#them receiving the counterparts makes me feral

[tojisun]

i just know logan’s praise kink (giving it out) and wade’s humiliation kink (also giving it out) shifts so deliciously when the three of you finally get together (logan’s the naughty pup who can’t keep his hands to himself while wade’s your sweet boy because he’s always so desperate to be good) kachoww

[nymphoheretic]

˜”*°•.˜”*°• Plaything •°*”˜.•°*”˜

Synopsis: You've been caught in his trap. And now you're his little plaything. The Upper Moon 4, Hantengu, more so you belong to the 4 clones.

Warnings : smut, gangbang with Hantengu clones, oral(male and female receiving), anal, Double Penetration , degradation, biting, marking, Electroplay, Spit as lube Rough sex , cervix fucking, Monsterfucking , wing play, praise, Blood Kink, creampie, finger sucking, squirting (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word count : 4.6k

Pairing : Hantengu (all four clones) x fem!slayer!reader

A/N: I have no words for this. It's basically straight porn and I know tumblr is gonna slap a label on it. So, check it out on my AO3(same name). I'll link it in my bio/pinned post.

Special thanks to @bleuboyfriend for beta reading it for me! You're amazing Luke!!

Tags: @bakugosbratx (cause I'd get yelled at if I didn't) @herohibiscus (karaku brainrot partner in crime) @linpunny (monsterfucker bestie) @fushisslut (have your lawyer call mine) @sirenspider @unknownspecies @sailewhoremoon @potofstewie @medusashima @sweetblueworm @gh0stfac3-w1f3y @zoroarkstar @potatoboiasta @rav3enmuse @gingerspicelattemix @redsharksimp @shadowvessel172 @hiitogata @iamthepaninpanic @yandere-wishes @tommyinnit-kinnie @maddyybtw @rani-02 @hulahoopingpro @justsomereaderwholikesanime @dedukiddu @shockinglysubmissive @cherryblossomsenpai @cherry1hearts @violxtbxbyy @jeschalynn @jazzthatonewriterchick @comatosebunny09 @ilovetwodmen @cockadodalcuck @nightimewalk-chan @enchantedforest-network

You're not sure how it even happened. You were summoned to slay a demon that had been spotted in a village; only to find a cowardly little imp like Demon that was scared of its own shadow. Cutting its head off wasn't too difficult, but the result was devastating for you. The demon split into four clones of itself. Each one with a different demon blood art. 

They cornered you and the green one, Karaku found you to be so very interesting. His clawed hand reached out and caressed your cheek before tipping your chin back. His tongue – marked with the Kanji "pleasure" – slipped past his lips and touched your lips, tasting them. A deep purr like growl rumbled in his chest as he speaks to his counterparts.

"It's been so long since we've been separated and had a little plaything. We deserve to have some fun, right, Sekido?"

His green Kanji branded eyes flickering down to your torn top – the swell of your breasts inviting him as his mouth watered when he could hear your heart pounding beneath your ribcage. Your eyes dart from him to his three other counterparts. His fingers tilt your gaze back to his as he tilts his head down towards yours. “Ne, Sekido, can we have some fun with this pretty little slayer? Please?”

Sekido grits his fangs, his red Kanji branded eyes narrowing as he taps his staff on the ground, bolts of lightning sparking from underneath. His gaze cuts to your eyes and he can smell the fear that emits from you – saturating the air around them in its scent. He growls out, voice guttural and deep. “Only if Aizetsu and Urogi agree.”

Karaku grabs you in his claws and sits you down in his lap, easily pinning you against his chest  as he spreads your legs. One hand cupped your breasts, pinching your nipples as the other dug its palm into your core, eliciting a moan from you. The sound was like heaven to his ears. Karaku’s tongue touches the shell of your ear before his fangs nip at it playfully. “Aizestu, Urogi, c’mon say yes. I wanna play with our new toy.”

“Get your hands off of m–” Your words die off in a moan when he rubbed two sharp clawed fingers over the damp spot forming over your panties.

“Hmmm, little plaything. You were saying?” He ground his fingers harder against the clothed little pearl of nerves, making you squeal out. “Just look at my counterparts. Hard just from watching us. You all should join. If not, I’m still going to have fun.”

Urogi’s control finally snapped as a feral grin spreads over his lips when your musky scent permeates his senses. His own tongue – marked with the Kanji “Joy" – flicks out of his mouth as he drops to his knees in front of you. “Fuck, she’s sexy. And we get to have fun with her. Don’t mind if I do.” When Karaku ripped your panties off and tossed them to the side, Urogi wasted no time diving his face between your thighs, his tongue curling through your sticky folds.

You arched your back, pressing your ass back against the other demon’s crotch, involuntarily grinding against his hard cock as the one with golden eyes feasts upon your center. It was ironic that the one with “pleasure” on his tongue was not the one between your thighs. You whimpered when Urogi’s tongue curled through your cunt, slurping messily as he sucked on your clit.

Aizetsu whimpered softly as his cock twitched against his thigh, rising to attention. He watched as his two more confident counterparts have their fun with the pretty slayer. “Karaku.” He said finally, his voice soft almost timid. “I think you should be the one eating her while Urogi fucks her throat.” His face flushed as he palmed himself through his pants. “And Sekido should use his blood demon art to shock her into submission as she takes his cock first.” 

Karaku grinned. “That’s a great idea, Aizetsu!” He laid down on the ground, relaxing against the cool floor as his hair fanned out underneath him. “But I think I’d rather her ride my face while Urogi fucks hers.” Easily holding down your hips, he grabbed you and pulled you away from Urogi’s tongue, a string of slick mixed saliva connecting you to the avian-like demon.

Urogi pouted at having his fun ruined, but grinned at Aizetsu’s words. The little shy bastard has some good ideas in that sorrowful mind. He cackled as he fumbled with the tie that held his pants together as Karaku settled you over his awaiting mouth. His talons caressed your face, thumb wiping at the tear that threatened to fall. “You’re going to be a good little cocksleeve for us, right?”

Sekido growled at the softer, more timid counterpart as he tapped his staff against the ground once more. “What utter foolishness. Like I want to stick my cock in that little whore’s body.” But his hard cock betrayed his angry words as he listened to your saccharine moans while his counterparts had their way with you. His narrowed red eyes watched as your throat bulged as Urogi slid his cock in deep, the yellow-eyed demon giggling as you tapped his thigh.

Growling once more, he dropped to his knees, pulling his dick out of his pants and fisted it roughly. His fangs grit as his claws of his other hand found your hair and yanked your head back to force you to meet his eyes. “You should feel lucky that I’m willing to fuck a needy bitch like you.” His palm smacked against the meat of your ass, making your hips buck against Karaku’s eager tongue and forcing more of Urogi’s cock down your throat.

You let out a whimper around the thick girth on your tongue as you feel Karaku dig his claws in your hips, pulling you even further down onto his mouth. He slurped so noisily at your pussy as his tongue dug orgasm after orgasm out of you. You lost count. Your moans were muffled by Urogi as he thrust into your mouth without abandon. Another pathetic sounding moan vibrated in your chest when you feel Sekido’s claws dig into the fat of your ass and spread your cheeks.

Shame filled your body as your eyes darted around, searching for someone to help you, but they only found Aizetsu, who was calmly stroking his cock, pre leaking – oozing from the tip as his face flushed with a blush. 

Aizetsu covered his face with his hand as he watched his counterparts. His voice was soft as he directed them on what to do. “Urogi, wrap your hand around her throat, choke her until she’s able to take all of your cock down her slutty little mouth. She doesn't get th breath if she doesn't. Kakaru suck on her clit more while using your tongue to fuck her hole. Sekido...” He pauses, his eyes darkening with desire as he works his hand over his cock faster. “Prep her ass for your cock.”

Your eyes widened when Aizetsu told the red-eyed demon what to do. You try to shake your head, but Urogi had wrapped his talon around your neck, his hips snapping faster as he fucks more of his cock down your throat.

“Now, pretty little plaything. It's not nice to be distracted. Eyes on me.” He grins as he tightens his hand around your neck, relishing in the choke-like moans that vibrated around his length. When you shift those big teary eyes back to his, his tongue fell from his mouth as he curled it in the air. “That’s the fucking look! Cry more, slayer!”

You could feel Sekido’s sharp claws dig into your flesh as he lowered his face between your thighs, his tongue slipping out to trace the ring of your puckered little hole. You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped. Sekido’s tongue was hot – hotter than Karaku’s. It felt like currents of electricity were shooking up and down your spine. 

Karaku flicks your clit, scraping it with his fangs as his fingers slip over your clenching hole. He lifts you off his face for a moment to stare up at your face. “Aww, is the pretty little slayer crying?” He cooed condescendingly, “Such a good girl you are.” His praise sounded fake as he pushed his fingers past the first ring of muscles of your dripping pussy. “Oh? Maybe I should call you a slut? Or our little cocksleeve whose only purpose is to be fucked by four demon cocks?”

Moaning around Urogi’s cock at Karaku’s filthy words, words that sounded like they were dipped in honey to your hazy mind. His fingers thrust up into you twisting and turning until they found that spot that made your body twitch and wreath above him. “That's the spot. Come on, let go for me. Cum on my tongue. I take pleasure in it.” Karaku mocked as he licks your cunt with the flat of his tattooed tongue.

“Shit, Karaku. Her throat tightened up when you did that.” Urogi’s cock twitches on your tongue as his talons tangle in your hair, pulling you even further down on his girth. “Fuck, gonna cum down this nasty throat. That what you want? My cum painting that greedy mouth of yours?” His smile was beyond feral as the talon around your neck tightens to the point where you couldn’t breathe.

Sekido growled as you ignored him in favor of his counterparts. His tongue circled the flesh of your asshole before pushing past that tight ring and wiggling inside. “Don’t fucking forget about me, nasty bitch.” He used his blood demon art to send streaks of lightning through your body, making you convulse and shake – the feeling making your body release your juices on Karaku’s tongue.

“Did I fucking say you could cum, dirty slut?” Sekido removed his tongue, fangs biting deeply into the roundness of your cheeks, nails digging into your flesh. He relishes in the fact that you had to pull away from Urogi to scream out from the painful pleasure of his abuse of your ass. Your blood trickled down his throat and he moaned a little at the taste of it. It was sweet – a potent elixir that coats his tongue. “Fucking delicious.” 

Aizetsu whimpered as he stroked his cock, his hand still covering his blushing face. His balls felt heavy as his length twitched against his palm, precum dribbling down the leaky tip. He was trying his best to remain calm, telling them how to please you. Aizetsu was shy, but even he had a limit on how much he could take – and he was approaching it. “Karaku, fuck her pussy hard, but don’t cum inside. Sekido, stop teasing her and give her your cock too. Spread her ass and spit in it. Urogi, have her suck your balls.”

Urogi eagerly did as Aizetsu told him, fisting his cock as he tilted your chin to stare deeply into your teary eyes. “Fuck, I love that you're being such a fucking crybaby and we haven’t even fucked you yet.” His thumb slipped into your mouth, talon scraping over your tongue. “You heard Aizetsu. Open up.” Urogi grinned as he placed his balls on your tongue and tossed his head back and lets out a mewl when your lips closed over them to suckle. “Such a good fucking whore you are.”

Karaku licked his lips clean of your sweet essence as he slid you down his chest, a trail of your slick coating his skin until his throbbing cock nudged at your hole. He shuddered at the feeling of your warm pussy gliding over his length. “Gonna fuck you so good. You gonna be a good little toy and take my cock all the way, yeah?” He lined the sticky tip up with your dripping hole and pushed inside with a low moan.

Sekido spread your ass cheeks, his eyes narrowing at the sight of your twitching little hole. Gathering a fat glob of saliva on his tongue, he lets it slide down past his lips to drip down into the crack. He used his thumb to smear it around and slowly pushed it inside to lubricate it more. Sekido lined his cock up with your tight hole and slowly pushes past the ring of muscle. “Tight ass bitch. Let me inside.” He growled as he gripped your hips tightly, claws threatening to rip your skin again.

You stiffened at the pain of being stretched so full by two cocks, the burn almost unbearable. Your moans were muffled by Urogi’s balls still suckled between your lips as he stroked his cock above your face. You whimpered as you felt them taking alternating thrusts inside you, touching the deepest part of you. Tears burned at the corners of your eyes as you could feel your body reacting to them, clenching down on them.

Karaku grinned as he felt your walls flutter and hug his dick tightly, sucking him in deeper. His finger squeezed in between your bodies to toy with the sensitive pearl of flesh. He watched as your back arched against him, shoving more of your ass back onto Sekido’s cock Laughing when he felt your nails dig into his chest like that would make him stop. “You’re so cute, slayer, but Aizetsu said to fuck you hard...” Karaku planted his feet on the ground more firmly, his claws digging into your thighs as he grabbed you tightly. “So, that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Sekido grunted as he snapped his hips roughly, bullying his fat cock deeper into your tight ass. A growl left him as your warm heat wrapped around him, hugging him so tightly. “F-fuck...” He whined softly, his face scrunching up from the pleasure. “Squeezing my dick like this. You must want me to fucking cum in your ass. You’re such a filthy little cumslut.” He grabs your hips so tightly, nails digging into your flesh and causing fresh blood to drip down onto Karaku’s waist.

Urogi’s tongue slipped out of his mouth and curled into the air as he laughed loudly, his cock throbbing at the sight of your tears. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum if you keep looking up at me with that face. Those fucking tears make me so hard. You want that? For me to cum on your face like the needy whore you are?” His voice shudders as his hand speeds up. “Or you’d rather I cum down the fucking throat, plugging up your nose so that you have no choice but to swallow?”

Before you could even answer, Aizetsu made the decision for you. “Make her swallow it, Urogi.”

“You heard him! Open up!” The yellow-eyed clone giggled as he pushed his cock back between your lips, dragging the throbbing hot flesh across your tongue. The tip hit the back of your throat and Urogi howls with pleasure as he grabbed the sides of your head to hold you steady as he fucked into your mouth.

Aizetsu’s face was flushed even as his blue eyes darkened – his control was wearing thin as his cock throbbed with the need for release. His hand wasn’t enough. He wanted to be inside your snug little pussy. He wanted to be the one to fill you so full of cum that it caused a bulge in her belly. Aizetsu bit his lip, fangs piercing the plump flesh and blood dribbled down his chin – which he quickly licked away. Soon. He’d let his counterparts finish first. 

Karaku’s hips meet yours as his cock bullied your insides, his tongue out to show the kanji etched on it as his eyes zero in on the way Urogi’s dick bulged in your pretty throat. “Fuck you’re taking all three of us so well.” His fingers tighten around your thighs – they were sure to leave bruises behind, marking you as his. Karaku grit his fangs as his balls slap against your cunt, cock tingling with the tale-tell signs of his release.

He had half an inkling to ignore Aiztesu’s command and cream this drippy little pussy of yours with his cum, paint your deepest parts in his color. But he was kinder than that. Aizetsu has been telling them just how to pleasure you, all while edging himself. “Go ahead.” He leaned up and nipped at your collarbone, sucking at the skin to leave more of his marks behind. “Cum on my cock. Soak it. Y’know you want to.”

Sekido threw his head back, hair fanning out as sweat dripped down the side of his face. Your tight little ass was giving him so much pleasure. His balls tightened as his dick throbbed and swelled inside. “Fucking bitch. Gonna cum in this filthy ass of yours. You’re just a fucking cumdump for me, got it?”

“Fuck, I’m about to cum.” Urogi grins as his talons pinched into the skin of your cheeks as he thrust in and out of your drooling mouth. “Take it! And don’t waste a drop!” With a few more deep thrusts, his hot milky seed filled your throat at such rapid speed that you had no choice but to swallow or choke.

Karaku moans loudly as his hands leave your thighs to squeeze your breasts as he felt you tighten and clench down on his cock as he found that sweet spot, pressing on his repeatedly until he felt you shaking and trembling. “Give it to me, pretty little plaything. Soak me in your juices. Let me see you make a mess like the good little slut we’re training you to be.”

You tossed your head back as you let out a loud cry. “Oh fuck!” You screamed as you came hard on Karaku’s dick, rings of cream frothing around the base as he continues to fuck you through your high. “I...I can’t. Please stop.”

Sekido grunted as he slid his cock out and pushed it in deep – stretching the tight muscles into his shape. “Shit.” He grit his fangs tightly as his claws cut into your skin once more. “Tch.” The red-eyed clone scoffs at the feeling of your blood coating his fingers. Taking his hand, he grabbed your cheek and forced your lips to part. “Suck your filthy blood off my fingers, bitch.”

The metallic taste that covered his fingertips coats your tongue as Sekido fucks into your tight hole with fast deep thrusts as Karaku’s mouth sucked on your nipples, his fang scrapping over the swell of them as his own thrust began to grow more and more sporadic.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Karaku moaned as he slammed into you once, twice, three more times before he pulled out and fists his slick covered cock. “Shit...” Cum paints your lower stomach and thighs as he finished and breathes heavily as your slick pussy lips grind over his half mast dick because of Sekido’s brutal thrusting.

Sekido grabbed one of your arms and pinned it to the small of your back, forcing you into a deeper arch for him as he fucked your ass with fast, hard snaps of his hips. His cock tingled and swelled inside you as he felt his end nearing. “Slutty ass bitch. You gonna cum from me fucking and filling your ass with my seed? I bet you are.” His teeth grit from the feeling of your tongue swirling around his fingers as you clean the blood off of them. “Fucking...I’m cumming. Cumming...!” He snarled as he came hard, spraying your insides with his hot cum.

You moaned like a cat in heat from the feeling of Sekido filling your tight, puckered hole – it creamed around his cock because it was so much. You collapsed on top of Karaku, chest heaving. “No...” you swallowed. “No, more.”

Karaku runs his claws soothingly over your back, his grin never leaving his face as he heard Aizetsu slowly making his way over to where you were. “But you only took three of us. There are four of us.” He reminded you as the shy blue-eyed clone pulled you up and into his arms.

Aizetsu cupped your cheek as he lifted you up against him and wrapped your legs around his waist. His lips found yours as his tongue seeks out yours. He swallowed your muffled cries and ignored your fists as they pound against his chest. He lined his weeping cock up with your hole, lifting your hips easily.

“Wait a second, Aizetsu. I ain't get a turn to fuck her.” Urogi said as he flew over to the two of you. “Lemme have her ass.”

Hands spread your ass cheeks, cum still dripping out of the tight hole of your ass. “This ass?” Aizetsu whispered as he slid inside your pussy with one fluid movement, your arms automatically wrapped around his neck as you moaned so beautifully for him. “G-go a-fuck-ahead.”

You let out a shocked gasp when the yellow-eyed avian-like demon let out a cackle as his talons wrapped around your shoulders as he lined his cock up with your still twitching hole as Aizetsu slowly thrust up into you. “No, please. I can’t take it anymore.”

Aizetsu turns your face back to his, his tongue – the Kanji “sorrow” etched into the pink muscle – sliding out to lick at the tears that gathered in your eyes. “You can, pretty slayer. Aren’t we making you feel so good? Tell me I’m making you feel good, please?”

Urogi ignored your pleas and pushed the fat tip of his cock past the tight ring of muscles, his knees buckling a bit. “Fuck, you’re so god damn tight. Such a horny thing.” He licked a line up your back, tasting the sweat that covered it. “You love having two cocks in your tight ass and cunt, right?”

Karaku felt left out and walked over to where his counterparts were and grabbed your hand. “C’mon pretty slayer, touch me too.” Wrapping your fingers around his cock, he used the movements from the other two thrusting up onto you to fuck your fist. 

You wrapped your other arm around Urogi’s neck, nails digging into his back as he and Aizetsu pound into you. You could tell the difference between the two by the pace. Aizetsu was slow, methodical and careful – building up an orgasm out of you. While Urogi fucked into you at an animalistic pace, his balls smacking against the curve of your ass. Your mouth dropped open into a series of drawn out curses, nails digging into Urogi’s back as the other squeezed Karaku’s cock.

“Oi, human!” Sekido growled out, not liking that he was the one left out now. “You got one more hole, let me–” He started to take a step towards them, his cock bobbing as he moved when all three of his counterparts glared at him.

“We wanna hear her.” They growled. The sounds of your moans were like the sweetest of sounds to their ears and they wanted to hear it more and more.

Aizetsu angled his hips so that his thrusts were deep, the thick tip fucking against your cervix with each precise thrust. His mouth drops open in a whimper as his eyes teared up from the feeling of your pussy quivering around him. “Please. Need for you to tell me that I’m making you feel good, slayer. I need to hear it.”

Each word of his last sentence was punctuated by a deep thrust and your head fell back against Urogi’s shoulder. “Fuck! You’re making me feel so fucking good.” You gave into the hypnotic spell Aizetsu was lulling you into with his gentle and tender touches.

Urogi laughed as he picked up speed, his balls starting to tighten with the threat of his release. “You’re damn right we are.” His feathers ruffled when your nails dig into the skin between them. “H-hey...” He mewled. “Not the wings.” The avian-like demon lets out a screen when your hand grabs the downy feathers near the base of his wings. A shudder goes down his spine as his dick swelled inside you as it began to paint your walls with his thick cum. “Fucking dammit...” 

Karaku watched as Urogi fell to his knees, his cock popping out of you as he did so. Aizetsu took that time to turn you around, hands wrapping under your thighs so that he could easily lift you up and down on his cock. “Don’t mind if I do.” He shoved the yellow-eyed clone out of the way as his lips attached to your clit.

The scream you let out was like music to them as Sekido begrudgingly walked over to use your hand to stroke his cock to completion. Your other hand wrapped around Aizetsu’s neck as you moaned those sweet sounding cries in his ear, encouraging him that he was still making you feel good. His lips nuzzled your ear as his voice rumbled, “Cum for me. Let me feel you soak my cock. That way I really know I’m making you feel good.”

