "What the hell?" someone was playing the game. And Danny was now trapped as Nathan in the game.

The first death was one of MANY. Danny stopped counting after he reached number 28. He just prayed for it to end soon.

Meanwhile, in front of his Playstation sat his body, playing the Uncharted, grinning.

"I'll teach you how to play the game. I'll show you what it's like to die over and over again!"

Nathan was making sure to let Danny Die in his body as many times as possible.

His phone was vibrating.

"Hey. Yeah I'm ready. I'll just close the game and will meet you downstairs." Nathan tried the best impression of Danny to not raise any suspiciouns.

Nathan grinned mischievously.

He ran to the car.

Martin:"What took you so long?"

Nathan:"I had to fix settings in my game. It was too easy."

Martin:"Ok. You ready for comic con?"

Nathan:"Yes, sir"

Danny's struggles unfortunately did not end, because Nathan made sure to leave the game on and not only that. Nathan somehow messed with the settings and the story. Nathan's enemy - Atoq Navarro was now present after every death Danny went through.

What was horrible wasn't his presence, but the fact that he was 3 times bigger and his only goal was to fill Nathan's body with his cum. EVERYTHING was 3 times bigger and Atoq needed Nathan filled up.

Danny:"I hope they come back from Comic Con soon. I'm not sure how many fillings I can take." but Danny knew that he was now a character in the game. There were no limits for his pleasant suffering.

Anonymous request from Inbox

What about a swap between a cosplayer and the character in game? Like someone cosplaying as Nathan drake from Uncharted getting swapped with the ingame character while the ingame character gets put in the real world to play the video game?

[cangrellesteponme]

i don't think wonderland is ready for those alices

[citroncynique]

bad dreams in the night