“Yeah, our pretty plaything. Cum for Aizetsu and let me taste it. You can squirt, right?” His tongue swirled on your clit, teasing it with the tip as the blue-eyed clone thrust into you so deeply that your body jerked, hand tightening around Sekido’s cock.

“Fucking shit, bitch.” Sekido cursed, the tip drooling with pre as he felt his balls draw up, the telltale sign that he was about to cum. He fucked your fist faster, the slick sounds of it echoing in his ear. Sekido lets out another grunt before he spilt his seed, coating the top of your fist with it. “Making me cum like that...you’re such a whore...” he panted.

Aizetsu bounced you on his cock, determined to make you cum – to make you squirt so hard you passed out from the pleasure. His fangs grazed over the shell of your ear before he stuck his tongue in your ear as he felt you tighten up on his length. “Just let go and be our plaything.” He whispered.

Your back arched like a cat as you felt your thighs tremble, clit throbbing on Karaku's greedy tongue. Your chest heaved as your body convulsed, cumming hard, squirting – the hot clear liquid drenching Karaku’s face and dripping down Aizetsu’s thighs.

“Good fucking girl.” The green-eyed clone praised after he swallowed what he was able to catch on his tongue.

Aizetsu let out a whine as he trailed his tongue down the length of your neck before biting down gently on your pulse point. His thrust sped up until he was pounding into your soaked pussy. “Oh fuck. Oh shit...” He whimpered, tongue lapping at your pulse as he felt his cock twitching. He wasn’t to last much longer. “Gonna cum. Gonna cream this pussy. Say that’s what you want. Please tell me you want my cum.”

In your hazy fucked out mind, anything he said sounded heavenly. You mewled out weakly, “Want your cum. Give it to me.”

No sooner than those words left your throat, Aizetsu gave you a few more deep, cervix kissing thrusts before his hot cum spilled over inside your needy cunt. “Take it. Take it all.” He whined out as he fucked it deeper into you. “You’re our plaything now.”

Even you had to agree, You’ve become the plaything of the Upper Moon 4, Hantengu – no, the four clones, Sekido, Urogi, Karaku, and Aizetsu.

©️2022-23 nymphoheretic - I do not give permission to copy, edit, alter, or distribute my work. Do not adverse on tiktok. Do not repost on any other platform.

[bimobuddy]

Opposites

Decided to write a short little thing

Sfw tickling

FOP:ANW

Also I'm imagining them as human sized

Lee!Irep, Ler!Peri (little bit of a switch near the end for both of them)

"Get back here!"

"Stay away from me!"

Peri had been chasing after his counterpart for close to ten minutes now. The Dimmadome house was empty with Dale being away on a trip and Dev spending the day with Hazel, giving these two all the space in the world to fly and chase after each other.

Especially since Earth was safe for both of them. Irep couldn't enter Fairy-World, and Peri wouldn't last a day in Anti-Fairy-World.

Irep had been doing everything in his power to make this relaxing day hell for Peri; using magic to bring furniture to life, turning into a snake to coil around him tightly, and worst of all, speaking in brainrot. Safe to say the fairy eventually snapped.

Peri locked onto his target and gave his large butterfly wings extra power in their flapping, catching up and tackling Irep out of the air, who landed with a loud, "OOF!"

The anti turned his head and glared. "You could have broken my wing!"

"But I didn't." Peri smirked, immediately shoving his hands under Irep's leather jacket to scribble at his sides, resulting in the other to slam his arms down and go silent, holding back light giggles.

Oh yeah, opposite self, opposite spots.

He reached back and started to squeeze the back of Irep's knee, causing him to kick his legs frantically and burst out into panicked giggles, immediately trying to crawl away.

"Yeah, I figured it out: opposites. You're done for." Peri teased. "Actually, now that I think about it, I'm not super ticklish... here~" gentle fingers dug into his lower back and suddenly Irep was spazzing like he was being tazed.

"HAHAHAHA ST-" he cut himself off and tried to kick Peri away instead. So the fairy just sat on the backs of his legs to avoid getting kicked.

"Oh and you know what else I realized, buddy?" Peri teased, reaching up to lightly brush his fingers over his counterpart's pointed ears, earning a scrunch of the shoulders and uncharacteristically bubbly giggles. "Is that I don't care much for being on the receiving end. So that must mean~" "Noho-" "You love it don't you?" "NO!"

The anti-fairy's ears and neck turned a darker shade of blue as he doubled his efforts in 'fighting back,' to try and prove a point.

"Is that why you've been bothering me all day?" Peri asked, slipping his fingers under Irep's chin and getting a scrunched nose, fangs, and bright giggles in return.

Irep snapped at Peri's fingers like he was going to bite them, causing the latter to yank his hand back with a yelp. Now Irep was giggling for a different reason.

Peri narrowed his eyes at the jerk. "Alright then, have it your way. I know exactly where to strike now, since I'm not ticklish there at all."

Before the anti could even react or protest, Peri had unbent and opened his large, leathery bat-like wing and started to softly scritch his fingers into the joints and the delicate webbing between the bones.

Overwhelmed in the best way, Irep couldn't even close his wing, it just tensed up and stayed open while he kicked his legs furiously against the ground and buried his face into the floor, laughing and wheezing up a storm, so much so that even Peri started to laugh.

"Yohou- You sohound like a kettle-" he chuckled, gently pinching the base of his wing, getting the most feral of giggles out of him.

Irep's laughter was wheezy, harsh, and chaotic, but not necessarily unpleasant. Peri didn't mind it.

Though when it started to become all wheeze, Peri let up and moved back to just gently brushing over his ears. He didn't want to kill the guy, no matter how annoying he was.

Irep's wings drooped and practically melted off his back as he was granted a break. He panted through softer, shy giggles as his ears were tickled, occasionally twitching or jerking his head to the side.

"Yoho- You're dehehead.. ahafter thihis." The anti-fairy giggled out despite being a whole puddle on the floor.

"Don't act like you weren't directly asking for it." Peri replied, pulling his hands back completely to let him up. "We're even."

He got up off the giggly man beneath him, assuming he would be too tired to do much else. Though he realized he was mistaken as soon as he was yanked back and wrestled back down to the floor.

"You forget who you're speaking to, Peri. I don't play to get 'even.' I do whatever amuses me."

He vibrated a clawed hand into the fairy's belly and watched with delight as he started to kick his legs, tossing his head back in bright laughter.

[cinnamonest]

more thoughts on feral animal hybrid darlings please Lena 🥺 the wild fox darling with tighnari was so cute… I was imagining a scenario with Childe or Kazuha plucking hybrid darling out of the woods to take on their travels 🫣

I love writing these man, I don't normally do fluffy cutesy things but these are so soft and good for my soul, yet the "naive and unable to fully consent/easily manipulated" part gives it just enough of a dark touch so I don't combust into flames while making it. Writing hybrid posts is like eating warm soup on a cold day, it makes me feel warm and fuzzy, maybe I do have a soul after all

I actually would like to redo the boys in the original hybrid post, the very first one I did was so short I'd like to go back and make longer entries... So I'll start maybe doing that little by little.

I did do a wild girl one for Kazuha a while back in (the last hybrid post) (love our snek girl, our nope rope, our danger noodle) but for now I am redoing Childe and adding Itto, Dainsleif and Dottore (as this was requested by an ask I answered a bit ago), and a lengthy (entirely skippable so feel free to ignore it) rambling on lore at the beginning! >:3

//Basically enslavement of creatures, trafficking mentions, very naive hybrids, also needles for Dottore's

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In terms of worldbuilding, there's varying social perceptions on owning various hybrids. People tend to be inclined to think of hybrids similarly to how they'd think of the actual animal to which they share traits with.

For example, hybrids of wild animals are thought to be best left to their own devices by most people. But due to their human features, there's a lot of debate and discourse as to whether or not they should be left alone, as some say they "belong in the wild," and that it's cruel or inhumane to take them out of their natural environments. Whereas on the other end, some would argue that it's best for them to be brought into captivity and kept as pets, seeing as it significantly increases the hybrid's lifespan due to being better protected from danger and more readily able to receive medical care.

But even for those who think they should be kept as pets, that raises the issue of how, for some of them. Some are notoriously aggressive, just like their fully inhuman counterparts. Some require very specific environments and care that is very expensive to emulate in captivity, and thus end up only being owned by wealthier individuals who like to show off owning exotic pets (unless someone who probably shouldn't have one and can't afford this special care keeps one anyway, in which case it may become a legal issue). Reptiles, for example, should only be kept in warm climates, although some resolve this by keeping their houses artificially warmed. There are large-sized red lamps available for reptilians as well.

Thus, different nations actually have different regulations on the matter. Some have laws prohibiting the ownership of certain types of hybrids that are considered to be "wild animals," deeming it akin to animal cruelty to take them out of their homes in nature. Some outlaw the ownership of hybrids deemed to be too dangerous to be kept in a human community, such as highly venomous snakes and spiders, or aggressive and strong hybrids such as bears or tigers. Several nations also outlaw the ownership of hybrids considered invasive species, who are dangerous to local wildlife, or hybrids who are simply not suited to the local climate and thus becoming deemed cruel to put them in an environment where they're miserable and uncomfortable.

Black markets still exist, though, for those people who just can't get over the thought of how neat it would be to own an "exotic" pet. Much like a normal universe with normal animals, these people tend to be young males in their teens or 20s who think it's cool or edgy since it's dangerous and illegal, and something they can show off. As you can imagine, this doesn't go over well with law enforcement. However, sometimes they then have to deal with the issue of it being harmful to the hybrid's mental health to take them away from their owner, so exceptions are made as long as they remain subject to regular check-ins... thus, illegal ownership can essentially be excused, and a lot of guys take the chance.

Hybrids, however, are held to a higher standard of care due to their human likeness. Whereas it would be considered acceptable in some climates to have an exclusively outdoor dog or cat (the actual animal, not hybrids), in most places it's illegal to leave hybrids outside for extended periods of time, especially overnight, and especially in particularly hot or cold climates. Hybrid neglect is a crime that carries high penalties, so it's very rare to see this actually occur, and is usually dealt with swiftly when concerned neighbors alert authorities.

Neglected or abused hybrids will be taken into custody of said authorities, and then placed into specifically designated shelters that re-home them, much like animals. It runs the same way it would for regular domestic pets as well -- people can come in, look around, pick one and leave, but only after signing a bunch of papers and performing background checks and the like. Hybrids can be expensive, considerably more so than pet animals. This, however, does help ensure that they go to good people who intend to take good care of them.

Obviously, due to their humanoid nature, hybrids are fetishized, lusted after and frequently taken as partners. It's not necessarily for everyone. Much like any kink or fetish, there will be some guys who are foaming at the mouth at the mere mention of it, and some guys who shrug and say they don't really see the appeal at all.

There's also an attitude held by some that it's kind of pathetic, you'll hear some guys mocking or teasing friends who have one -- couldn't get a normal girl to date you? It's viewed similarly to how a guy who isn't very successful with girls might hire escorts or buy a sex doll or the like.

The legality of hybrid partnership, however, is... messy. The argument against it is a moral issue. Sex slavery, purchasing spouses, and forced marriage are all illegal. How is purchasing a pet to be some kind of fleshlight-spouse any different? Hybrids are loyal by nature, they could also hypothetically be emotionally manipulated this way too.

Likewise, there's moral qualms about their nature as well, regarding the hybrid capacity for consent. Many hybrids are low IQ and highly manipulable and gullible in general, so some people take issue with it. That's not even taking into account the ones that can't speak, and especially the ones that can't understand human speech too.

However, due to overwhelming populace demand, it remains generally legal. In most nations, the final ruling is that partnership and physical relations are legal, but most places do not legally marry the two. Also, this is influenced by the fact that it's simply such a common and widespread thing to have hybrid partners by the era that their rights even come into question, means that outlawing it would be stripping thousands of hybrids from their owners and tearing long-lasting unions apart, which would be emotionally detrimental to the hybrids themselves. Basically, the consensus is simply: is it manipulating the hybrid's good, loyal nature and low IQ? Yes. But is it better than the emotional distress it would cause them to be removed from their owner? Also yes.

Thus, you need money and legal verification, and in many places, you need to register a hybrid for money. In some nations, it's perfectly legal to just bring in a hybrid you find out on the street and take them in, and in some nations it's not, and you need registration through local government establishments. This can also be species-dependent -- there's a pretty stark difference in how it would be seen as wholesome and kind to take in some poor dog or cat abandoned in the street, but frowned upon and potentially seen as a wrongdoing to drag in some wild creature you find on a hike.

Discourse also exists on black market exotic hybrid trappers, people who set traps to catch wild, non-domesticated hybrids that may often hurt the hybrid in the process. Traps like bear traps are gradually outlawed, so wire/rope net traps and cage traps are more common, but this still bothers a lot of people to think of the distress it causes.

Perhaps it feels a little cruel even to trappers themselves -- the poor things are obviously terrified when they come check the traps. Some are angrier, lashing out in an attempt to bite and scratch, others have a more human-like reaction, just huddling at the back of the cage or curling up in the net, sniffling and trembling with tears on their face. Usually they're scraped up or have rope burns from desperate attempts to escape, so that has to be dealt with too.

Wild hybrids don't speak, so unfortunately there's no way to communicate to them that they're not going to be killed and eaten. After a few hours, they stop crying so much, but they're still visibly afraid and make some rather pitiful noises. There's often issues with getting them to eat and drink, as they're wary of anything presented to them. Usually they simply get so hungry they're willing to eat food they're given, despite their caution, and realize it won't harm them. The general public isn't aware of how distressing this whole process is... probably for the better.

Other laws exist regarding what is cruel or humane, and the attitudes regarding this vary a lot depending on the general nation's consensus, and sometimes simply depending on who you're talking to.

Is it cruel to clip bird hybrid wings? To dock certain breeds' tails? Is it fair to require doggirls with a history of biting to be muzzled in public? If a hybrid vet isn't available, is it reasonable to take a hybrid to a human medical facility in the case of an emergency? Should it be required to keep them in portable crates on transportation such as trains? Should they have to be kept on leashes in public areas? Should venomous reptiles be allowed in public at all?

Similarly, some people have different ideas on what is appropriate regarding them depending on whether or not the individual being asked sees them as "animals with human characteristics," or "humans with animal characteristics." Every individual leans towards one view or the other. The former is more likely to see them as lessers, while the latter may question the morality of keeping them so subservient and controlled, even if they do depend on humans a lot.

Some people will also have negative perceptions of others based on what they own, and communities may set rules for specific individuals with their pets. Someone in the neighborhood thought it was a bright idea to own a raccoon girl, who has since terrorized the neighbors by sneaking out at night to rummage through trash -- and due to human weight and size, knocking plenty of bins over and all over the ground in the process. Now, although that one is permitted to stay, the local city board makes a rule against hybrids of non-domesticated animals. Similarly, even in nations where it's generally legal, specific areas with high populations of families and children may make regulations against aggressive or venomous species.

And finally, when dealing with the most intelligent of creatures, there is an issue of hybrid rights to be addressed.

Rarely, a few abnormal hybrids possess full human intellect. It's a case-by-case sort of thing, but most of the time, if they can prove this, they will eventually be granted full, normal rights. They usually prove themselves, and go on to live normal lives (some become war generals and botanists for example!). However, these are abnormalities, and hybrids are assumed to be "normal" (low intelligence) by default.

Hybrid intellect can vary greatly from one species to the next, and this has sparked a lot of discussion as to whether or not some hybrids should be regarded as deserving the same rights as a person.

At the Sumeru Akademiya in particular, there have been studies over the years that have produced a citable average IQ for different species, as well as other matters related to intellect and stability. They test things like short term memory, ability to solve different puzzles of different difficulty levels, ability to follow logical thought processes, and so on. They also test for dependency, trying to determine to what degree the hybrid depends on the owner to go about its daily life.

The speech capacity is obviously dependent on exposure -- wild animals have no speech capacity, dogs and cats can usually speak fluently, and others like cows and goats, as well as street-dwellers like raccoons or rats, etc have moderate speech capacities. Wild animals can be captured and taught to some extent, but it works similar to real-life cases of feral humans: their brains are fully developed and no longer have the elasticity to fully master language, so at most, they will learn some words and phrases, but never speak in full capacity. A lot of such hybrids may learn words like their master's name, words like "hungry" or "water" or "sleepy" to indicate their needs, names of others, times of day, a few common sentences, and other words like "yes/no", "please," "sorry," etc. They also will often pick up on the name assigned to them, but have a pattern of referring to themselves in third person using this name, rather than the use of "I."

Cats, for example, are very high on the list. Foxes and dogs were slightly below them, but still rather high. Dogs in particular showed high levels of dependency -- despite being rather intelligent, they often would interrupt the observing researchers performing the test to ask when they could go home, see their master and so on.

Bovines, sheep and pigs, however, are significantly lower, as were small mammal species. These were found to be incapable of solving complex puzzles, took more time to solve simple ones, struggled with short term memory, and many showed signs of high levels of distress as soon as they were taken to a separate room where they couldn't see their owner (who was watching, they allowed that, through one of those one-way glass panels on the side). The results for those were actually partially inconclusive, because they quickly learned that hybrids of these types would quickly become overwhelmed and confused by the task or puzzle before them and would start to whimper and tear up, shaking their heads and squeezing their eyes shut and stubbornly nn-mm!-ing when prompted to continue, refusing to carry on anymore and, thus proving the dependency aspect, start crying for their masters. They weren't so cruel as to deny them that, so they allowed them to quit early and be returned to the comfort of the familiarity of their owners -- to whom they would usually scamper over to as fast as possible.

On the bright side, the intelligent ones very quickly were able to, and all of them eventually able to, successfully complete the "put the shaped wooden blocks through the correct shape hole" test, which was the most basic one. However, the issues began when they reached numerical problems -- "if you have five and give two away, how many do you have left?" was mostly answered right (they were allowed to use their fingers to figure it out, which helped), but multiplication and division based problems were when some subspecies really began to struggle.

This leaves a bit of an ethical dilemma. The intellect varies so much that it seems unsafe to give the less intelligent ones rights, for the sake of their own well-being, whereas for more intelligent ones it seems cruel to deny them rights. And then the question becomes, where should the line be drawn?

The ultimate decision is that, for the sake of the more vulnerable ones, it's for the best to just make a sweeping judgement for their safety, even if it mean subjecting intelligent hybrids to subservience. So outside of the exceptions of highly intelligent individuals, the average species intelligence doesn't really matter, they'll just be subject to ownership anyway.

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Childe - beargirl

Whenever Ajax makes a trip back home, people often ask him to do all sorts of stuff. Can he fix this or that, fight off these bandits that are harassing a housing cluster, so on and so on. He was always running around doing tasks for locals in his tween years, and it just kind of stuck. Plus, due to being strong, a lot of the elderly in particular ask him out to help them with this or that.

Maybe it makes him feel a little used sometimes, but he likes to help, even if the matter is trivial.

On this most recent venture, according to the neighbors that approach him as soon as he sets foot in his hometown (after at least a brief hello how are you sort of thing, so they have some semblance of politeness), the matter is supposedly a menace of an animal stealing large amounts of fish out of fishery storages. Fishermen come in with their nets, dump a large amount into a vat, leave to get the next batch... only recently, to come back to a near-empty storage unit. Whatever it is, it's eating enough fish to feed an entire family.

But are you to be blamed? They're the ones dumb enough to just leave it all sitting there, unguarded, so you think. If they didn't want their fish eaten, they shouldn't have left it so easy to access. And if the humans really needed it, they would guard it better, so they must not really need it. And you leave some for them, too, you only eat a little over half to make sure they still have enough for themselves.

You still memorize their schedule, though, preferring to avoid direct confrontation, making sure you know around what time they'll be gone so you can come in undetected. Thus, it catches you off-guard when a human nonetheless enters the storage unit as you're chomping down mid-meal.

There's a few moments of quiet that pass as you both look each other up and down. You stare up at him. He looks down at you, where you sit on the ground, half a fish sticking out of your mouth. Round ears, a short little stump of a tail. You make a rough throaty noise.

It's adorable. Granted, this man would probably be able to pet an actual bear without a modicum of fear, but especially seeing as you're human-sized, it's even cuter. After a brief moment of wide-eyed surprise, you see a smirk of amusement form on his face.

It feels mocking. You glare. Your eyebrows furrow and your nose scrunches up, you stomp your way to stand up on your hind legs (or, as humans call them... legs), stretch your arms out for maximum intimidation, and ferociously growl.

He... puts his hand over his mouth, chortling, barely holding back laughter. You don't understand it, but he says something to you, before reaching out, patting the palm of his hand to the top of your head.

Your face suddenly feels very hot. That growl scares off all the small animals! Why is the human not afraid? You will be forced to engage in aggression to get him to go away, lest he try to steal from you. Summoning you maximum strength, growling still, you stomp forward, swinging your hand to thwack him in the side of the head.

But he catches your hand. Hold you firmly, shoves you down. You struggle against the human, but in a few seconds flat, he has you pinned to the ground, growling and snarling at him. A very strong human indeed. It does frighten you, but you're fairly certain humans don't eat creatures like yourself, right? You struggle and you squirm, you writhe and thrash, but soon the human has you all bound up, slinging you up over his shoulder and carrying you off as you growl and huff, a smile on his face. At least that's that taken care of. Who would have thought he'd get so lucky?

The problem is taken care of, sure, but if he just put you out in the woods, you'd just come right back. Normally, this would pose a very difficult-to-solve problem, but as he carries you back to the edge of the forest, he starts to think about this issue, and comes up with an alternate solution. Why not just... keep you? Yeah, that seems like a good idea. Why not? You're so cute, you'll make a great pet!

Of course, he knows people won't really take well to the thought of him keeping a whole bear. Some people will question the morality of the harbinger's actions. It's a wild animal, after all, is it really okay for him to take you away from your natural habitat like this?

However, the vast majority are more concerned with it being... you know, aggressive, strong, incapable of understanding speech, prone to biting and hitting, unfamiliar with human norms and unadjusted to society. But hey, none of that really matters when you have authority to get whatever unreasonable thing you want!

Similarly, some would argue that taking hybrids out of natural environments is unethical when you can't provide them with the food, environment, or temperature they need... but that's not really a problem when you're a high-status, high-power individual who can force a bunch of other people who have no other choice to inconvenience themselves so that you can provide for those needs. He sees no issue there, you can easily have you needs met.

But just look at you, where he has you set on the ground now all tied up, shuffling over to him and viciously gnawing his ankle (unaware you're biting into a boot and not flesh, but making a valiant effort to bite the limb off nonetheless). So cute. How could he just let you go? No, he can work this out. He sets aside the next few hours to go the specifics of his intentions with the first subordinates he comes across, the ones that accompanied him back here. Watching as their eyes go wide, a very uncomfortable look on their faces as they glance over at the growling creature he has in his arms, leaning back to avoid how you chomp your jaws down, craning your neck forward in an attempt to bite them.

One of them is daring enough to voice the obvious concern -- sir, maybe it would be best to let this one go and get something less... wild... and dangerous...?

Huh? Dangerous? Nah, she's just play-biting. She won't hurt anybody, see? He sits you upright, sits behind you, squishes your face in his hands. She's a softie, she's not really mean. You snarl and attempt to bite his hands as he speaks.

Besides, he adds, you'll live a much better life in captivity! You'll be happier and healthier. He's doing a good thing, really, an act of goodwill and compassion for this poor, poor creature. So, while he finishes up all the things he needed to get done on this trip home, he has them go ahead and carry you back to the lodgings to be taken onto the ship when he leaves tomorrow... you do bite directly into a subordinate's ear on the trip. Poor guy ends up with a permanent scar from the whole thing, but at least they got you to un-latch your jaw after several minutes of the guy screaming while they tried to pry your mouth open.

As it turns out, he was right, you're really no trouble at all to have, and keeping you here is a delight! At least, that's what Ajax himself says. The subordinates are less inclined to agree, but they do so verbally, at least.

You have to try to wear the clothes. You don't like them, sure, but it's kind of necessary. Have to start small and gradually make progress, buying a bulk of plain large shirts, gradually training you to not rip them apart via treat rewards for not doing so.

You eat a lot. Like, a lot. He's lucky to be so high in rank, or the Fatui would never agree to cover the costs of your eating needs. It's baffling. If you paid attention to your surroundings (you don't, but just if you did), you would often see the underlings watching you from a distance as you eat with some mix of surprise, bewilderment, and borderline horror as you consume ungodly amounts of food in a matter of seconds.

They have to go to the markets and purchase large amounts of imported fish -- specifically those, as you turn your nose up at local species. It has to be the fish you're familiar with, and yes, you can tell the difference, and yes, you will get angry and violent if you are presented with fish you do not like. You initially turn your nose up to cooked meats too, so they have to go out of their way to procure high quality raw fish and meat. Over time, they manage to get you conditioned and willing to eat cooked fish, so that's at least one small victory for them.

The most desired of treats, however, is raw honeycomb -- made the mistake of giving it to you once, and now you get grouchy when you can't have any, pawing and kneading at your master until you get some (or rather, until subordinates get you some). No, bottled honey is not good and you refuse to eat it, so they quickly discover. Has to have the comb and everything. This is rather expensive to buy, but you know, they have the funds, and if this is what they're commanded to spend it on, so be it... although they do get some odd looks from the poor market vendor when a bunch of guys in recognizable Fatui garb come to purchase everything last piece to be sold. And, of course, someone has to come after you to wipe the floor up after you inevitably spill some on the ground too... calling you a messy eater would be an understatement.

Also, they go to some rather insane extents to keep you cool. They managed to locate a lower rank grunt with a cryo vision, who has now, as per the title given to him by the other grunts who have all sort of group-bully the poor thing about it, become the unfortunate 'bear-sitter' for the harbinger. His job is quite literally to chill down your environment. They've brought in tub-sized containers of water, had them frozen, gotten someone else to crush it up with a hammer and let you -- with a very content expression, seemingly pleased -- rest in it until it melted, and repeated the process. This is not exactly how the poor guy expected the Fatui to make use of his vision, but hey, he's getting paid... at least that what he tells himself.

You're also, ah, kind of aggressive, especially if displeased by being too hot or lack of proper food. They sort of stiffen if they see your presence nearby. Despite being roughly human-sized, you have a lot of strength in those arms, and a good swat to the head will send someone straight into unconsciousness. You are, unfortunately, very aware of your strength, and have no reservations with using it at the slightest of inconveniences or irritation. This has led to a variety of various blunt-force injuries for various underlings. Ajax promises you're getting better with time, and besides, it's just minor stuff that'll heal with time.

However, despite your frequent aggresion, you're not at all unhappy. Sure, sometimes it gets uncomfortably warm, but other than that, you're living like a king!

You have no idea what's going on, but you've accepted it by now.

The humans bring you tray after tray of fish, and you get to lay around all day. Why do they serve you this way? You have no clue. But you're not complaining. Why were you brought out of the wild, why do you sleep in a human bed, what is the point of all these various noises the humans are constantly making with their mouths to each other? Who knows. None of it really matters anyway. You were very oppositional at first, attacked everyone who came near and refused to comply, but you've learned very quickly that this is a major improvement from sleeping outside in caves, drinking river water, having to worry about hunting for yourself. And the many masked humans are the ones serving you, so you have decided that for now, you will spare them, although you may reconsider eating them at a later date.

All you have to do is keep the clothes on your body and not wander off too far from the loud ginger human that brought you here, and as long as you do those things, everything remains tranquil and pleasing to you.

Said human, the one that found you and keeps you by his side, he is very strong. Coming across a human stronger than you was quite shocking, and you have some respect for it. It's why he's the one you don't attack, that you don't bite... at least eventually. You tried to bite him often at first, but he always grabs your jaw and forces it shut, holds your arms still so you can't swat him. No, bad. Bad girl, stop that. Over time, you learn these words mean to cease the behavior, and although you do not like being told what to do, you have little choice. For starters, the human is strong enough to restrain you, and secondly, if you continuously misbehave, he puts you into a large crate for an extended period of time with no snacks and no entertainment. This does give strong incentive to refrain from these behaviors, and you are given toys to chew on anyway, so you just bite those and pretend they are the humans.

But over time, you grow to have a sort of reverence for such strength, so you no longer want to attack him anyway.

More importantly, that means surely, this human is fit to protect you and any potential offspring. If you had to procreate with a human, this one would produce strong cubs. Your brain tells you that strength is good and that this human should be mated with. So for now, you decide to stay by his side and not hurt him.

Unless you're attacking him, though, you can do no wrong. He plays off everything you do like it's no big deal, like it's cute. Oh, you just slammed someone in the side of the head and knocked them out? Aw, someone's grumpy. You snatched some poor grunt's meal right out of his hand and ate it? Well, she can't help being hungry! You end up terrorizing, bullying, and attempt to eat that sheep hybrid that lives here too on a daily basis? Well he should keep a better eye on her, mine's just following instincts.

And then there was that time you quite literally bit a man's finger off, and it had to be reattached -- but not after quite the struggle getting you to give it up, but he was nice about that too. Come on, be good, spit it out. You eventually complied with this request, seeing as you had no way to explain that the human in question had been annoying you, so you supposed you'd be the better person here and give him the appendage back even if such graciousness is undeserved.

Said underlings still attempt to occasionally protest the whole thing. Couldn't he have picked, you know, maybe a normal one? Like... a dog? A cat? A rabbit? Something that only needs light maintenance and doesn't regularly gives people concussions?

Nah. He would hold your face from behind as if to display you, squishing your cheeks and saying something about how cute you are. So cute! She won't hurt anyone, see? You make a low rumbling noise in your throat, intensely glaring at the onlooker, who then by that point usually has taken a few steps back and is quickly trying to exit the conversation. Seeing that narrow-eyed look on your face, the way you bare those pointed teeth when you growl... it shuts down anyone trying to object to him having you pretty quickly.

In truth, he's aware of the effect, even if he pretends to be blissfully ignorant to why they suddenly scurry off. He finds people protesting your presence very annoying, so he has no qualms about scaring them away.

He's not lying when he calls it cute, though. Your growling and aggression is cute to him, in his own morbid little way.

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Dainsleif - Doggirl

Dainsleif has actually considered dog hybrid ownership on more than one occasion. It's more of a passing thought, though, the sort of what-if thought all people have every now and then, briefly imagining the possibility in his head. But he has no intention to ever actually go through with such a thing, no, it would be far too impractical for his circumstances, and unfair to the creature in question. It's just a pleasant concept, but not realistic.

Or maybe he could get an actual dog. Like, an animal, nothing humanoid about it, no having to deal with the awkwardness of the raised-eyebrow look of judgement and suspicion he knows he'd get from the sellers if he got a hybrid one. Single adult man with obvious distaste for interaction, purchasing a hybrid of all things... they'd think it was for nefarious purposes.

But he's certainly heavily considered the idea. He could get one of those big hunting dog types. Granted, an actual animal would work, but it would be kind of nice to have something that could communicate back to him.

It would be useful for his somewhat nomadic, quest-driven lifestyle. He can't always afford the time to stop in cities and the like, but he's not the most skilled hunter out there. Having a dog that could sniff out and even chase down small animals, and hear upcoming enemies from a distance, would be very useful.

But it's just a thought he's entertained a few times. Not something he actually wants enough to act upon. It would be a hassle, you know? So while he's mulled over it a bit, it never goes beyond abstract thoughts, never into anything serious.

Instead, you sort of come to him.

Not that he's doing anything out of the ordinary to invoke your presence, no. Just traveling as usual, exploring a rural area on the outskirts of a more urban one, with the occasional homestead dotted here or there. A voice calls out of nowhere -- wait, wait! When he turns to face the source of the sound, he can see you from a distance, running up to him, clearly intending to approach him for some reason. He pauses, waits for you to come up.

You seem to be one of those little... yappy dogs.

See, much like with animals in general, for various dog hybrids, the personality and breed are correlated. You're one of those tiny fluffy dogs, where the actual dog you share half your DNA with would fit in a handbag or the like. Those breeds that are made solely for the purpose of being luxury pets with poor athletic and endurance abilities. Your tail is shaped like a pom-pom, more fluff than tail itself. Your ears are disproportionately huge to your head, and equally covered in silky fluff. They bounce with each little step you take as you run up to him, eyes tearful and voice strained with panic. He's the first person to have come by in some time, and likely no one else to help will come by any time soon, so you force yourself to be brave and implore for help from this man, even though he is quite scary-looking.

My master is sick.

Your ears flatten to your head. He has to refrain from sighing... he can't afford to be using up valuable time like this, you probably just need to go into town and get a doctor. Still, he can't bring himself to ignore you or refuse to help.

He does try, though. He opens his mouth and is just about to try and say that you need to go into town and get an actual doctor, and that he has places to be, but... then he looks you in the eye, sees your watery eyes and trembling lip and you look so scared and pitiful and... ugh. Curse him for having a soft side. Fine. He takes a deep breath, asks you to take him in and he'll try his best to help you.

Thankfully, the reality of the situation doesn't hit him all at once and thereby catch him off-guard -- no, the moment you open the door into the main room, the smell that hits him is putrid enough that he's prepared for what he knows he's about to see when you pull the bedroom curtain back. Yeah... ugh, the body is at least several days old.  He feels a twinge of pity looking around the room, several cups of water and the like that you, in your confusion and concern, have brought over.

...You don't understand. You're looking up at him like you're waiting for him to do something to help. Your cognitive capacity isn't deep enough to grasp what's happening. Great... this is a very unpleasant situation to be stuck in.

He explains it to you slowly, but it dawns on you what he's leading up to as he's trying to explain. Your eyes water up. No! He's fine, he's just sick... he was sick and coughing until a few days ago...

He stays for a few hours. You keep trying to desperately nudge the body, now distraught and whimpering. He can't bring himself to just up and leave, so he watches as you do so, repetitively insisting the man is fine, until finally, after a few hours, you lower down onto the ground, pull your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around them, and bury your face into your arms, shivering and sniffling, ears flattened to your head.

He can be cold, but he's not heartless. He feels a lot of pity, watching you as you accept the matter. What is he supposed to do now? He can't just leave you here, not in good conscience... you'll probably die on your own.

He's quiet for a long time, deep in thought. It's well into the evening when he finally speaks again.

You can't stay here. I'll take you somewhere safe.

You refuse, shaking your head. He has to reason with you. Tell you that you'll be all alone, that you'll be in danger of attackers and predators, that you're going to starve or get sick. Eventually, after a lot of trying to get through to you, you reluctantly agree.

Well, that's good. It won't be a big deal, he thinks to himself. He can just... take you to the nearest town, drop you off at a shelter. You'll be much better off than you would be left alone here. You're not made for hunting or anything, you'll certainly starve to death or worse if he were to let you stay by yourself. He's doing a good thing. It won't be much time at all. You'll be taken care of, and in fact, giving you up to a shelter is probably even better than the life you were living out here. He can't help but wonder why some old man had you out here, living alone... ugh.

In the morning, he sets off, letting you trail behind him. Takes you all the way into the nearest big city. Your eyes are full of wonder, mouth hanging open as you take in all the sights and sounds of a bustling urban area. It's rather cute, but he has to get you to hold his hand so you don't go running off. He ends up finding the place, but... well, he doesn't like the look of the local shelter. Big grey slab, looks very uninviting and cold, seems overcrowded, and something about it just makes him feel... off. He can't bring himself to leave you at a place like this. They're probably too overcrowded to take care of you properly. He can't do that, the guilt would eat away at him.

Next town, maybe. You'll have to accompany him a while longer, he tells you, sorry. You don't seem to mind. You barely hear him, too distracted by everything going on around you until you exit and return to the beaten path. And thus begins what he assumes will be a very brief journey together.

It does occur to him that, after so much idle thought about getting one, it's kind of ironic that a dog hybrid fell into his hands by complete chance anyway. Of course, having you is not what he imagined when he used to think about acquiring a dog. He was envisioning a hybrid that could, you know, sort of rough the wilderness with him. Instead, he soon finds that you end up essentially making his life even harder, posing a burden at every conceivable opportunity.

His teleportative capabilities can only do so much, so he does have to travel by foot quite a bit... but you struggle to keep up.

Noooo, you whine, you don't want to cross the stream because your tail will get wet. He ends up having to make two trips across the water, the first to carry you, your legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck (your little pom-pom tail stiff and twitching all the while), then the second to go back and get the things he was carrying. He has to make much more frequent stops, as your feet begin to hurt, and you get hungry rather frequently (and, as it turns out, are a bit picky too).

Granted, you can fulfill the functions he originally considered a dog hybrid for. You can sniff out small animals... except you don't really chase them, just go ballistic at the sight and yap at them as they run up the trees and out of range, scaring away anything nearby. Not to mention, your scent tends to lure predators... and even worse, you attack predators.

See, much like any small dog, you have this odd duality where it seems your brain fails to process that you are, in fact, not a large and deadly animal, and thus you feel the need to attack almost everything, regardless of how many times your size and strength they are. Tigers, sumpter beasts, lawachurls. It's an instinct, too, you'll just be walking or resting until your ears suddenly perk up, your pupils go huge and you bolt off before he can stop you. The creatures often don't see you at first, they just hear a high-pitched yapping sound, turn their heads all around only to finally notice you when you bite their heels. Thankfully, up to now, every single time he's managed to come right behind you, running after you and calling out to you, snatching you up just before you were about to get crushed, impaled, or chomped on. Traveling through Sumeru, you were nearly swallowed up by those tigers what, eight times? It didn't help that, since your brain registered them as cats, your instinct was instead to lunge at them.

In fact, you can't help but yap at enemies even from a distance, thereby drawing enemies that would have otherwise let you pass unnoticed and luring them into combat for him to fight off -- all while ensuring your safety, since, despite your incessant yapping and growling at the sight of them, once they start swinging at you, you curl up into a fetal position and whimper, tail between your legs, crying for him to make them go away. In addition to these safety concerns, you have a tendency to eat whatever you may find, various berries and plants that you swallow up when he has his head turned, often resulting in you getting very sick and him having to care for you as you recover.

You struggle with his name. Mister Day-nz-leeeeev. Too weird of a word for your doggie brain. You settle for Mister, as you call all unfamiliar men, but as time goes on you swap out a vowel, and he sort of just comes to the realization one day when you say it that you've been calling him Master for a while now.

He clenches his jaw. That's not right. That sounds too... permanent. He's still going to drop you off somewhere, you know, he just needs to find a place first.

...He does need to do that, right? He can't just...

No. No, he can't keep you. He chastises himself for even letting the thought cross his mind for a split second. His journey is far too dangerous, and his own future too uncertain to commit to such a thing. It's a non-option.

But the next town also doesn't have a very inviting-looking shelter. He can't leave you here. No, it looks cold and sad and not a place he can feel unworried about leaving you in.

What if the people are neglectful? What if they don't feed you? They'll probably not give you the same amount of focused attention as he does, they're busy taking care of tons of creatures. They won't know you only like this food made this way, that you need these certain conditions to sleep, all the little specific needs you have that he's learned with time. There's no way he can leave you here. He'll have to find someplace else. Surely, soon he'll find somewhere he can leave you.

Each night, now, he runs fingers through your ears and tail, checking to make sure you didn't get any ticks on you with those huge fluffy ears. So soft... but he ends up retracting his hands. He grinds his teeth and moves away from you. Can't afford to get too attached, and he tells himself it would be taking advantage of your naivete to touch you too much in a way that you, too, might get attached.

He ends up not having much of a choice, though. You end up having an… incident. He gets flustered thinking about it at any point afterwards. About a month in, laying there one night trying to go to sleep, you get all… whimper-y. You shuffle over to him and start… wrapping your legs around his leg and… grinding forward… little canine whines, you whimper that you feel hot and weird. Oh. Great. How is he supposed to handle this? It’s the most awkward few minutes of his life.

This man is not exactly the best at dealing with embarrassing subjects, he pretty much just goes red in the face and nearly stammers as he speaks, tells you to just calm down and… and uh… well, he ends up basically just letting you do it. Watching with wide eyes and heavy breath, giving you comforting rubs on your head and neck until you finally shudder and go still, and, thankfully for him so he doesn’t have to deal with unbearable shame, nearly immediately fall asleep – but not before snuggling up to him, wrapping your arms around him. He has trouble falling asleep that night.

He tries not to speak about it from then on out, and thankfully, you seem to not find it strange or shameful at all, not even acknowledging it the next day or ever again. He just resolves to maybe try and forget the matter. He almost, almost finds himself thinking something along the lines of what he can do to help you next time, almost starts thinking through and imagining it in his head, but he stops himself.

No. There is no next time. He'll have found you a better place to stay by then. Maybe those shelters will be able to medicate you or something to prevent this. Yeah, they'll be able to take care of it better than he can.

For now, he'll just have to keep you with him and worry about everything else, such as keeping you safe. He's afraid of failing in that task, though. Always checking up on you.

There's one incident where it comes far too close.

He really, really doesn't mean it. You were being whiny again, complaining you don't want to keep walking, that you don't want to take this route because it's muddy or cold. He's irritated, he speaks without thinking.

Do you realize how much more difficult you make things for me?

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets it. He didn't mean to say something so cruel... he opens his mouth to apologize, but can't find the words.

Oh, no. Your ears tilt back, your little eyes water up and you start to sniffle. Yeah... now he feels really bad.

Agh... hey, he didn't mean that, just... just go to bed for now, okay? He's just frustrated. It'll be better tomorrow. You both need some sleep. You agree to that, sadly curling up into a ball, facing away from him.

As bad as he feels, the situation takes a turn for the worse when he wakes up to find your sleeping bag empty.

He immediately panics. Dammit. You must have run off. Surely nothing took you away, right? He would have heard that.

Yes, sure enough, there's your footprints on the ground. Unfortunately, they cut off only a few feet away.

He scours the area for hours. Calling out to you, doing everything in his power to hunt you down. Checking under every crevice, behind every tree. Eventually, he swallows the dread and checks beside the nearby river, the only place he's hoping to not find you, as he knows it would likely be in the form of your body washed up on the side bank. But still nothing. He makes several rounds around the area. How far could you have gone?

It's not until he finally resolves to go back to where you two had been sleeping and see if maybe you decided to return there, that he hears a whimpering. Coming from... up?

He tilts his head upward. You're up in the branches, curled up. It's an overwhelming feeling of relief.

So much so that even in that moment, he realizes just how much importance he's staked on you. He's fully aware, and isn't the type to push thoughts away or lie to himself. He has to acknowledge the realization in that moment that he's grown so attached to you that the thought of something having happened to you is the greatest panic he's felt in ages, decades even.

You open your eyes when he calls out for you, you're all trembling and sniffling. You say you climbed up to escape a monster that was chasing you. But being a canine, and not a feline, you're not exactly adept at climbing up or down, and now you're stuck, too afraid to attempt to come back down.

But when he tells you to come down, that he'll catch you, you shake your head, ears facing back, puff your cheeks out.

No! You don't even want me! You want me to go away, so I'm gonna go somewhere else!

He sighs. It's petulant, stubborn. You're being childish, and he knows that. But he can't help but feel guilty.

No, I...

He has to pause for a moment. Never been too good with words.

He says he's sorry. That he didn't mean it. That he wants you to stay with him, that he cares about you and wants you by his side.

If I didn't care for you, I wouldn't have bothered looking for you, would I? So... come on, just come down...

Your ears twitch.

Promise?

He gives a long sigh.

Yes, I promise. Come on, I'll catch you.

He holds his arms up and open. You hesitate a moment longer, pausing to wipe your face from all the crying you were doing before.

And finally, after a moment, you leap off, landing directly into his arms. The force is a bit much, and he actually goes stumbling backwards, landing flat on his back. At least it provides a cushion to you, though.

You both lay there for a moment. You feel him take a deep breath in and out. He reaches up to stroke the top of your head. You lay your face down against his chest.

In truth, he's rather worried about the future, if he gets into any serious danger while pursuing his quite powerful enemies... and even so, he also thinks about the fact that your lifespan is limited. He doesn't like that thought. Perhaps he was intentionally trying to avoid growing attached to you for that reason. It makes him feel like there's a knot in his stomach.

But when he tilts his head down to look at you, sees the content expression on your face as you nuzzle your face into his chest, sees your fluff tail moving back and forth... he decides that whatever inevitable pain the future may hold, maybe he can allow himself to indulge in this happiness for now, even if but for what is to him the blink of an eye.

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

Itto - Cowgirl

"Cow" almost feels like an inaccurate description; it invokes too much imagery of a soft, gentle giant sort of animal, peacefully gnawing at grass in a field, rather than the more accurate portrayal of the utter horned, mooing demon that the actual you embodies.

Aggressive and high-strung, and very territorial, it's a fairly common problem with your specific breed. Your cow ears and wiry tail are always twitching with irritation.

And it is for that reason that you find yourself alone on a path in the Inazuman wilderness. This one's too feisty. So they said, you understood that even with a very limited vocabulary and understanding of speech. Didn't bother to try selling you off, since it your aggression was obvious enough no one would accept, so they just dumped you out here on the road, far away and unable to attack the rest of the hybrid herd. You find yourself huffing, stomping around as you navigate the wilderness. Nothing better to do, so you might as well try and find somewhere to go from here. You're rather irked about the whole thing, though. You were never that bad. They were overreacting.

How rude, to just abandon you out here. You're mad. You decide that the next human you see is getting a set of horns directly in their stomach.

Which doesn't take long. You were dropped off somewhat close to the nearby city, along the pathway. Not even half an hour has passed before you cross paths with a human, a very loud one, walks very heavily.

He does take notice of you, though, pausing in his steps. Says something to you you don't understand -- what are you doing out here? -- with a big smile. Seems to find you quite amusing, strolls right over and past the top of your head, laughing about something or another.

How bothersome. You huff a heavy breath, pawing your foot into the ground in a warning gesture. The golden ring through your nose moves with your huffing. He doesn't seemed fazed by it, still more amused than anything, and thus, you have no choice but to take a few steps back, tilt your head down, and lunge forward. Hopefully you'll skewer him.

You're met with a harsh resistance, stopped so firmly the sudden force to your head makes a dull ache in your skull.

Woah, woah, slow down there, uh....

It takes you a few seconds to process that he's holding you still by the horns, one hand gripped around each one. Humans are generally quite weak, and easily knocked over. This one, however, is holding you perfectly still, and he's not even tense, nor planting his feet apart in a stance to ground himself, no, just sort of standing there in a relaxed stance, looking down at you with an inquisitive, but very unbothered and unstrained expression, as if restraining you is not causing him to exert any real effort or strength.

Woah, you're really trying to get me huh. Haha.

He's laughing at you. Not maliciously, more amused, but it makes you feel a tight knot of embarrassment in your chest nonetheless.

After a moment of aggressive thrashing from you, though, shoving yourself forward with as much force as you can muster, you feel your feet leave the ground. You go up, and then, you go down. Your back slams into the ground.

The blow leaves you dizzy. Your vision is spinning, you're flat on your back staring up at the sky, blinking, wide-eyed with shock.

Oh, uh... didn't mean to throw you that hard.... you alright?

You sit up, but you're swaying from side to side pretty badly, jaw hanging open.... whoops. He was just trying to get you to calm down, swear, didn't mean to make you hit your head. Well, never fear, you're in good hands! So, you know, no need to go running off to your owner and getting someone mad at him...

Actually... where is your owner? Hm... you don't have anything on you but basically rags, no collar or anything. And there's no houses or fencing nearby. Oh, you don't have an owner, you must be wild. That's good, that means no one can come after him and get him charged with hybrid assault or something -- or, ah, good because he just doesn't have to explain that you're definitely not actually hurt at all and that you just fell over is all. Uh... what's got you so aggressive though? He was just trying to pet you...

Oh! You probably have something wrong you need help with! He's heard plenty of stories like that before, some wild hybrid or animal will approach a human and try to communicate some need, try to get help from a higher species. And animals get aggressive when they're in pain right? Maybe you're really hurt. Well, no worries, you've come to the right person. Good thing too, you could've ended up coming across a really bad person instead. You were smart to come to him for help! You clearly knew a capable person when you saw one.

Thus, he lugs you all the way to the nearby main part of the city, full of humans -- all of whom give you a wide berth, eyes widening as they watch your thrashing and hear your aggressive bellowing.

Thankfully, he has just enough mora to cover a hybrid vet visit, and is willing to spend it on you. It's the right thing to do, y'know? Act of goodwill and all that to help some poor animal, probably gonna give him good karma and all that.

A quick examination, however, concludes you have no problems. Found in the wilderness, hm... Well, no tags means they can't track down an owner... Unless you want to keep this one, we'll take it to a shelter....

The decision only takes a matter of seconds. It's like one of those divine signs of fate! You're clearly meant to come with him. You have the horns, it's basically predestined, a sign from Celestia or something. It wouldn't be right to ignore that. You'll be like a mascot! Yeah, that'll work.

You still thrash quite a bit as you're carried off again, but he doesn't seem to notice. He's too busy talking about how you're going to be right at home and really get along with everyone or something like that. You only know a few human words, so you're pretty much lost on anything he's saying.

Even after arriving at what appears to be your new "home," you are not entirely certain why you'd been dragged away, and you're quite confused and afraid. After a few minutes of observation, though, you come to an important realization that you did not look closely enough until now. The one who has brought you here is another hybrid, not a human. He possesses horns, which means he is clearly one of your own kind, you were acquainted with plenty of bull hybrids in your herd days. You were mistaken to think of him as human.

However, he has human ears, and has no tail. What kind of bull has no tail? Maybe his was ripped off somehow. That doesn't explain the human ears though... maybe he's some genetic mishap and got the wrong ears. And how did a bull manage to master human speech? More importantly, why form one's herd out of humans? The others here have no horns, nor any sign of animal blood. That seems rather nonsensical. None of it make sense to you.

But as a herd animal (even if not a very peaceful one), you have an instinct to be around others of your own kind. This one and Ushi are likely the only ones of your own kind you'll find for quite some time, you have an urge to stay with them, and really, the thought of being out there alone again is a bit frightening. So even if they already get on your nerves quite a bit, you resolve to stay right here. It's not like you have anywhere else to go, and you quickly realize that they intend to give you free food, which is a major plus.

In fact, you get adjusted rather quickly. After your initial thrashing when you were carried here, you pose no more real resistance to the setup itself, which is taken as a sign that you have accepted your belonging here. Well, you do protest the cowbell that gets put around your neck on the second day of your stay, disliking the sound and weight, but it proves impossible to pull off with your mere pawing at it. Perhaps if you were a bit smarter and capable of using your thumbs in complex ways, you might be able to remove it, but unfortunately all you can think to do is tug on it, which proves futile, and thus you grow used to it. This way everyone can keep an eye on you, make sure you don't go wandering off.

The humans this bull lives with, however, are wary of you. It doesn't help that your initial reaction to them is to huff and jerk your head in an attempt to stab them.

But he doesn't get mad. You're just getting adjusted is all! That's actually your way of greeting, it's playful! You're not trying to hurt anybody, so he says. Still, after a couple of incidents leaving point-tip scars on the appendages of other members, you have the horns shaved and sanded down to dull ends (quite the ordeal, as it took essentially the entire gang to hold you down and complete the process). Though bitter about it for some time, you eventually accepted this, and gradually became less prone to attack in general.

You are now considered the gang co-mascot and group representative. Your role as representative is to... represent. Exist. You don't really have any responsibilities except to be present at major functions and sit there.

That being said, it is a vital function and nothing important can be done without your presence. You are consulted for important decisions (What do you think?, he asks, and when you grunt or flick your ears, see, she thinks it's a good idea!), and no important decision can be made without your supposed opinion (Hang on, we have to consult the representative...). It has been argued by some that this is not necessary (and perhaps that you aren't even aware of what's being said or what's going on in the first place), but after getting into said argument on a variety of occasions and losing to sheer stubbornness every single time, the other members have come to acknowledge the significance of your say in things.

You also get a vote in any major decisions. With your inability to form and limited understanding of human words, however, your vote is automatically determined to align with his vote, thus often swaying the vote in his favor (it does not help that,  as leader, he already gets two votes anyway...).

Much like your general "opinions," this has been protested by other members a couple of times, but it is argued that you deserve to have your opinion heard as a vital and irreplaceable gang member, and since you can't voice your opinion, the responsibility falls upon him to correctly interpret your gestures to the vote you're trying to communicate. Who else knows you well enough to interpret you? Exactly. You're uncertain of what it means when the humans talk back and forth a bunch and then turn to you as if expecting something, but as soon as you give any sort of sound or gesture, that seems to be satisfactory to continue, so you don't mind it.

You're given an outfit color-matching to your owner's, once again for the purpose of matching the gang's "vibes," whatever that may mean, and to be better recognizable as the token representative. Likewise, now, every couple of days, he paints your horns red so that you match, says something about it looking cool and another comment about the aforementioned matching of vibes. You have to be matching, since you're going to be going everywhere together and do everything together!

Well, he does have some necessary things to do that you can't come with him for. In those cases, the others can watch over you. But then again... they're all, you know, normal humans, and there's a chance you could slam them with those horns, make them lose their grip and run off...

Oh, Ushi would never run away. Why didn't he think about that until now? You two would probably get along really well too. You two are kind of the same thing, after all. He loops a rope between the two of you, ties your necks together with a few spare feet of leeway between. See? Just like you. You'll get along well.

You turn towards this... creature, huffing air out of your nostrils, making a low, threatening sound in your throat. Likewise, he makes the same gestures of aggression right back to you, slowly starts to dig a hoof into the ground. After a few moments, you both put your heads down, lunging forward, horns clacking against each other.

Aw, see, you're friends already! Glad that worked out. He'll only be gone a few hours, so just play nice.

Your animal brain is just short of the competence required to understand how to untie a knot, so all you can do is struggle against the tie, but the other creature proves very heavy and prevents you from moving any distance by sitting down flat on the ground, very clearly not intending to move any time soon.

You huff, you moo. You tussle with each other, clonking horns again. The humans that remain to supervise watch on with wide-eyed concern, mumbling to themselves as to whether or not they should intervene, but none of them want to take the risk. Even though they're now very dull, your horns will leave quite the bruise if hit with enough force.

You try your best, but he doesn't budge. In fact, seemingly growing a bit irritated with your disruptions, he gives you a solid headbutt to the side, sending you flopping over. You stay down. Defeated and humiliated and exhausted, you only make a sad sound, resolving to rest on the ground.

...But now that you're not fighting anymore, Ushi seems to calm down as well. Sort of waddles over your way, plops down onto the ground beside you. You're very bitter towards him at first, but quickly find that he is warm and squishy and makes a great companion for napping on the ground in the sun. You're still pressed together by the time your owner returns.

Aw. Look at you two, getting along so well you sleep curled up next to each other like that. This was a good idea.

The days get easier from there on. You still get roped to Ushi daily, you don't mind it so much. You two have fun -- still clonking heads and tussling around, but now it's friendly and playful, with much less force, and when you both get tired you eat and rest together. It becomes a regular routine. Your life is carefree and easy, and the only times you're in any distress were the occasions where your owner was in jail for several consecutive days, but even that never lasts too long.

You think you will stay here, indefinitely, now. You have no real reason to try to run off, you're well-fed and cared for, and all of these humans and the other hybrid alike have become familiar to you, admittedly you are starting to think you might care for them, just a little.

And to be honest, bovine long-term memory isn't that great. Soon you find that your memories of any other life you had before are very fuzzy, you're almost uncertain if they were real or a dream. Soon, they'll fade away for good, and this life here will be all you've ever known anyway.

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

Dottore - ratgirl

Agencies can't always ensure hybrids go to good people.

They try. They do background checks, similarly to how someone would adopt a kid. They want to be sure the hybrid isn't going to be abused, neglected, or otherwise mistreated, and that for hybrids requiring special care, that the person in question has the means and finances to properly do so. Granted, they're aware that many people use hybrids for... self-gratification purposes, and everyone knows why single adult males are by far the largest consumer demographic for purchasing them, but plenty of hybrid owners who get hybrids to be domestic partners are still good to them.

But some agencies are lower quality, more shady, and some are just desperate to adopt out a specific hybrid. And plenty of individuals have no real record, positive or negative, to speak of, so it's easier to just not make a fuss and assume they're decent and hand the hybrid over. And, most notably, shelters and agencies are often quite eager to get rid of individual species considered... less desirable.

That's not what they tell you, though. You're just... very special! Sure, you watch plenty of dogs and cats and rabbits come and go within days, while you've been here for months... but it just takes a certain kind of person to take care of rats. The really nice caretaker lady says that maybe they're just afraid that the injuries mean you're aggressive, but she's certain that if someone takes time to look more closely, they'll see you're very nice. Besides, they can kindly explain to anyone who asks that it's not your fault. Poor thing, you heard one of the workers say to another, attacked by some wild animal... You don't remember it very well. You woke up here all bandaged up, and they took care of you, so these are good people, you assume.

You miss the other half of your tail, though. You don't know much about medicine, you thought it would grow back... but when they took the bandages off, only a stumpy half remains. You suppose you look a bit lopsided too, being able to see yourself in the glass well enough to see that one of your ears are all shredded up, with a chunk missing on each. Maybe the visitors just get confused and don't know what you are, or something.

Maybe they just don't notice you, since you're a bit quiet. They'll just... move you even closer to the front, make sure people notice you. You try to sit at the front of your pen to make sure people see you.

People have negative associations just because of the word, too. They're okay with mice hybrids, fawn over how cute they are, but even though you look very similar, they sort of make a face at the word rat. The workers just tell you it takes very special people to appreciate very special hybrids, and you'll find that person eventually.

"Eventually" takes a long time, but it does finally come. The workers that come in to get you seem to be in a good mood, so it must be something good.

They say you're in luck. Someone came in here very specifically seeking a rat, of all things. They go through the standard process. Take you out front, get you to the person that requested it... which happens to be more than one person. All wearing weird masks. They look very scary. But if they want you, then they must be good people too.

The worker stammers out something about explaining the obvious missing parts of you, but one of them interrupts her. That's fine. We were just told to get a rat.

No hesitation. Whips out the mora -- a hundred mora, specifically, far less than they charge for other hybrids -- and doesn't even give them the chance to ask if there's anything else needed before reaching over, picking you up, shoving you into a crate, and taking you outside.

You're very confused, but you maintain a good attitude. You're just grateful for them. You ask a lot of questions, but they aren't very keen on answering you. Eventually you come to understand you were bought for someone else, that they're supposed to take you to, so you wait patiently... a several-day trip, all the way to this large building. Full of the same masked people.

The man is one of them, but he looks a bit different. You're a bit nervous at first that he might not be okay with you, but he looks you up and down and gives a quick acknowledgement to the ones that brought you here, so he must be content. He stoops down to get a better look at you in the crate and smiles... but it almost feels a bit... sinister. It sends a shiver down your spine. You tell yourself you'll have to get over that feeling, this person is a good person because why else would he bother to bring you here?

He says you're going to help with something very important. That you get to help him with research. It's very honorable to be doing this. A privilege. So many people would gladly volunteer for it, but you get to do it because you're special and perfect for it. Isn't that nice?

Such a serious honor and responsibility makes you feel nervous, but proud. You're not exactly sure what you did to be selected, you don't question exactly what it was that makes you so ideal for it. But he said you were special. That it has to be you. It makes you feel happy.

It's not a lie. Rats are very similar to people, genetically. And they're weak and at the perfect level of being intelligent enough to study reactions, while being too stupid to understand what's going on. Not to mention, they're cheap, they're too weak to be dangerous if they lash out, and they're not very bright socially either. That's why they make such good test subjects.

Besides, acquiring full humans for these sort of tests would require unwilling subjects, which is much harder to work with as they tend to be uncooperative, and you have to dispose of human subjects to prevent them from causing problems.

But your nature makes you very compliant, eager to please and unable to understand the weight of what's going on. He's almost surprised that a few nice words was all you needed to hear to be on board with it. He already had a whole second speech planned to convince you you had some deadly disease that needed to be cured to scare you into compliance, but it seems that won't be necessary.

At first, that's all you really do, and thus begins your new life. Each day, he comes into the lab where your crate is, opens it and takes you out. Does a routine check-up on various vitals, treats you in a variety of ways, and then leaves, and you're back in the crate again. Usually this process happens twice a day, but if he's particularly busy he may come only once. He doesn't say too much to you, although he is always muttering to himself about something or another, you usually can't hear much. Master seems to be a rather eccentric person, you sense some of the underlings aren't particularly fond of working under him, seem to be a bit intimidated... but he's never outright mean to you, so that means he's a good person, you believe.

You're very timid, given how new and unfamiliar it all is, so you don't want to annoy him... thus, you mostly keep quiet, speak when spoken to, which isn't very often. You comply with all the instructions, you swallow everything you're supposed to. You don't fight the injections either, even if your instinct is to pull away, instead only giving a tiny squeak. You do the best you can. You occasionally ask questions about his work, but the answers you get are short and dismissive, so you quickly stop asking.

...But in truth, you find yourself growing increasingly sad. Other than these treatments, you spend most of the time locked in the tiny crate, in an empty, quiet room. He doesn't really talk to you besides commands and questions on how you feel from various experimental treatments. There's a certain coldness you're treated with. Not an intentional, forceful coldness, but rather more like being ignored, like he simply forgets your existence outside of the moments he's directly engaging with you, doesn't think to do anything more with you. He treats you with dismissal as soon as you're done with treatment, and even with your limited perception, you sense he doesn't really view you as anything beyond an object to be worked with. You're still very happy to see him, and you desperately hope that each day will be one of the days you get to see him twice, but... it wears you down.

It makes you question why he has you at all. It's not done with cruel intent, rather just lack of even crossing his mind, so you aren't too hurt, but... it does make you feel bad. Are you doing something wrong? You've seen plenty of hybrids that have masters that really love them, so why not you?

But, you suppose, they were different sorts of creatures. Maybe that's it. Maybe your kind just isn't supposed to receive that same kind of affection. The thought makes you feel sad.

Within a few months, you find that you stop feeling hungry. You stop feeling jittery when you're in the crate, and instead you often feel very tired. All you really want to do is sleep.

And you do. Your life becomes even emptier. You lay there and blink as you stare at the wall. You respond to questions with head motions rather than words. The medicines have less effect than ever, you feel perpetually numb.

This does not go unnoticed. At first, he thinks maybe something he gave you did it, writes it down as a potential effect of this or that, and carries on as usual. Must cause drowsiness or something.

Until, on one occasion, he's coming to bring you food as usual (you tell yourself you should be very grateful, he never forgets and always comes at the same time!), but notices that there's no need. Your food from last night is untouched. And while you used to perk up when he'd enter the room, he's noticed the past few days you just lay there, not even raising your head. Nothing you've been given recently should cause this behavior.

He tilts his head, looks at you with narrowed eyes. Casts a glance to your uneaten food in your bowl, your lethargic slouch. Didn't take this sort of depression into account. Sometimes it's hard to remember subjects are living beings and all that.

Which isn't a problem. It won't affect the research quality. You'll live, you'll eat eventually and as long as you're living and breathing, you continue to have some use. He doesn't say anything, just turns and heads back to the door.

And then pauses. Casts another glance back at you, laying all curled up on your side. You hear the pause in footsteps, feel the gaze on you, and you tilt your eyes up out of curiosity just enough to see, but your eyes dart away as you make eye contact. He's kind of scary to look in the eye like that. You go back to staring blankly at the floor, unmoving.

...It really doesn't matter, and he should have no qualms with just walking out the door, but...

...

You hear the footsteps come back in your direction. The sound of the crate unlocking and swinging open again. But this time, hands wrap under your armpits and pull you out.

You're a bit confused. It's not time for your daily treatment. You make a startled little sound as you're pulled out of the crate and up onto your feet.

He tells you you need to get some more sunlight and movement, so... for the time being, come with him and just don't cause a distraction. There's very important matters to be dealt with, so, stay very close and don't wander off either. And don't speak to anyone else.

You are overjoyed at the opportunity, letting out a particularly ear-piercing little squeak of excitement (he tenses up at the ringing in his ear, but does't bother to say anything). You've never been outside the lab since the day you came here. You do your best to stay still and quiet, trailing behind him as he goes about various tasks, talks to various people. He's a lot more animated and theatrical when talking to people, whereas he's usually more quiet and dismissive of conversation when focused on a task such as when he's dealing with you. It's sort of a new side to him... and is admittedly a bit scary.

He even asks you for some things, asks you to hand him this or that, and you happily oblige, the act making you feel very useful. Well, except you can't get things out of labeled containers, as you are quite illiterate, but otherwise you give it your all. Eventually, he has someone go through the various materials and tape colored strips of paper to the jars, so that you can now help fetch them when needed. In truth, getting you to get things often takes more time than if he were to just get them himself, but it gives you something to do, and it makes you happy.

You still have daily treatment, though. The medicines make you feel woozy and tired. You don't like the needles, you squeak when they go into your skin. You dread the one day every two weeks when you have to have blood taken out. It always makes you feel so tired, you shiver so much, some times you pass out for a while. But if it's necessary, you have no choice but to endure. Much to your appreciation, rather than just the tasteless processed feed, he starts to spend money on some seeds and other food to give you handfuls of as reward for your efforts.

Since he has to know if it's working, he has to ask questions. How does it feel?

Your answers are usually not positive. Tired. Dizzy. My stomach hurts. My head hurts. It burns.

But you can do it. As long as you are certain and reassured of one thing.

Did I do good?

As long as he says yes, you're content.

...At night, you go back in the crate. You can't move around much, can't stand and can only barely turn around, but there's plenty to ensure you're all set -- a rodent drip water bottle latched to the side for you to latch your mouth onto and drink from if needed. A thick layer of blankets. A few durable wooden blocks for you to chew on. You're grateful for the kind consideration. At the shelter, you would be left in the cold concrete pen with none of those things all night, and it made you sad oftentimes.  You feel more awake at night, so it's frustrating to be kept in such a tiny space during your most active hours, but you understand. You pass the time by chewing on your blocks.

You endure it, for his sake. You want to help. You want to be good and get the rewards and pats, you don't want to disappoint.

But a day does come that you get pushed over the edge. Lots of needles. The first one makes your stomach feel queasy. The second one makes your head hurt. You feel awful. It gets worse and worse as you swallow this or that, to test how they work together. Something gets attached to your head that feels heavy and just hurts worse. You're about to get another jab, but you can't handle anymore. You squeak.

No more...

You shiver and sniffle. You always try very hard to be good and strong and brave and endure it all, but it's become too much. Tears trail down your face, you shoulders wrack with tiny sobs.

There's a long pause. But you hear the materials clack as they're set back down.

Alright. It can wait.

He comes over to where you are, sits down for a moment, presses a hand to your forehead. Well, you're not sweating, which would be an indicator of a potential reaction that would require emergency intervention, so you'll just have to ride this one out and--

You take the opportunity of him sitting down on the table to shuffle over. You rest your head down on his thigh. You feel all your muscles go lax. You're very tired. He goes quiet when you set your head down.

All his stuff is over there, but even after finishing whatever he was writing down, he doesn't move. After some time passes, you feel fingers run through your scalp, over and over in a soft, gentle motion. You feel yourself drift off to sleep.

And when you wake up... he's still perfectly still. Seems rather bored, he's drumming his fingers against his thigh, but hasn't budged. When you stir, he flickers his gaze down to you. You've been asleep an hour now, he says. It should be over now, yes?

You squeak. You hate to think he sat still just to not wake you up, you feel guilty... but for some reason, something about that fact also feels good. You bolt upright, apologizing, saying he could have woken you up...

He pauses for a moment. It's almost as if your words catch him off-guard, as if that possibility is, for whatever reason, something that didn't even cross his mind. A few seconds pass. But then he just shrugs, muttering something.

It doesn't end, but you do feel that sometimes you're given less tests per day. A lot of it is being given a singular treatment of some kind before being tested in some way. When you asked, he says that yes, it's very helpful, that you've contributed a lot. You feel proud for that much. You carry your head a bit higher whenever you walk around with him during the day.

Granted, you have some inconveniences. You sort of... Detract from his image. He tends to have a bit of a dramatic flair to whatever he does, and enjoys getting reactions out of people, but it's a bit difficult for subordinates to take the theatrical monologuing very seriously when you're sitting there behind him with a blank expression, gnawing on whatever raw vegetable you've been most recently given to placate you for a few hours, occasional squeak and all.

Some of them do question why he allows for what seems so unnecessary, but people generally know better than to question him, and have generally accepted that he's just like that, with "just like that" meaning "weird," and it's accepted that that's not changing anytime soon and that it's not supposed to make any sense to them.

Also, the underlings are allowed to pet you, for a few seconds each, otherwise they're shooed away and told they're overstimulating you, and gods forbid anyone interfere with research quality. Most of them do take the opportunity though, you're just too cute to resist giving you headpats.

Oh, but you do have a tendency to be absent-minded with a particular short rodent attention span, so soon a hybrid harness and leash is acquired for you (think of how they make those child harnesses and leashes? Same idea). It's almost comical, to the various onlookers, to see you two come strolling through the building. While he has that sort of ominous, heavy presence about him, it's quite amusingly contrasted by you pattering away walking on the tile floors next to him, attached by a leash in his hand he pulls you around with. The lower ranks all admittedly find it hilarious though, snicker a bit when you two walk by.

You forget exactly when you stopped sleeping in the crate. He says it's not good for your joints, and you're fairly certain he said he'd get you a larger crate eventually, and you could sleep in his bed in the meantime, but so far the larger crate hasn't come yet. The first night you chew a hole through his sleeve in your sleep, though, so you do have to be given blocks to chew on as you sleep. You're more well-rested this way, and it makes you happier, healthier.

That's what he thinks to himself. It's producing more clear-cut results, having a healthy specimen and all... so it's okay if he cares a bit for you in general. It's rather inconvenient, but might as well roll with it now. Prolonged contact and interaction will cause some variants of attachment in anyone. He just has to ensure to watch over you well, and there will be no concerns as to whether or not any underlying attachment will cause problems.

Oh, and on that note, aside from now-rare occasions where you're locked in your crate while he takes care of things you can't be there for, he ensures you never leave his sight. Can't have you roaming the facility halls... don't want to risk that bastard's bear getting ahold of you... would not be good.

[typewriter83]

i don't really know how to start this. So, I follow you since.. idk, always, and I've seen that before you always made sure to keep your content out of tumblr: you never talked about it, nobody ever talked about it and I remember you thought that was the right decision/course for things. Then, Idk who started it first, but now you're interacting way more with your readers, they are sending stuff (I was one of them, I like talking to you), but you received two unhappy asks after that (and I'm not even mentioing what things that maybe someone said to you privately). I'm feeling guilty :( I know that they sre the ones that should stop minding other's business but I can't help but think that somehow I and other annons made that happen somehow, so like, sorry I guess

Hello darling cub 😘

First off, there’s discourse in the TLOU fandom, which I read other stories in other ships, and I interact with some of those writers - they are having their work stolen; literally copied and pasted onto someone else’s blog and passed off as someone else’s writing. That is what has me upset - I like some of these other writers, I interact with them differently than I interact with the Joellie readers, but Mama Bear is still protective and still vocal against censorship and plagiarism.

When I came over to Tumblr it was simply to see if I could. There were a lot of Joellie readers/writers here up until 2023, and those of us that have been around long enough know what happened a year ago. I came over here to talk about writing, TLOU, and just find some new stuff to read. Slowly I started making little comments about our forbidden ship, and slowly readers started sending anons and slowly I started answering and interacting.

It’s no secret that I have a family, a young child that I have to protect with my anonymity. That being said, I chose to start interacting with y’all because I like y’all! I wish more people would/could come over here to interact - ok that’s not true, this place is kind of toxic - but I wish we could find a way to find more of us so our corner of the fandom could grow.

I know there’s a risk - and no, I have not received private hate, harassment or anything untoward - but if things got ugly - like they did last year - I would likely stop posting here, lock my Twitter account and reconsider what I’m doing.

There’s no reason for you to feel any kind of guilt for sending anon asks about my stories, my WIPs or my feral love for pixel man (and his gorgeous TV counterpart) 🤭 keep sending the asks - if I’m uncomfortable answering, I will let y’all know. But let’s keep having this conversation, let’s keep interacting in the ways we feel comfortable!

Please don’t stop sending asks, cub

🫶🏻

[rottmntquotes]

More Feral AU "Fun" Facts Because Angst Helps Me Cope

- The boys do not receive their Canon names, instead receive names based on their appearance. (Raph: Spike, Leo: Stripes, Donnie: Spine, Mikey: Little One)

- Draxum will occasionally refuse to acknowledge the turtles if he feels they have disappointed him, going as far as denying them food and water.

- The turtles have the slightest bit of Draxum's DNA, making them more prone to unhinged aggression.

- The Feral Turtles are much larger and bulkier than their Canon counterparts (standing on their back legs), and will continue to grow until adulthood. (Raph: 8'4 and 350 pounds, Leo: 7'4 and 220 lbs, Donnie: 7'5 and 225 lbs, Mikey: 6'8 and 203 lbs).

- The Feral Turtles were made to be beasts, not just weapons of war; They are expected to be okay with attacking anyone (especially those with opposing views to Draxum, innocent or not).

- Big Mama shows plentiful affection to the turtles, which is why Feral Raph adores her and Feral Leo dislikes her.

- Fights between Feral Raph and Feral Leo (Spike and Stripes) usually end in broken bones and/or cracked shells (The loser is locked in a cage and left alone until they heal).

- Feral Leo adores Draxum and will randomly slay random bystanders in hopes of approval.

- Big Mama speaks in a normal and serious tone (no made up words or playful banter) when Draxum goes too far in his scoldings and punishments.

- Feral Mikey tends to spend time alone to stay known as the "Good One".

- Feral Donnie picks at his scales when stressed (which is quite often).

In short, the kids are not okay

Questions from the class?

[dimorphodon-x]

I hope I'm not too late to join the OC reaction game. >///< But since I used my main OC, Swiftwire, the last time, I felt it was time to introduce her son. I've been meaning to flesh him out more, so this will really help me out! Also, you kinda inspired his creation, so I hope you'll consider this my thanks for you unintentionally helping me out. ^w^ So, for either Solclave (my comfort character, btw ¬3¬') or Starhawk, or both if you feel like it... How would they feel meeting Swiftwire's and Knockout's adopted son, Conduit?

He's a very short, very young, and very energetic yellow and black Cybertronian Seeker who's highly optimistic, playful, overly eager to help, loves to learn about medicine in order to become a doctor when he's older, and generally a very polite and kind early-teenaged mech... and he will call Hawk or Solclave "Uncle" or "Mister" and he will try to befriend them and ramble on about his newest discovery (and possibly ask innocent but awkward questions about stuff he doesn't understand), or immediately help them if he stumbles upon them at their first meeting... despite the countless "stranger danger" lessons he's received from his overprotective parents.

Conduit does have a rather sad past, though, which involves his early childhood memories consisting entirely of his days as an experiment to a cruel scientist, the result of which being his namesake... the four rods on a panel embedded in his back between his wings, crafted into his body to allow him to control sky-based elements (mainly lightning, heat and ice), but using them will sometimes drain him to the brink of exhaustion or cause severe pain in his arms and back if he overuses his ability. When he escaped, he lived for so long out in the barren wastelands of Cybertron that he became a feral child, fighting only with his fangs and self-inflicting ability for fuel and territory for the remainder of his life, until Swift found him and helped him regain his true self in safety and shelter, bringing with it his desire to help others.

In short, Conduit is a precious boi and he will talk your ear off, but despite his dark past and ALL the trauma in his tiny body, he is still friend shaped and loves to help.

I'm really sorry about how long this became, but take your time answering this! I love your work, and I hope you have a good timezone!! ^3^

Solclave-

Sol is patient but (unlike his birdformers counterpart) he is awkward with kids. Apart from them being a pretty rare sight for him, he isn’t entirely sure how to handle them aside from gently, so he’s not much of a playmate. He’s also not sure how to feel about nicknames either, but doesn’t voice it.

He bluntly and simply answers questions and listens to Conduit talk without any problem. Listening is easier for him anyway.

He’d get a little extra protective if he learned his history tho.

“That’s a question you should ask your parents…”

Starhawk-

Starhawk would get along much better than Sol tbh. He has the energy to play games and all that fun stuff. He’d be cool with the ‘uncle’ nickname but less so with ‘mister’. Makes him feel old lol.

While listening to Conduit talk about stuff, he’d try to be more engaged as he listens, and while he can’t answer many questions, he’d try his best.

Conduit’s past would be pretty upsetting for him to learn about. He’s just a kid and already went through some awful stuff. That’s just not right…

“He’s still a kid and already he went through all that?”

[grievouslyxorvia]

A Hopeful Eternity (Part One) (no triggers, sfw, f l u f f)

“This is… really??” Ashera asked in disbelief, staring down at the perfect details of a model of the Epang Palace from Qin Shi Huang’s unique Lostbelt. The Emperor beamed at them.

“Indeed! An anatomically correct, perfect scale model of Our Heavenly Vessel, and a gift to you, Our most loyal retainer. We wished for… well. It does not matter what We wished for. Make of Our gift what you will,” they said, still smiling. Ash smiled back at them, reaching for their hand.

“No, I want to hear what you wished for when making it! Though before you worry, I already love and adore it. Maybe even almost as much as I love and adore you,” they winked mischievously. Qin’s warm laugh echoed softly in the room.

“Then We know it shall be cherished indeed. We received the idea from listening to Our counterpart from Our timeline- the part of Us that still resides in the real version of this vessel-“

“Wait. You can… hear them?” Ashera interjected, confused.

“Yes? Ah… worry not. We are merely monitoring the peaceful end of Our original timeline. We have no machinations of betrayal or sabotage of your own.” The Emperor waved their hand, looking slightly embarrassed.

“No, that’s not… what I’m thinking about…” Ashera trailed off, the gears in their head beginning to turn. “You have a connection to them?”

“...yes?”

“As in, a strong connection?” they asked urgently.

“We are both parts of one soul, so yes, We would say the connection is quite strong. We are two parts of one living being.” Qin responded, now also confused. “Why do you ask?”

Time seemed to stop, as the light of possibility dawned on Ashera’s tiny, impossible wish. The grails of the singularities. The Trees of Fantasy, and their pseudo holy grail properties. This… might just work.

“Ashera? You have not drawn breath in almost a minute… are you quite well?”

They gasped sharply, suddenly aware of their lack of air.

“Yes, just… I just realised something. MAYBE,” they said, the flame of hope kindled in their heart. Qin Shi Huang tilted their head, gazing at their Master in concern.

“We can assure you, Our timeline is once again being pruned from-“

“What if it didn’t have to be?” Ashera interrupted, heart pounding. “What if… what if it was a normal parallel, alternative world? Just another branch on the tree of Human History?”

The Emperor stared at their fierce expression for a moment, contemplating. “In theory… if it were indeed a harmless parallel world… We see no reason for it to intersect with the main timeline of Humanity. But is that not impossible now?”

Ashera grinned, a feral glint in their eye.

“Maybe it’s not.”

“Doing anything to support Our timeline would go against every rule Chaldea has set down,” the Emperor protested. “We cannot-“

“You can’t,” Ashera interrupted again, “but what if I could. Consequences be damned!” They stated louder, cutting off further argument. “This is for both of us. Make no mistake, this is something I have to do. I NEED to do,” Ashera turned to their bed, kneeling to reach underneath and fetch their small case of belongings. “When Solomon helped me to save the world the first time, I had to fight Goetia face to face. Human to human, much like I did with you. Solomon’s last wish was for all of humanity to make their choices and grow in freedom. Goetia… though we were born in similar ways, he couldn’t yet understand the wishes that humanity holds that can change the future. So he would never have truly been able to use this,” they said, turning to face their trusted partner- a Greater Grail glowing faintly in their hands.

They watched as Qin realised the conclusion that was reached, the same light of hope dawning in their eyes.

“You would use this great power on Us? After it was given freely to you, to secure your future?”

“This IS securing my future,” Ashera replied, sighing. “I didn’t tell you, because I decided it didn’t matter… but after the Epic of Remnant pseudosingularities, before the Bleaching, the Mages Association wanted to kill me for what I knew.”

The Emperor gasped softly, eyes narrowing in fury.

“They would KILL you, for saving their world?”

“Yes, but obviously that’s not really an issue now. The real issue is what happens if we restore humanity again, and reverse the Bleaching? I’m pretty certain they’ll reach the same conclusion again, and even faster this time. But if I could peacefully escape to a parallel world…”

“...then you would not only be safe, but your future with Us would be…”

“Secured, yes. But only if you wanted it!” Ash added hastily, blushing. “I know you offered me the immortality elixir once, and invited me to live with you forever… but if you changed your mind, that’s fine-“

“This is perfect! Our greatest conundrum, solved! Of course, of COURSE We still wish for you to remain at Our side!” They gently took the Grail from Ashera’s hands and set it aside to pull them into a tight embrace.

“And here We were worried you intended some self sacrificial nonsense again. We are glad to see you have taken yourself into consideration this time! We would gladly do this for you. But We are not so foolish as to assume you have an actual plan yet, no?” They loosened their hold slightly to smile down at Ashera.

“I have the bare bones of a plan and the overwhelming willpower to force success! I’m sure I can do this,” they stated confidently, eyes steely with wild resolve. “Now, let's go find Yu Mei-Ren and Xiang Yu…”

[ladyfl4me]

Hi please yell about boyd and stern in TCOS and TMWCIFTC :D!

Anon, THANK YOU for enabling me, you have my fucking life in your hands

I’ll preface all of this by saying that everything in this post is related to my long-form Amnesty works, The Moth who Came In from the Cold and The Children of Sylvain. If you haven’t read those, then you’ll be pretty damn confused, so I guess now is as good of a time to plug them - and the series - as any. A heads up: I started it back in 2018, and everything in TCOS is just… very VERY loosely associated with Amnesty canon at this point. Same root premise, same characters, but back in 2018 even I couldn’t predict where arcs 4 and 5 ended up going. TMWCIFTC was written as the logical progression, in my head, of an alternate arc 4, and everything that happened in TCOS is based off of that progression. It’s got almost no connection to the actual canon at this point. I’ll be recapping some of the more important plot points for context, though.

Here’s hoping the read-more works. This was 7 pages long in the google doc I prepared this in, so I apologize in advance to everyone on my dash if this got fucked up. Spoilers for TMWCIFTC ahead, as well as general vague spoilers for Amnesty.

So everything’s coming up roses. Fantastic. Let’s start with the biggest thing: how the characters of Agent Stern and Boyd Mosche have changed from canon to this AU.

Boyd’s Changes:

We’ll start with Boyd, because this motherfucker is UNRECOGNIZABLE from canon. On god, that is all Griffin’s fault. Pretty much all of Boyd’s character was concentrated in arc 4 of Amnesty, and honestly? He was a fantastic character there. Loved him as a counterpart to Ned. He gave off an air of “the ends justify the means” in almost everything he did - especially how he was willing to do anything, including blackmail Ned to hell and back, to get back to England - which I’ve grafted into my version of him. The angst-loving part of my brain seized on the tragic possibilities of his relationship with Ned and was bumping “No Children” by the Mountain Goats every time they interacted. Great stuff, interesting complexity, was genuinely surprised when he kicked it.

All that happened after I introduced him as a character in TMWCIFTC. My version of him retains the smooth-talking Britishness of him, with the aforementioned “ends justify the means” logic for everything; I’d probably sort him as a chaotic neutral, with basically all of his points in wisdom, charisma and strength with very few in intelligence. I tried to work with that for the start. We knew nothing about Boyd at the time I was writing TMWCIFTC, so my brain wanted to fill in that blank for jokes and giggles and haha funny’s and was like, “Yo what if Boyd was a Sylph this entire time? Wouldn’t that be fucking hilarious?” 

And that’s what I did. What happened to make this version of Boyd was a bit of a random “perfect storm” of influences and choices, which really only got sharpened because of my one-shot The Devil Went Down To Georgia. That one’s the main source of all Boyd lore, even though I barely reference it these days because he’s gone so far off the rails it’s a miracle I can keep him straight. 

I’ve talked about The Devil Went Down To Georgia a lot in relation to Boyd on here. TL;DR, I decided to make him two things: a violinist and a Sylph/cryptid, specifically the Jersey Devil. Yes, he is still British. I chalk it up lore-wise to a few things: the original Jersey Devil is more of a distant relative, Boyd crossed over from Sylvain and ended up in Britain sometime after that, and just willingly chose to keep up the British persona Bastard. I don’t think about it too much. He’s been a criminal from the very beginning; he’d been in prison on Sylvain, went through some shit there that made him steal a crystal and book it, and he continued to do crime on Earth to survive.

The violin thing is mostly me desperately wanting a character to have that background, because I played for seven goddamn years and want to put that knowledge and catharsis somewhere. Boyd probably either picked up a Sylvan instrument that was similar, or learned it in the early 20th century when he came to Earth, and just held onto it. He held onto the skills and got good - good enough that he could have gone professional, and tried in 2007, but that didn’t go super well, as anyone who’s read TMWCIFTC can attest. 

In terms of the type of cryptid he is, I’ve made the Jersey Devils a subspecies on Sylvain that takes cervids (deer, moose, etc.) or bovines (goats, antelopes, cows, etc.), as well as canines/felines of any shape and size, puts them into a gashapon machine with pterodactyl-style wings, awful teeth, and a snake’s tail, and calls it a day. You can get a tiny Jersey Devil that’s a combo of a tiny cat and a dik-dik; you can get a jacked nine-foot-tall terrifying amalgam of a lion and a moose, with a fucked-up mouth of multiple rows of teeth and huge claws.

That last one is Boyd. Don’t call me a monsterfucker for this, I have no defense.

So where does that leave him in relation to the Lodge? Back in 2018, before I started developing the lore that factors into TCOS about Sylph communities outside the Lodge (namely the Manhattan Sylphs that Leo worked with when he was a Chosen One), I figured that it’d be funny if every single cryptid kinda just… knew each other, or hung out near the Lodge. As you know if you’ve read TMWCIFTC, he got into some trouble in 1967, which Barclay, Indrid and Mama “bailed him out of.”

Once they found out he was a fellow Sylvan, though, it became less about “report this guy to the authorities” and more about “we have to make sure we keep an eye on this guy so he doesn’t get himself, or other Sylphs, in trouble” thing. He basically became Mama’s mostly-socialized half-feral cat, slinking through the halls of Amnesty Lodge, eating random food, falling asleep wherever, sitting in rooms where people are doing interesting things and just watching them. And everyone... kind of likes him. Sure, he doesn’t have a sleep schedule, and they have to get soundproof panels installed in his room at the Lodge because he’ll stress-practice violin at 3 in the morning, and he keeps shoplifting stuff from local stores to give to people like a cat bringing back dead mice. But he’s a good man. And he’s getting better every day.

Then he got got by the Ashminder in ‘98. He bolted, completely forgot everything about the Lodge but had the address of a former Lodge resident on his body after his memory was wiped, found a still-alive but memory-wiped fellow Lodge dweller, and fled to that address. Boyd lived there for years, trying to clean up his act and try to anchor himself a bit. Then in 2007, something on his path went wrong, and the stress break he went through after that made him run from that place. That’s when he met Ned, and they had a few years together before Boyd ended up in jail.

Then, once they killed the Ashminder and the memories it had eaten came back, Voidfish-style, Boyd remembered everything: the people who’d taken care of him, the friends he’d made, the love he’d found, the time and effort he’d put into getting better, the rewards he’d reaped because of it. He remembered fighting monsters and defending them. He got hit with it all at once, and missed them. His parole date was coming up; he could bide his time until he was released, and run down there.

But then, at the start of TCOS, Something Happens that makes all Sylvan disguises and spells shit the fucking bed; his disguise spell, which has been hiding a nine foot-tall jacked demon out of hell, flickers, and the invisibility spell that had been put on his disguise item to hide it failed. Boyd knew he was fucked if the jail folks found out he was a Sylph, so he decided to fucking Kool-aid Man out of there, becoming a wanted man in the entire state of West Virginia and getting a bit roughed up in the process.

But hey. Whatever it takes to get home, right? 

Stern’s Changes:

Stern’s changed too, though, and here’s how. It was relatively simple to tweak him, because so much of him was a blank slate to begin with. First: that name. Garfield Kent Stern is his full name: Garfield for the cat/Deals Warlock, Kent after Kent Mansley, the irritating dipshit FBI agent antagonist from the classic animated movie The Iron Giant. Poor bastard. He started as a walking meme who I was going to kill off; I came up with that name long before we got his real name in canon, and didn’t want to retcon it out. 

I’m a sucker for secret connections and familial ties, too, and back in 2018 the headcanon gashapon gave me “what if Stern was a cousin of Duck’s, but there was family drama that made their parts of the family split when they were kids, so now 30 years later they don’t remember each other?” 

And that’s exactly what I did. Gary is Duck’s first cousin on Duck’s mom’s side; their mothers are sisters. Gary’s uncle Arnie was a Secret Service agent who tangled with an Indrid trying to stop the Kennedy Assassination once, and he keeps telling that story at Christmas, much to everyone’s chagrin. Gary remembered those stories, and even received Indrid’s old disguise glasses - knocked off his face during his uncle Arnie’s chase - and carried them with him for a long time.

He didn’t start off as a baby cop, though; he was more interested in hitting the books, finding out the logic and doing the research to figure things out. I have him become a history major, getting a PhD with a few bits and bobs here and there that I haven’t worked out yet. Whatever the case, he spent a LONG time in academia, from undergrad starting in 1996 to graduation in about 2005. 

Things weren’t as peachy as he thought they’d be, though. Gary wrote and published his thesis, like a good little PhD candidate, but someone was watching him. In his thesis, he’d been trying to cobble together various cryptid-related legends across the word and making connections between them, among other things. He’d managed to link up and explain something that Unexplained Phenomena had been trying to figure out themselves. They immediately intercepted his thesis, kept it from being disseminated anywhere else, erased all copies of it after graduation, and reached out to Gary independently to bring him on.

Make no mistake: he went willingly. Despite the whole thesis coverup, Agent Gary Stern wasn’t coerced into being a government stooge, and he wasn’t blackmailed - he was given an offer to work with the cryptid cops, and he enthusiastically took it. Government benefits were decent, he’d heard; post-grad options were looking slim, especially going into the recession. In his mind, there was a bit of allure to it all, too. A secret government organization looking into suspicious and possibly supernatural things all over the nation? Fantastic. More opportunities to do research. He was in. Gary accepted their offer and started basic FBI training in 2007 - the same year Boyd had that mental break and went AWOL, returning to his life of crime and meeting Ned.

Biggest mistake he’d ever made. But then again, if he didn’t take them up on that, he wouldn’t be here, would he?

So he joins UP, goes up the ranks. They had him researching and charting the Bigfoot case for a while, and he was the only one who was willing to work on it at all because… well, Bigfoot sightings weren’t as sophisticated as some of the other projects that were out there for UP. (See: Area 51. We don’t talk about Area 51. Nobody talks about Area 51. Definitely nothing shady and unethical going on in there, no experiments on anyone or anything, no sir.) 

Gary’s diligent, though, and doesn’t like to back down from a challenge. That’s all hunting Bigfoot was: a challenge. No personal stake, no empathy. It was a job to get done, even though an entire person’s life was at stake.

And he got so caught up in this challenge that, when he went to Kepler, he EASILY got attacked by the Ashminder and destroyed within an inch of his life. He got the very memory of his job and intent in Kepler torn out of his head; once the Ashminder died, and those memories came back, they didn’t feel like his anymore, or like they’d been part of his life plan to begin with. Overcome with confusion and guilt, he decided to clean up his act and try to work against the FBI, with Mama’s blessing. 

His goal? Quit the FBI, get them off the Lodge’s back, and then see what happens next. Maybe he’d go back to academia, or teach, or something - just get as far away from the FBI as possible, as far away as he can be from hurting people. But he’s got to bide his time, because if he bolts now, they’re going to get suspicious and put the Lodge in even more danger. And that’s where he is now.

So why have they changed?

Simple answer? I don’t want to rewrite them to fit with canon. I just don’t. I don’t want to make Boyd human; I don’t want to change Gary’s name to Joseph and make him a Bigfoot groupie. I don’t want to rewrite hundreds of thousands of words of work to fit last-minute decisions made in the end times of Amnesty’s canon. My fic has diverged so much from canon that the canon versions of the characters don’t belong here anymore. Besides, Stern was such a background character in arcs 3 and 4 that he barely mattered, making his reappearance in arc 5 a bit of a clumsy follow-through, and Boyd was a one-act wonder. A little expansion couldn’t hurt. Making Gary something other than a direct antagonist made the narrative load a little easier, too, at least on my end. I hate giving a cop screen time, but it’s easier to justify his existence by rewriting his backstory and making him slog through the hell of a redemption arc. He’s had that coming. 

This leads us to TCOS, though, where the arcs of our player characters turn a bit more towards the plot, as opposed to the emotional fulfillment they got in TMWCIFTC. Characters like Gary, Mama, Boyd, and Alexandra take center stage for emotional and backstory development, while the original player characters take a temporary backseat. Alexandra’s a key linchpin of the story as a whole, both emotionally and narratively; Mama gets lore expansions and has personal things to settle; and Gary and Boyd are… here. So:

How do these two work with each other in TCOS?

It’s great. It’s fantastic. These two are my favorite to write in TCOS because their conflict is just so fucking FUN. On the one hand, you have an almost-ex-FBI agent who’s been taken in by the Lodge, is related to a Pine Guard member, is trying to keep his coworkers off the Lodge’s back as sneakily as possible without drawing suspicion, and is desperate not to screw up this second chance he doesn’t think he deserves. On the other hand, you have an ex-con who got a second chance from the Lodge, sees them as his last best option to be safe as long as nobody reports them, and wants to keep them safe out of a sense of familial obligation he’s reluctant to admit to, even to himself.

That’s two people with questionable morals, with a semi-familial attachment to a place that gave them second chances, each seeing the actions of the other as a threat to their - and everyone else’s - safety. Claws come out almost immediately.

At the start, Boyd and Gary go together like apple juice and toothpaste. Boyd sees a narc who’s threatening the one safe place he has left; Gary sees an impulsive, selfish threat, a domino that - if it falls - threatens, you guessed it, the one safe place he (and other people, sure) has left. Boyd breaking out of jail means the entire state of West Virginia, and probably the whole East Coast, is on high alert looking for him, and if that attention comes anywhere near the Lodge? They’re fucked.

Neither of them believe that the other is capable of change or anything but selfish, malicious harm. Boyd has more of an argument than Gary because Gary is still actively reporting things to the FBI, but in Gary’s defense, the moment that he stops reporting anything to them, they’re going to suspect things and might end up sending more people to the Lodge. The Pine Guard can’t afford that, so Gary has to play by the rules until he’s in a position where he can quit. I’ll pull a specific argument they have from TCOS that I feel really exemplifies this:

"I don't want you to get caught."

Boyd scoffed. "Something tells me you're not worried about me."

"I'm not."

"Well, thanks."

"I'm worried," Gary went on, "about someone seeing you, and connecting you to the Lodge. You just used the hot springs as your personal landing strip, in broad daylight. We're on the upper half of the mountain. And I don't know how big your Sylvan form is, but -"

Boyd grinned. It looked more like a snarl. "Oh, plenty big enough," he said.

Gary ignored that. "Big enough for someone to see you from down the mountain?" he challenged. Boyd's lip curled, and he looked away. "Yeah, that's what I thought. I'm just thinking ahead. What if someone came beating down our door looking for you? What if it was a cryptid hunter? What if it was the cops?”

"Yes, yes, fine, alright," Boyd snapped. He threw his hands up. His eyes were hard and cold. "It'd put us in danger. I get it. But you're still here. I think the damage is already done."

A knot of cold rage formed in Gary's stomach. "I'm trying to keep this place safe, Mr. Mosche," he spat. "I've got a responsibility to keep."

Boyd scoffed. "Oh, you have a responsibility? To Amnesty Lodge? That's fucking rich."

"You've got one, too! It’s about time you started keeping it!"

They’re both very, very set in their ways and their ideologies, and they take a long time to get to middle ground. 

One of my friends described it as middle child syndrome in overdrive. Gary thinks Boyd’s the Lodge golden child, come to replace him in the Lodge inner circle. Boyd thinks Gary’s the Lodge’s new redemption-arc fixer-upper, come to replace him. And both of them feel thrown off by that, because they both thought that the Lodge was accepting them completely into the inner circle. It’s unfamiliar, it’s confusing, and when the Lodge as a whole regards them both with suspicion/unease (Gary) and polite detachment due to the passage of time (Boyd), it makes them both feel on the outside.

And when you’re in the same shitty canoe, you’ve gotta row it or sink. So that’s exactly what they do. 

Ultimately, they get faced down with bigger and worse foes that snap them out of their spat, because their common interest is “keeping the Lodge safe” and uniting will help them get there. When they do start to have each other’s backs, though, that’s when they reluctantly start to get to know each other. Gary feels like something’s off about Boyd and eventually suspects - thanks to some comments from Haynes and some digging of his own - that Boyd had something to do with the fire that burned down Aubrey’s house, but it remains to be seen what he’ll do with that information. (The Gary of November 2018 would have turned Boyd in to the FBI. The Gary of almost six months later, though… a different story. It’ll be interesting.)

The kicker is, they’re both really similar, at the heart of it. Both of them were the Lodge’s fix-em-up pet projects, brought into the fold in an emergency and protected/cared for as long as they swore to clean up their act. They see each other and feel a bit out-of-place, though - something contributed to by the way the Lodge treats them.

Gary’s still held at a distance by many, despite being Duck’s cousin and a mostly-valuable member of the team, because the stench of the FBI is still on him - how he dresses, how he walks and talks, how he acts. And Boyd has just swanned back to the Lodge after 20 years gone, with all his memories of the Lodge from back in ‘98 driven back into his mind - and part of him is expecting the Lodge to be the exact same way it was when he left. But it’s not. You can’t go home again. The Lodge has moved on without him, which he never expected, and coming back to them is… awkward.

It’s simple. They don’t know what to do with a version of Boyd who’s missed the past 20 years of their lives; Boyd doesn’t know what to do with people who have changed from the folks he knew 20 years ago. He’s lost, floating, and alienated, like going to a high school reunion after not having spoken to a living soul since graduation. It sucks for him. And the only wholly unfamiliar face there, other than the main Pine Guard - who he’s mostly fine with, except for Ned - is Gary, and he can’t help but be irritated with him. That changes, though.

What I essentially want to do is set these versions of the characters up as foils. Similar characters, similar pasts, similar situations that got them to this point. All that’s different is how far in their respective arcs they are. So I’m going to have them be friends. Give each other a chance in the face of a bigger threat, open up a little more, have conversations, talk about things with each other because they’re the only ones around to listen. The Lodge gave them second chances when they needed them most. Maybe they can do that for each other.

This is also to say, I would be a massive fucking liar if I say I haven’t considered having that unfold into a rivals-to-lovers arc. Yeah, I said it. I’ve considered it, at length and in serious detail, since I started drafting the arcs for TCOS. In fact, that’s what I’m probably going to do. I’ve gotten too hooked by the possibility to give it up. I outlined hypothetical futures for the whole cast after the final battle in Sylvain and, given the things I want to happen in that battle and the messy post-war fallout, it makes sense that these two would gravitate towards each other.

It makes a lot more sense in context, believe me. They’ve got a long row to hoe before they trust each other enough to become friends, or even push the envelope towards a romantic relationship - they’d have months and even YEARS to wait to pull that off. Whatever I end up doing with them, they are easily my favorite part of TCOS to unravel, mostly because I  - and, honestly, everyone else - probably never saw it coming.

Thanks for the ask, anon. This made my week. So sorry for the long response, but I have so many thoughts on what I’m doing with these idiots, and putting them down on paper was really fun. Any other questions or comments about this? Fire away, I’d be more than willing to answer! 

[kadeu]

Accepted — "Sparrow”

♥   Sparrow looks like Oliver Sykes (Bring Me The Horizon) ♥    He was born Nov 20, 1991; making him 28 years old  ♥    This Shifter is a Falseranking Five of Hearts ♥    He is a Revolutionary Assassin

Biography

Sparrow was born as small and fragile as his self-determined namesake, and twice as sickly. He never knew either of his parents and could only speculate on the reasons why they left him behind. The single legacy granted to him was an enigma – a Q on the inside of his wrist and but a vague guess at what faction he could possibly be, abandoned on a pile of rags in the Hearts district as a baby. His younger years were a whirlwind as Sparrow grew stronger and his Shifter nature took hold, a feral, ravenous problem child juggled from orphanage to foster home to orphanage and eventually, when he refused to be controlled or contained, thrown back to the mercy of the streets. Out of options and unwilling to succumb to his hunger or his fate, a desperate Sparrow caught and ate a mouse – which included, of course, its heart.

The act didn’t bother him nearly so much as it should have.

Hours later and already trying to secure his next meal, Sparrow was caught with sticky fingers stretched behind a vegetable vendor’s stall, but when the woman’s hand darted for his thin wrist, she caught nothing but a brush of velvety-soft brown fur. He scurried away, tiny heart beating a million miles a minute, as she railed and shouted at the empty air Sparrow had just occupied. It was only uphill from there, even though the going still wasn’t easy.

Despite the meagerest understanding of his Shifter nature, Sparrow now knew what he needed to survive and he could guess how to do it. His animal forms were curated accordingly, a limited suite of small, inconspicuous, dextrous counterparts built for effortless intrusions and flawless escapes.

Honing his thievery to a needle-fine point over the next handful of years, Sparrow learned early on that the Q at his wrist opened doors for him even if he’d simply been born with it: it meant little to him, but apparently so much more to others. In spite of this Sparrow still had to be good to survive, and his talents didn’t go unnoticed. At age eleven he was snapped up by the local guild of thieves, recognized as skilled and indispensably exploitable for his youth and rank. 

Neither lasted forever. Despite his success with the guild, Sparrow had been easily tricked into the assumption all spoils were pooled; everything he’d ever earned was made part of the guild’s coffers. November 20th brought with it the harshest of realities: his birthday, Sparrow discovered, as he turned fifteen and his rank – now solidifying him as a Heart – dropped to a solitary 1. No longer of inherent use to the guild, his supposed second family treated him just as poorly as the first when they kicked him unceremoniously to the curb.

Unfortunately, they’d trained him too well. Just a couple of months after his return to the streets, Sparrow turned right back around to use their own tactics against them: he broke into the guild and robbed their stores of as much as he could carry.

Now, instead of a Queen, instead of a 1, he was a Jack.

Realizing he could game the system based simply on the value of his bank account, Sparrow quickly learned to take advantage, not only of criminally easy falseranking but also an assortment of well-placed bribes to keep frequent and suspect bank activity under wraps. For Sparrow, hooking up with the revolutionaries was a no-brainer: every damn day he illustrated how broken the system was, flitting wildly from Jack to 3 and back to 10 in matters of hours. It meant nothing. Even as a child he’d been exploited for the letter on his wrist when he hadn’t earned a thing.

With the resistance receiving more than enough financial backing from an assortment of highranked and often anonymous donors, Sparrow knew he had to juggle specialties in order to be of more use. Not a fighter by any stretch of the imagination, Sparrow’s methods had always prioritized stealth and the art of invisibility over brute strength; he couldn’t fight for them as a champion, but he could kill for them as a ghost.

And again, killing didn’t bother him nearly so much as it should have.

His tenure as an assassin is still a few years’ fresh, but seeing as he employs so many of the skills he already practiced as a thief, the professional shift wasn’t a difficult one – and it’s certainly far more lucrative. Kadeu loves a good vendetta, and will pay appropriately well for deadly talent and discretion. Much of Sparrow’s motivation comes from what interests him or can hold his attention. As opportunistic as any Heart ought to be, he doesn’t restrict his work to the revolution; if you have the coin, you have his consideration.

Personality

Simply put, Sparrow has a poor sense of self. He’s spent too much time living for or pretending to be others that he doesn’t understand who he’s meant to be, and honestly, that’s never bothered him. Immature and distant, it’s easy to assume Sparrow hates people and interacting with them until you learn he simply doesn’t know how. He has a well-founded streak of abandonment issues a mile wide, making it next to impossible for him to trust relationships or form meaningful bonds. Sparrow is charismatic when he wants or needs to be, but it’s sharp – everything about him is sharp.

Born essentially factionless and having rendered his own rank moot, he’s got few fucks to give for the factions and ranks of others. It’s a mixed blessing, being a viewpoint shared with most revolutionaries but likely to get him into trouble disrespecting highrankers. He finds the majority of them and their abuses of privilege repulsive and, despite being highranked himself in actuality, will rarely be seen with anything higher than 5 if he doesn’t need it to serve a specific purpose.

At the end of the day, Sparrow may not have a noble bone in his body – but for now, he lives and breathes for the revolution. If pressed, he’d admit it’s more for the sake of anarchy than altruism. There hasn’t been a single system that’s worked for him his entire life, so he figures: why not burn them all to the ground?

Congratulations Alex your app has been accepted and your personalized plot drop will be sent to you soon.

Please follow and welcome @passcridae to Kadeu!

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, the-prophet-lemonade!

For @the-prophet-lemonade. So, I honestly panicked when I received the name of my giftee. Lucy, I did my best to put as many tropes as you like here. I hope it's not too crazy or confusing. I've never written space opera before, and it was a big challenge. I hope you like it 🙈

Read On AO3

*****

I’m gonna hold you (like I’m saying goodbye)

“Alexander!”

“On it!” Alec shouted back, sprinting through the busy, narrow alley. They’d been tailing the dragonfly-shaped creature for fifteen space jumps and through three galaxies, and they didn’t have the luxury of time to keep playing tag.

At least, Magnus didn’t have it.

Groaning, Alec saw the moment their target rose its wings and took flight.

Oh no.

That motherfucker wouldn’t.

Activating his runes, Alec jumped to his right and landed briefly on a barrel before launching himself upwards. He sprang from a windowsill on the left to a roof on the right, and pushed himself far enough to grab the creature’s tail and force them both back down.

With the natural grace of a Nephil – a blessed warrior crafted from the Creation’s purest energy – Alec landed graciously on the ground; or, more specifically, over his target’s body. Without wasting a beat, Alec unsheathed his Seraph blade and held it to the other figure’s neck.

“No more games. Where is the egg?” he asked with as much authority as he could muster, a dangerous threat lacing his voice.

The dragonfly-creature groaned, but relented, giving Alec the coordinates for the Dragon egg’s location.

“Alexander,” Magnus called again, finally reaching the Nephil. He stopped to catch his breath, having to sit for a moment. He was exhausted. The amount of power needed to keep his glamour up, hiding his scales, has been very taxing to his body lately.

Turning his head in Magnus’ direction, Alec’s face softened instantaneously. Glancing down to the robotic cat at Magnus’ feet, Alec spoke kindly. “Chairman, can you send a message to Isabelle Lightwood at the 987th octant of Idris galaxy? Tell her to come to the Seelie Planet. I got another illegal dealer.”

Chairman Meow’s face lit up in an affirmative, a rush of numbers and coordinates passing through the screen as the message was sent. Meanwhile, Alec pressed his knee more forcefully against the criminal who was still hissing and cursing him.

“For your cooperation, I’m going to request a lenient sentence for you. But if you are trying to mislead me, I swear I’ll personally throw you into the nearest black hole,” Alec growled, making Magnus snicker. He knew Alec would never do that to another living being, it was too cruel a move for his big-hearted friend; but the criminals didn’t know that, so they always complied.

Well, at least they now knew where to get the seventh Dragon egg.

~*~

The 5 th Draconic Rule – Mates

Gift – Every Dragon has a bonded mate; a soul created exclusively for their care, protection, and devotion. The bond is sacred, and its strength ensures the power and mental stability of a Dragon.

Curse – A Dragon who is without a mate on their thousandth supernoval cycle is fated to meet one of only two ends: complete madness, or death.

~*~

When the first translucent scales appeared, tiny ones near his hip, Magnus knew the clock was ticking. He would have to decide soon, and although he already knew which option it was going to be, it didn’t make taking the final leap less daunting.

His father was one of the most powerful dragons to ever exist, coming from royal lineage and with an entire planet under his claws. But his power came with a price - always a price - and his reign was tainted with blood and death.

Magnus refused to be part of it, to continue a kingdom built on pain and tears. His refusal also came with a price - when he was finally able to break free from Asmodeus, his father used one last trick.

He cursed Magnus' soul to never recognize his counterpart. Without the guide for his fated bond, he would never find his rider.

Asmodeus condemned Magnus to a lonely life with a sad end.

~*~

While waiting for the magnetic storm that would enable the space jump they needed to get to their next location, Magnus and Alec decided to venture through the heavily decorated town, full of warm lights and oddly curved, red-and-white striped decorations. The townspeople were apparently celebrating some kind of deity which was dear to their small planet, so the festivities were expected to go on for two whole weeks. A lot of visitors from other planets made the crowded streets busier than ever, the local merchants thriving as they sold their domestic goods and traditional food.

Holding each other’s hand to not get lost within the busy streets – though both knew better than to believe in that weak excuse – Magnus and Alec enjoyed the proximity and warmth of their interlaced fingers.

They had lost so much time, avoiding any attempt at something besides friendship due to their fear of an expected separation. After all, if Magnus did miraculously find his mate, their time together would end, and it would be too painful to accept that reality. All right, maybe the bond could be platonic – it had happened in other cases. But what if it wasn’t? By now, Alec knew about Magnus’ feelings for him; but what if the bond was stronger? What if Magnus fell in love at first sight with his rider?

Of course Alec would let him go, but it would hurt so much. And Magnus also knew what Alec felt, and would never want to inflict that kind of pain on him.

Their separation had maybe always been inevitable - but if they were going to save Magnus’ life, it would have to be soon, too. So, as a small mercy to themselves, they’d finally agreed to make the most of the time they still had together before…

Before whatever ending waited for them – Magnus’ salvation, or his death.

They wouldn’t put a name or label on their brief, joyful time together.

They would just be them.

Just Magnus and Alec.

They tried to have some fun, at least - and this festival was no exception. They played some of the games and won a few good prizes – which they didn’t mind giving to some of the children who looked at them with pleading eyes. They ate and drank and laughed. It was good. It didn’t feel like a big disaster was just waiting to fall on their heads at any time.

When night started to set and thousands of moonlight orbs floated in the growing light to illuminate the festival, Alec pulled Magnus aside to put something on his hand. It was a small, rectangular charm, made of red silk and golden thread.

“What is this?” There were awe and wonder in Magnus’ eyes, making them sparkle even more.

He is so beautiful. Alec smiled bashfully.

“It’s called an omamori. They are sacred to the feathered race, and I’ve heard that only those from the Phoenix constellation can make this. Each color and each thread are carefully chosen as they have different meanings, and ultimately the charm is bathed in blessed ashes mixed with powdered moonstone to strengthen its power.”

Magnus nodded slowly, taking in every detail and tracing the omamori with reverent fingers.

“What does this one mean?”

While Magnus was distracted by some silk scarves, Alec was drawn to the mystic power of a stall full of charms, which were being sold by a humanoid, copper-feathered bird wearing more jewels and chains than clothes.

The kind vendor explained the basics of omamori magic to Alec, and he felt more compelled than ever to buy one. He was torn between two – a blue and silver one, and a red and golden one, but when the vendor told him the blue and silver omamori was for success and longevity, oh… Alec felt a pang in his heart.

It would be clinging to something that would almost certainly never happen.

But the other option…

“Luck and protection.” Because if things went well? It would be by sheer luck. And protection… “Because I swore to always protect you, and I meant it - this way, if something happens and I’m not there, you’ll still be guarded.”

“Oh…” Magnus breathed softly, a small and genuine smile lighting up his face. He touched the omamori gently to his lips, his draconic eyes shining. “Thank you, Alexander.”

The soldier ducked his head and smiled, before nodding towards the food court.

“What do you say to some sweets from the Orion constellation?” They were some of Magnus’ favorites, he knew.

Magnus grinned. “You really know the way to a dragon’s heart,” he declared with a wink.

That Alec already lived in one was left unsaid.

~*~

The 9 th Draconic Rule – Scales

Gift – Every Dragon is born with silver scales, representing their purity of soul and a whole canvas of possibilities. They sing in gold when the ritual of mating is complete, and will then shift into a new color, signifying the Dragon’s new identity.

Curse – Bondless Dragons will surrender to red or black scales. Red scales for an eternal feral state and solitude. Black scales for the grief of death.

~*~

“Approaching the Dragon Sanctuary.” Alec announced through his communicator, unable to contain the excitement in his voice.

“Again?” Jace teased through the same communicator. “I don’t know why you still bother to come back to Idris at all. It’s clear you have a new home now.” Alec didn’t dignify his brother with an answer, mostly because that would mean admitting he was half-right.

Because no, Alec didn’t see Alicante as home anymore, even though he’d grown up there. But home wasn’t the Dragon Sanctuary either.

Home was a breathing thing. A person.

Or, in better terms, home was a dragon.

Alec first met Magnus when he was only sixteen. It was an odd situation, but somehow they saved each other while fighting against a group of mercenary hunters. After that, Magnus accompanied Alec for some time to make sure he would get back home without any more problems.

From there, they never stopped seeing each other. Ten years later and their visits had continued all the while. It was hard sometimes, since they lived in different galaxies; but Alec was one of the best warriors and pilots from Idris galaxy, and it wasn’t a problem for him to escape sometimes to go and see the one who made his heart beat a little faster and his mind spin.

Turning off the communicator once more, Alec finished the landing procedures, and stepped out of the craft onto the grass surrounding Magnus’ nest.

When he felt something quickly curl around his body, he didn’t even flinch. He would recognize that warmth and sandalwood scent anywhere.

“Hey,” Alec grinned, petting the dragon’s head as it kept nuzzling his cheek. Magnus’ true form was much, much bigger than this one, but he liked to say that this was the perfect size to cuddle Alec.

“Hello, pretty boy.” Magnus’ voice in his draconic form was a bit deeper, but still soft, with a musical lilt. “Missed my eyes?” As if to make his point, he lifted his head and golden, slitted eyes bored into Alec’s hazel ones, until a flirtatious wink broke the spell.

“Actually, I missed all of you, not only the eyes.” Alec answered bluntly as always, making Magnus pause in surprise and then burst out in delighted laughter.

A second later, Magnus shifted back into his human form, magic already wrapping him in clothes. Still, he didn’t let go of Alec and hugged the Nephil for a little longer.

Magnus wasn’t one to hug much – that was more Alec’s department – so when the dragon lingered longer and actually tightened the embrace a bit desperately, Alec knew something was wrong.

“What is it?” Alec pulled gently away so that he could turn and look at Magnus, and his smile faltered when he saw the dragon’s crestfallen face.

Instead of replying, Magnus just pulled back part of his cloak, showing his collarbones. And showing the translucent scales that glinted on his skin.

Translucent scales, on his human form.

Alec felt his face drain of color, and he grabbed urgently at Magnus’ shoulders. “When?”

“Last week,” Magnus mumbled. “This is why I asked you to come a little earlier. You… you know what this means.”

“Magnus…” Alec felt his heart ready to combust from sheer panic. “Your choice… What choice have you made?”

Magnus flinched at that, and right then Alec had his answer. He closed his eyes, willing the tears to not come.

Of course. Of course Magnus would want that.

Without his soulmate, spending the rest of his eternal life as a barely-sentient, feral creature would be Magnus’ worst nightmare.

Of course he would choose death.

But Alec had barely opened his mouth to protest when two other dragons landed beside them.

“Cat, Ragnor, good of you to join the party.” Magnus smiled, putting on that happy façade which Alec absolutely hated to see on his friend’s face.

Catarina and Ragnor were Magnus’ best friends, and together they formed a trio of unshakable loyalty and care. However, unlike Magnus, those two already had riders with platonic bonds. Ragnor, whose scales were the beautiful green of a forest touched by the first rays of light after dawn and whose horns had a curvature bigger than his head, was bonded to a priest called Raphael. And Cat, whose scales were the fresh blue of the clearest ocean, was bonded to a little girl called Madzie who was still learning how to be a rider.

As for Magnus…

Alec thought about Magnus’ silver scales. Usually they were a dragon’s version of ‘plain’, but Magnus was always adorning them with jewelry, until he not only shined but sparkled like a gemstone in the sun. But still, all the decoration in the world didn’t change the message a silver scale sent.

Magnus was bondless.

He was alone.

He had no one to care for him, to love him.

Alec sighed inwardly. What an ugly lie. If he could…

But that thought was quickly interrupted by Cat dropping yet another bombshell.

“We found a solution,” she began, speaking as soon as she shifted back into her human form. “It was hard, but the Elders finally yielded. Have you ever heard of the Journey of Eight?”

“Isn’t that a myth?” Magnus frowned.

“All myths are real, dumbass.” Ragnor grumbled, also shifting. Then, he turned to Alec, who presumably looked very lost. “Dragon eggs are rare and very precious for us,” he explained, “but they also emanate a lot of power, which unfortunately serves to draw untowards attention.”

Alec nodded, already aware of that fact. Dragon eggs were on the top of mercenary hunters’ list to acquire. A small piece was worth a fortune capable of sustaining a family for three generations.

“When a Dragon is born, no matter where it is in the Universe, it’s imperative that the remnants of the egg should be destroyed, or else anyone could get their hands on it.” Cat continued. “But there are rumors of Dragons who didn’t have the chance to do that, so some of their egg remains.”

“There is even one in a fucking museum,” Ragnor grumbled.

Catarina grimaced. “Yes, there is. But our point is - Magnus, if you collect one piece of eight different eggs, their power would be enough to fuel a ritual that will point in the direction of your rider, no matter how far away they are.”

“What?” Magnus spluttered, and Alec felt the same, torn between shock and hope.

Magnus could be saved.

“Do you know the coordinates for those pieces? I can go take them right now!” Alec stood at attention, a soldier more than eager to take orders and act.

“Alexander!” Now Magnus was the shocked one. “My thousandth cycle is in a month's time. It’s impossible to search through millions of galaxies in that time.”

“But we have to at least try,” Alec insisted. “Listen, my ship is fast. I’m a good pilot. If I have the coordinates? I don’t care if I have to make five hundred jumps, or five thousand jumps, Magnus. I won’t miss this opportunity to help you.”

Magnus’ Adam’s apple bobbed painfully as he swallowed. That sweet, sweet man.

Biting his lower lip, Magnus nodded, a fierce expression crossing his face.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Magnus, I can handle–”

“No, this is non-negotiable. The Dragon eggs are for me, so I decide that. Besides…” Bringing a hand to his lips, Magnus whistled loudly.

Seconds later, his robotic cat – Chairman Meow – came running from Magnus’ nest. As cute and small Chairman looked, Alec knew better.

That robot knew one hundred ways to kill and hide the body without anyone knowing.

“Chairman only goes where I go.” Magnus grinned. “And my intuition tells me he will be a very useful addition to our team.”

~*~

The snow drifted slowly, dancing and tumbling in the air like fireflies. It was beautiful, especially when the scarce light caught it and reflected a fleeting, pocket-sized aurora. However, as pretty as it might be, it was also a sign of the steely and dangerous cold. The situation of sharing a single bed seemed less ‘odd’ and more like an obviously excellent idea, the two of them bundling up under the same blanket to keep themselves warm.

Alec didn’t mind, especially since he would do anything to stop Magnus’ shivering body from shutting down. The fire in the hearth wasn’t enough anymore, hadn’t been for hours. Chairman Meow had already needed to activate one of his survival mode settings, too, turning into a small space heater to keep the chill at bay.

Magnus was running out of time.

Not only his body was starting to freeze from inside out, his blood running sluggishly, but more scales were blooming and darkening. They’d already advanced over his neck and reached his chin, and by now they were half-covering his forearms and thighs, too.

They were killing him.

Alec let out a shuddering breath and held Magnus more tightly against his own body, earning a weak, content sigh from the dragon. Looking out of the window, past the snow and lights, Alec sent up a prayer - or just a desperate plea - to the stars hidden up above, or whatever power lurked behind them.

Please, don’t take him away from me. Give us more time. Please, please.

~*~

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. The last Dragon egg was said to be inside a cave that only other dragons could locate, and Magnus found it easily - but they hadn't expected to also find mercenary hunters. It was unbelievable that even after Valentine’s demise, his goons were still out there causing havoc, enacting his toxic and distorted vision.

Fucking dammit.

Nothing was easy, huh?

When they’d retrieved the first few egg fragments, fights hadn’t been a problem - Alec and Magnus worked well as partners in battle. But now, with Magnus growing ever weaker, the only way they stood half a chance was if Chairman Meow was also actively helping them fight.

Which meant it was a good thing the cat was programmed to spit fire. Bless Magnus for having insisted on bringing him with them - a portable flamethrower was exactly what they needed, especially after Alec’s second Seraph blade fell into the river of lava below.

After all, going for a swim to retrieve it was hardly an option.

Magnus finally reached the eggshell fragment - the last piece they needed, hidden in a glamoured nest. Alec was still finishing off the last hunters, struggling without Magnus’ help and his increasing fatigue. By now, he’d lost not only both blades, but also his bow - he was using his arrows as last-resort weapons, now. Eventually, though, one of them struck home in the eye of the last hunter standing, and Alec slumped, catching his breath.

It was too soon.

One of the hunters who was already down – an elemental demon, who despite his half-burned body suddenly seemed to find a last burst of energy - struck out, launching a ball of raw elemental power at Alec.

Alec barely had time to blink before Magnus pushed him out of the way and took the brunt of it.

“NO!” Alec screamed, crashing to his knees. “You fucking stupid, fucking idiot…” He crawled over to Magnus and cradled his limp form, anguish threatening to swallow him whole even as he brought the dragon as close as possible.

“Not… charming, darling…” Magnus coughed, blinking sluggishly.

“Don’t care. How many times have we talked about your dumb self-sacrificing tendencies? You are not a fucking living shield!”

“You’re one to talk. Also, you are saying the word ‘fucking’ far too much, Alexander. Is there some kind of urge you’re trying to hint at right now?” Magnus gave a wobbly smile, as well as a bleary, poor attempt at a wink.

“Stop flirting,” Alec chastised, a lopsided grin slowly blooming on his own lips despite his rising fear.

Magnus hummed in acknowledgment, but no other quip came forth. Instead, his eyes closed and didn’t open again.

“Magnus?” Nothing. “Magnus, hey-” He shook the dragon a little bit, Magnus staying unresponsive - but the change in position illuminated black scales, new ones, growing on his face.

They were out of time.

Resisting the urge to break down right there, Alec lifted Magnus up and strode towards his ship.

They had to go back to the Dragon Sanctuary now.

~*~

Alec could count on only one hand how many times he left his ship to navigate by autopilot. It’s not that the AI wasn’t efficient; Alicante’s technology was undeniably some of the best in the known Universe. Most of his people still believed it to be their divine right, as they were the chosen ones from the Creation itself.

There was a time Alec also believed in that natural, just superiority. Until...

A weak tremor caught his attention and he looked back down at the man still cradled in his arms. Magnus’ human form was fading. His breathing was ragged and his pulse was weak.

“Fuck,” Alec cursed, his eyes blowing wide in panic. “Church, go faster!”

“We are already at maximum speed, sir.”

Alec cursed again. He needed to pilot the ship manually, so he could break past the damn protocols and force the system to crash its primary settings. Without the restraints implanted by the Clave, he could burn up all of the stamina core in minutes and increase their speed tenfold.

He’d be in big trouble for it, of course, but he didn’t care. Magnus was his priority.

He had been for a long time.

AIs weren’t made to enter a gravitational field by themselves, the unpredictable shifts in G making the systems unstable to the point of shutdown. Always, always turning off the autopilot and navigating manually through gravitational fields was one of the first things Alec had learned at Alicante Academy.

But right now, he either piloted or held Magnus. He couldn’t do both, and maybe they needed the speed, but putting Magnus down away from his warmth and posture support was out of the question.

So, Alec made his choice.

And he could only pray it was the right one.

ATTENTION

ATTENTION

SAFETY PROTOCOL MALFUNCTION

CRASH LANDING IMMINENT

“Chairman, secure us!” Alec yelled amidst the blaring alarms, and the robot promptly leaped into action. Elongating his tail, he fastened it around Alec and Magnus, pinning them on the makeshift bed. His claws also grew and penetrated the metal floor, firmly holding onto it.

Alec closed his eyes and waited, hoping for the best. And if the worst happened instead?

Well, Magnus was already dying.

At least he wouldn’t die alone.

ATTENTION

ATTENTION

TRAJECTORY UNSAFE

CRASH LANDING IMMI-

~*~

The 6 th Draconic Rule – Bonds

Gift – The bonds have two different natures; they can be either platonic or romantic. The platonic bond is more common, but the romantic bond is more powerful. Combined with partnership, the soul bond allows for total connection and shared strength.

Curse – A rider can reject a bond if they do not desire to be by their Dragon’s side. The pain of rejection is visceral. Death is considered a far kinder fate.

~*~

“…wood. Lightwood! Bloody hell, boy! Where did you learn to pilot? Your ship is a goddamned wreck-”

“Ragnor, if you aren’t going to help, do be quiet. Concussions don’t heal themselves, I have work to do.”

“Just wake him, for fuck’s sake! Concussion or not, he’s the only one here who can take Magnus to the fountain, and if he doesn’t damn well hurry up-”

Alec’s eyes snapped open, his body jackknifing upwards. Instinct kicked in before recognition, his frantic heart threatening to escape from his chest, and he reached for Magnus – who was still unconscious and laying beside him.

With trembling fingers, he pressed down on the pulse point at Magnus’.

It was so faint…

“Alec, we’re nearly out of time.” His attention finally snapped upwards to the two other dragons present, his brain kicking back into gear with a spike of hope. If Catarina and Ragnor were there, that meant they did it, they reached the Dragon Sanctuary. “Did you get all eight pieces?”

Alec nodded, grabbing at the small satchel attached to the cord on his neck.

“Perfect. We have to go.” Cat opened a portal and stepped through it without missing a beat. Ragnor followed, looking back at Alec one last time with a worried glare that quite clearly meant hurry the fuck up.

Alec didn’t need to be told twice. He lifted Magnus into his arms once more, and the two of them disappeared through the portal.

On the other side, Alec stepped out into the most majestic scenery he’d ever seen. They were inside some kind of cavern, what looked like the base of a mountain with how high it was, the ceiling barely visible. The walls and whole swathes of the floor were covered with stalagmites so clear, they seemed made of pure crystal.

A moment later, the torches around them flared to life, and produced a whole spectrum of colors and magic and sound.

Alec didn’t know how that was possible, but it was like the stones were humming some kind of melody.

In the center of everything, there was a fountain – the water so crystal blue, it was easy to see the sigils and marks on the bottom of it. Around it, exactly eight bowls – equally distanced from each other – with eight black candles already alight, burning gold as Cat or Ragnor threw a piece of dragon egg into each flame.

When the last piece was burned, the entire fountain began to shine.

“Put him in the water, now!” Ragnor practically roared, but Alec was already in motion, leaping straight into the center of the water; Magnus floated freely, but Alec couldn’t step away, opened his mouth to ask if the ritual would work with him there and-

The water pulsed.

No, wait - it was Magnus’ body pulsing, his soul looking for its counterpart.

Three beats later, everything stilled.

Alec waited with bated breath, expecting at any moment to see some kind of magical arrow appear, pointing to where Magnus’ soulmate was.

But absolutely nothing happened.

Alec’s heart plummeted. They were too late, they- “No, no, no,” he mumbled, his hands twitching at his sides. “Why didn't it work? He needs his rider. Why–”

“Alec,” Cat interrupted him, but not unkindly. “Look down.”

Blinking hard, he did exactly that.

There was a gold thread coming out from Magnus’ chest and connecting to…

Oh.

Connecting to his own chest.

It was him? He was Magnus’ rider?

Another pulse, and something – something ancient and powerful – whispered in his ear.

And suddenly, Alec knew exactly what to do.

Lowering himself further into the water and bringing Magnus into his arms once more, he kissed his dragon’s forehead, and then began to chant in a strong, quiet voice.

“Thee and me ever entwin'd

Dragon of mine, heart of blissful shine

I bond myself to thee, now and forever

Dragon of mine, mine own eternal shrine”

A pulse.

The water shone silver.

Another pulse.

And like molten obsidian, Magnus’ scales turned from black to gold.

Another pulse, and another, and another and another-

The cave was coming alive like a dormant heart, beating against long-worn stillness. And then it breathed - and Magnus transformed, his bones shifting under blinding light, stretching into a dragon form that was so big, he ended up occupying almost the entire fountain.

When the light dissipated, his scales weren’t gold anymore.

Nor – thankfully – black.

They were a mesmerizing azure blue.

Alec bit back a cry of joy, and relief, and excitement. Magnus was saved.

Magnus was going to be alright.

“My rider,” Magnus rumbled, lowering his head – so big, just his eye was bigger than Alec’s head – and nuzzled against Alec’s chest. “My darling Alexander. It has always been you.”

“Yeah…” Alec closed his eyes, feeling all the tension leave him at once, and letting himself snuggle against Magnus. Suddenly, a chuckle slipped free. “I can’t believe that damn curse prevented us from seeing the obvious.”

“I can’t believe it worked; I was almost certain that the eggs wouldn’t help,” Magnus hummed. “Even if they pointed to the direction where my rider was supposed to be, there was still the possibility of them being too far away for me to get there in time. Or they could have been dead. Or… or they could have rejected me.”

Now that they were bonded, Alec could feel the fear bleeding from Magnus’ words, and it made his own heart ache. “So why did you want to go through all that trouble just to get them?” he asked, frowning.

“To be with you,” the dragon replied simply. “If I was going to die, I wanted to spend my last moments with the person who made me the happiest.”

“Magnus…” Alec felt a lump rise to his throat, and held his dragon a little tighter. Just thinking about Magnus’ demise was enough to make him shiver. He hoped to never feel that fear again.

“Oddly enough, Magnus is right,” Catarina suddenly said, drawing their attention. “The eggs didn’t help at all, really.” She grinned at their clear confusion. “I’m sorry for the deception, but it was the only way. The truth is, it was never about the eggs. It was about the journey - your journey.” Her smile softened. “You two already had a natural bond in place, but Asmodeus’ curse was messing with the nature of it. You fell in love without knowing you were soulmates.”

Alec blushed. Love… Even if they had never put a label on what they were, on what they felt for the other…

Love felt very right.

“That’s also why Magnus didn’t fade so fast,” Ragnor added. “Had he spent that length of time alone, he never would have stood a chance. He could only hold on because you were always together.”

At that moment, Magnus returned to his human form, and for the first time in months, he looked healthy. Alec was so relieved, he felt like crying.

Naturally, Magnus immediately broke the moment. “Now you don’t have an excuse not to ride me, Alexander,” he declared with a smirk.

Alec snorted, but the sound was too close to a sob. He thought he was going to lose that, too. Magnus’ terrible jokes and shameless flirtations. Unable to stand even a tiny distance any longer, he practically threw himself at Magnus, hugging him firmly and burying his face in the crook of his neck.

“I promise to always protect you,” he said fiercely. “Nothing bad will happen to you again. I’ll be by your side every step of the way.”

“This sounds awfully like a wedding vow, darling,” Magnus teased - but there was a note of insecurity in his voice, too.

“I mean, we can get married, can’t we?” Still holding his soulmate, Alec turned to Cat and Ragnor, as if looking for their blessing. After getting a nod and appreciative smiles from both, Alec turned back to Magnus and held his face with the utmost care and affection.

Then, he leaned in and finally, finally kissed Magnus.

Magnus kissed back with equal fervor, yearning for the sweet contact he’d craved for so long. They only pulled apart to finally say what could no longer be contained - the only words that really mattered, the ones they needed to pronounce and hear more than they needed air to breathe.

“I love you.”

I love you, I love you, I love you.

[autumnslance]

Prompt #17: Obeisant

Dearest Rashae,

I hope you won’t mind the pack of letters that you’re going to receive in bulk from a pixie. It almost seems easier to write to you than in my journal, even if I cannot send them so often as I might like. Perhaps it’s the need for connection to home, as far away from even Eorzea that I am.

Before I go much further: Yes, I have checked my journal for entries I don’t remember writing. She’s not saying anything. Yet.

I’m writing you from Mord Souq. As I told you before, it’s the largest “city” left in Amh Araeng. It’s perhaps only a little bigger than Vesper Bay, and almost as busy as that port.

I’ve joined up with another bounty hunter after another of the Cardinal Virtues. Granson lost his fiancee to this one a year ago. I thought, at first, his many scars were a result of his hunts--but the majority of them are self-inflicted, a way of dealing with his pain and visual reminder of his promise to hunt the one they call Dikaiosyne.

I knew him as Blanhaerz. His real name was Branden. He was a knight of Voeburt before becoming a Warrior of Light, before the Flood. Like the others, he sacrificed himself to save this realm. Now his remains have been twisted into this mockery.

Granson wants revenge; I want to put Ardbert’s brother to rest. He doesn’t deserve this fate. None of them do.

At least, that’s what I believe. It’s one of the few beliefs I have left.

We tracked a piece of antique jewelry to Amh Araeng. Sin eaters are creatures of instinct, feral and unthinking. The Cardinal Virtues I have hunted so far have been different, each one driven by instinct, yes, but the instinct was influenced by a strong memory of their past. In Renda-Rae’s case, the hunt for the beast that took her friends. For Nyelbert, rescuing Taynor from the Rift. For Branden, it has something to do with these pieces of antique jewelry; I am unsure yet as to their significance, and my brief meeting with Dikaiosyne earlier did not enlighten me.

Usually my glimpses of the former Warriors of Light trigger the Echo, sending me reeling as they vanish once again, leaving my companions and I to start over in our hunt. Today, though, I was seeking a scavenger who had found a companion to the piece Dikaiosyne had stolen last year, when he attacked Granson’s village.

I was too late, by ilms and seconds.

I heard the man’s screaming, and crested the dune just in time to see the horrific transformation once more. I shall never be used to it, and hope our actions here soon abolish its like occurring ever again. Dikaiosyne spared not a glance at his newborn, nor for me. He simply picked up the fallen choker and left in a haze, as they are wont to do.

The new eater still had just enough of its original mind left to beg me for the only aid I could give. So I did what had to be done.

After, as it broke into component aether, I tried to pray for the lost man’s soul...and found I could not.

I have spent so much time now fighting others’ gods. Learning the nature of primals, of the summoning Louisoix attempted at Carteneau. And now, so far from home, I have learned a new truth, of the Crystal and Her counterpart, of the history of the world and the heart of our beliefs--of my very existence and purpose.

And I realized, standing there in the shifting, sandy Hills of Amber, that I cannot pray. Not anymore. Not to gods I do not, cannot, believe in.

Part of me wanted to laugh, but I was afraid I would never stop.

I was born to a proper Halonic village, under the sign of the Fury, even, in the midst of winter. But Halone is an abstract concept, the many volumes housed in Ishgard’s libraries academically and aesthetically valuable, but they give my soul no comfort.

My Sharlayan colleagues regard Thaliak highly, looking for guidance and wisdom, but I have only ever seen their own intelligences at work, and my only connection to the Scholar is the marker in Mor Dhona where we paid respects to one of our fallen.

Thal can keep the gilded halls, if they even exist. Rhalgr’s power is naught more than that which naturally arcs across the sky, and honestly, how different is reverence for him better than Ramuh, who also controls such destructive force, according to the sylphs? Not that I’ll say such to Lyse or Raubahn whenever we next meet, though as a former Scion she should know better.

We make our own gods, out of desperation. With the right magic, they answer--but the cost is too great, after all I’ve seen and experienced.

Were I still in Ishgard, I might well be branded a heretic for such opinions. But I cannot give obeisance to figments of our own imaginations. I cannot ask a fiction to gather a soul whose life was ended so violently, to grant succor to the widow left behind.

I can imagine your reply; that I shouldn’t be too hasty, nor trust in the words of a Paragon, no matter how much evidence seemed to support his version of the truth. And I know that. I know the truth is likely somewhere in between what Hydaelyn’s Word told us, and what Emet-Selch said.

It does nothing for the emptiness I felt there in the sand, staring at the spot the eater had been. The proper thing to do would have been to pray. But I just couldn’t.

I felt...lost.

Maybe I am. Just another sinner, as they say here in Norvrandt. Fighting the sinless, the ones who’ve supposedly been “forgiven” by the Light.

[There is a gap in the lines, and the ink of the next is of a slightly different hue]

That got rather heavy, didn’t it? I had to put up my writing once Granson got back from dealing with the scavenger’s widow. I considered removing the last page on re-reading what I wrote but on reflection I shall keep it. Even if I never send this missive, and instead leave it tucked between pages of my journal, putting the feeling to words helped loosen some of the tightness in my chest and ache in my heart.

We’re off to Il Mheg, on our hunt for Dikaiosyne. Granson’s pieced enough of the story together that we hope to learn more there, in the ruins of the nation Branden hailed from. Hopefully the fae won’t give us too difficult a time--luckily, I have a bit of an in with their King, at least.

I will write to you again soon, and maybe even send some of what I’ve written, speaking of my friend the King of the fae. I shall have to be quite flowery in my request; they enjoy that.

Please don’t worry about me; I’m fine, really, if just realizing what all I’ve lost in the process of becoming a Warrior of Light and Darkness. Perhaps it was inevitable.

Even so, I have hope for the future my friends and I have wrought for this realm, and our own. For the people here who struggle and survive in the face of the odds, and continue living their lives on their own terms despite teetering so close to the brink.

Perhaps, if I am left to believe in anything, I believe in them.

Give my love to the rest. I’ll send a proper letter to be read for the family soon, with stories and pictures for the children.

All my love,

Aeryn

[joonmonjagi]

Divinity Unfold ~ Part 1 [Ohana]

Pairing: J’onn J’onnzxOC, FlashxOC, BatmanxOCxOC

Genre/Warnings: Romance, smut (oral, somewhat rough I guess?, indirect impreg kink, size kink)

Summary: The fate of the world once again hangs in the balance and the Justice League must turn to a force so powerful, even they are left in wonder.

A/N: So, I wanted to try something different. Yes, I write for BTS, but I’m also multifandom when it doesn’t concern kpop, so I figured I’d post some of my other stuff on here too. If you didn’t know, this is Justice League-centric. This is actually rewritten off of an old work I had and I think I like this version much better. Enjoy, I hope you like it. 

Preview: “Ohana may be his mistress and she found him quite equal to her despite socially acceptable ideals, but when it came to their intimacies, Faola demanded submission and she was more than happy to give it.”

"Ah, sí señor y señora Alvarez. Si continúan abordar sus preocupaciones entre sí, yo creo que tendrán menor peleas y el ambiente de su hogar será mucho mejor. Quiero recordarles que no se recomienda que vaya a la cama enojada. El problema se encona durante la noche y la situación tiene el potencial descontrolarse. ¿Sí? Bueno. Pues, les veré en nuestro próxima cita. Que tenga un buen día. Adiós."

Ohana hung up the phone and threw her head back in a long, sighing moan. Working as a relationship counselor could definitely be stressful and even though she was a goddess, it didn't exactly pay the bills. Luckily, she had her handy familiar to release the tension. "Faola, shit." She ran her hands through his soft dreadlocks, gathering them in a fist to push him closer to her core. If there was anything her counterpart knew like the back of his hand, it was how to make her cum in the best ways possible. Now typically, it was frowned upon to have an intimate relationship with one's familiar, but the two had been together for millennia and just because she was a goddess endowed with the ability to manipulate romantic interminglings, much like the Roman Aphrodite could, that didn't mean she was destined for her own happy ending. Therefore, as her dedicated companion and servant, her familiar also was not guaranteed one either. In short, you had to get in where you could fit in and take the wins you got. Meaning, if she had to suck off her most loyal compatriot and vice versa, to get some semblance of her own personal paradise, then so be it.

Faola gripped her thighs tighter, dragging her towards his hungry tongue that speared her and slurped at her clit with even greater force than before. Ohana deeply arched her back and gripped at his strong hands. "I'm cumming," she gasped and released on his tongue. Though a familiar, Faola was certainly not the traditional embodiment of what folklore depicted a familiar to be. Although he preferred to travel in his more feral form, he frequently transitioned into his human form. Both were incredibly beautiful. As a sleek black panther, his lithe, strong build and vibrant amethyst eyes enthralled all who saw him. However, his human form was far more incredible. Tall and built like a runner, his powerful stance demanded respect. His dreadlocks were a deep, dusty auburn, fitted with golden rings that wound throughout his hair. His features were only further complimented by his smooth, dark skin, strong jaw, and long lashes that framed the kohl around his eyes. Perhaps what Ohana found to be his most appealing physical feature; however, was his thick, long cock. It was strong and veiny, capable of reaching depths within her she'd never known were there.

Faola slowly stood and leaned over her in the chair. "My lady, you taste absolutely delectable as always," he purred. His voice could easily drop panties. It was deep and smooth, never rushed. He took his time to speak because he knew you'd wait for as long as it took for him to finish. "I'm pleased you gifted me with your essence so bountifully. Now, I'd like to see how long it takes for me to force it out of you again." He looked directly in her eyes before unbuckling his pants and unveiling what he knew she craved most. "But first, I want to feel you struggle to swallow me whole. Suck," he commanded.

Ohana may be his mistress and she found him quite equal to her despite socially acceptable ideals, but when it came to their intimacies, Faola demanded submission and she was more than happy to give it. Ohana opened her mouth wide to receive him. She knew what to expect, of course. She'd blown him countless times and each one had been better than the lost. Even though he could be rough, and more often than not, he was, he was still attentive to her wellbeing as she pleasured him. As such, he would stuff her throat full, but if at any point he felt she couldn't handle it, he would immediately back off.

He slowly and gently pushed the tip of his member past her lips. Instantly, she moaned at his flavor while he grunted and pushed himself deeper into her cavern. Over and over again he pushed himself in, increasing in depth and speed with each thrust. Soon, she completely relaxed her throat and deep throated him, the sound of her choking on his member resounding throughout the room. He could feel himself tightening, ready to release down her throat. Before he could finish, though, he quickly pulled her off and settled himself between her legs. "Not yet, my dear."

None too gently, Faola twisted her head to the side to give him full access to her neck. Ever so slowly, he bit and soothed the skin of her throat as he made his way down. "I see you followed my instructions to keep these beauties bare for me," he rasped and ripped open her blouse. "Of course. I'd never risk angering you. I have to get my reward, don't I?" Ohana gasped.

Faola chuckled, sending a shiver down her spine. "I suppose you do, but the punishment would be oh so fulfilling." Continuing his trek down to her breasts, he massages each, suckling each nipple, switching between the two.

"Faola," Ohana whimpered, pawing at his abs. "Please? I need you. I don't need the foreplay." Her counterpart lightly glided his fingers down to her thigh, edging them open to deftly play with her folds before he slid two fingers in. She was dripping wet. There really wasn't much need for preparation. "Alright, my love. I'll have mercy on you this once. But know this, my fun will not be over here."

Faola positioned himself at her entrance, wetting his cock with her slick before he pierced her. "Ready?" he placed his forehead to hers to look deeply into her eyes. "Mmm yes. Please, fill me up?" Ohana's words ghosted against his lips, her warm breath fanning across his mouth. "With pleasure."

He slid in perfectly, never stopping until he reached the hilt and her hips were pressed flush to his. "Ah!" she cried, arching her back. "You're so deep," she stuttered out the words and lightly clenched on his length. Holding tight to her hips, he withdrew and plunged back in hard. "You shouldn't tease me, my lady. You might regret it."

Faster and faster, he pistoned in and out of her, pounding her harder each time. He relished in her cries and moans. Ohana's grip on his back never ceased, her nails embedding deep crescent moons in his shoulders. Closer and closer the two raced to their end. Faola's harsh grip on her hips made it difficult for her to swivel and attempt to pull him in deeper to reach his climax. So, she resorted to begging for his seed, pleading with him to fill her to the brim.

With one last thrust, Faola captured her lips and growled into her mouth, swallowing her sobs of pleasure as quick sparks shot throughout every fabric of her being. His energy near spent, he picked her up gently without pulling out and situated himself in her chair so he wouldn't crush her. "Pleased, my lady?" he asked her in a hushed tone and gently brushed her curling tendrils out of her face. "As always, my love."

She leaned down to gently kiss his lips, the two interrupted by an abrupt ring of her phone. Huffing in annoyance, she reached over and and answered the call. Slowly, her jaw clenched as the caller continued to speak. "Fine. We'll be on our way," Ohana stiffly replied and ended the call. "What is it?" Faola looked into her eyes with concern. Ohana breathed deeply.

"We need to get to Eshala as soon as possible."

[honestsycrets]

Locked In I

Gif Credit: Mine.

Warnings

Dark!Hvitserk

Alpha!Hvitserk

Violence

Death

Kidnapping

A/N: There will only be one more chapter of pure smuts.

Too many years working in the NICU left you with a need for an escape. There were too many parents going back home to an empty nest, too many tears and ugh, you were done! You needed to do something new. So obviously, the choice wasn’t going to step down or even an observation unit. Shit no, you had decided to go to the one place most nurses would not dream of going.

“Morning (Y/N)!” A prisoner gave you a howling whistle from around the large, grey bin. You sigh, strolling on past them with neat and pressed scrubs as grey as the bin they were loading with sets of clothes that smelled all too male. You should have worked at a goddamn female prison.

“Morning boys.”

Six months working at this maximum-security federal prison and you got real used to their bullshit. You refused the oversized puffy jacket at the expense of the wandering eyes of men. Your non-slip sneakers bounce over the cement floors to your wing of the prison in toward the many beds that were littered about for cases demanding your and other nurse’s medical attention.

“He isn’t here yet?” You say, bringing back the heavy box of jiggling fluids. You hand it off to one of the other nurses who only answers with a shake of his head.

“He’s waiting in the room.”

Walking into the room, you can all but feel the tension like tight strings about your neck. The dark haired guard darkens the corner of the room with his hand on the utility belt about his hips. On the sole medical bed in the room, a willowy man sits. His long limbs rest boredly in his lap as he curls over himself, looking over his shoulder as you cheerfully address the guard.

“Good morning Jessen!” You say, far too sweetly for the gloom and doom guard that kept his place. He grunts in response, flicking his head in the direction of the inmate upon the crinkling paper covering of the bed. The young man turns his head up to look at you, his hair matted with dark, irony substance. You move over in a swish of your ponytail, dragging up your stool to him with a metal pull up tray of items. Your computer flashes to light.

“Hi there! I’m (Y/N)!” You say far too cheerfully, shaking your mouse erratically and pulling up the correct tab.

“May I have your number, Mr…” You look over to the clipboard.

“79135-380.” He speaks in an indolent voice, deeper than you were prepared for. You expected a boyish one in place of the deep one that probably have not sounded like an incantation. You tack at the computer, huffing ‘stupid shit’ just so under your breath. He notices it while you turn around, letting the computer load to a new screen.

“You’re the one that was attacked by a Ragnarsson, no?” You ask.

The second the words fall from your lips you know that they are wrong. The boy in front of you bares his teeth, a mouthful of bloody teeth running over his lip. A momentary closer examination tells you although he is bloody, that blood is not his. It’s dry, cracking over his skin like an itchy second skin.

“No.” He purrs, a sound that runs pleasurable vibrations down your spine. “I am Hvitserk Ragnarsson, nurse.”

What had you just said? Your veins seem to run rigid because no blood is returning to supply your heart in that moment. The only Ragnarsson in the facility and you so happened to call him out by name! His sullen eyes snatch yours, threatening you to look away and submit to him. It’s the name of the game. You can’t seem weak. Even being feminine here is a risk. The place reeks of bad-tempered Alphas and meeker Betas. This man smells like he would pop his knot into you, fuck you over the cold floor until your hips broke and leave you there for Doctor Svensen to find.

“Ahem.” The guard sweeps over the room, knocking Hvitserk with his elbow to break his eye lock. Hvitserk nearly snaps his jaws off at the guard and so you reach for the correct tools to stitch his cracked wound dripping blood over his limpid eyes. You’ve done this a hundred times over the past few months. Standing in front of Hvitserk Ragnarsson, son of the great criminal Ragnar though-- there was little like it.

“Your heat… is comin’ up.” Hvitserk states. “Your pussy smells sweeter than lollipops.”

You wish you could erase the excitement that brews between your legs, banish the thoughts from your mind as you work on perfecting these stitches as soon as you can. “Watch your mouth.” The guard says. Hvitserk’s lips shut, flicking his eyebrows up to your discomfort. The pain of applying the stitches in do not even phase him. Only after finishing do you inspect the rest of his body. Compared to the man on the receiving end of the Ragnarsson rage, Hvitserk bares nothing more but light bruises.

Unfortunately, his counterpart didn’t quite see the light beyond the tunnel when he went into surgery himself. It happened far too often when Alphas were corralled and forced together in prison in such away. They… went under cabin fever.

“I’ll see him back to remove the them.” You clean your hands, moving away from the Ragnarsson whose eyes never leave the tightness of your scrubs to the back of your ass. You feel him watching you clean yourself up until the guard jerks Hvitserk to stand, shoving him by the black t-shirt plastered with fat, white logo across his back. They shove to the door and you can’t deny yourself the last pleasure of seeing him one last time. As he slips out of the door, your hand is at your chest. This isn’t the first time that an alpha has gotten to you. He smelled it on you like a true breeder. One of those awful men that went feral and chased the innocent public to breed and prosper his line.

“You doing okay there, (Y/N)?” An older nurse, Dagny, stands in the entrance of the room. You look to your bloodied paper sheet that needs to be cleaned.

“I don’t know.” You say truthfully. “He… he scares me.”

“He should.” Dagny comes closer, her black hair rolled up in an elaborate updo on the back of her head. “That boy is no good.”

Well, you were in a prison. What did you think they were in here for? Stealing the last bit of bread on Christmas morning? Sexual attraction gave no shits what you felt was morally correct. The only thing your cunt cared about was what was under his clothes. Damn, you needed a lay.

“He’s all wound up in his Dad’s business. Dealer, breeder, loan shark, murderer. Boys like that get euthanized around here.” Dagny sits down on the stool, her round body rolling back and forward while you fetch the gloves to clean up the mess left behind by the Ragnarsson. You tuck a piece of hair that you left out of your ponytail behind your pierced ear.

“Sounds like my kinda man Dagny! I think need a lay before I’m out all week in my room.” You laugh. Dagny shares in your amusement, rolling her hand around your back as she rises up.

“Go out to the bar and catch a stud.” She encourages.

“Shit yeah, cirrhosis and hepatomegaly? Count me in!”

You both laugh.

Twenty five to life, they told him.

His basketball bounces off his hand with a repetitive thump, evading his only company. Harald lurches for him only for Hvitserk to abruptly yank to the other side, shooting his orange ball into the hoop.

Twenty five years to think about his choices, the judge said.

It was something about tying a perfectly good body to a hot water heater to watch him squirm and making him choke on his gun before blasting him to bits. To be honest, he didn’t even really remember the face.

He only remembered the fact that the loan with an incredulous amount of interest was not paid off. So he did the guy a favour. He didn’t jack his wife, na. She had a face like someone took a steaming iron to it. Stealing kids wasn’t his thing either-- poor fucks didn’t have a choice in what idiot they were born to. The only one to pay this time was the debtor. It was nothing personal, it was cold hard business. That was exactly what the prosecution played off of.

“Hvit.” His co-defendant, Harald, calls out to him. As he snaps to attention, he realizes a fight burst in the court a few over. Instead of one, two rival gangs duke it out with fist and shank both. Blood squirts over the cement floor underneath mass produced white sneakers. Hvitserk’s lips pull in a wry smile, hand underneath the crotch of his black pants. The older man stops beside him as guards filter out into the court only to receive members of the gangs jumping them too. One such guard catches the door, a mischievous smile against his trim beard. They wait for the guards from the towers to come help their fallen brothers in arms before darting out for the open door. Harald keeps an even jog with him inside the main halls of the prison.

“Let’s go get that bitch you were talking about.”

You’re not exactly sure what happened. At one point, you were speaking to Doctor Svensen and Dagny about your leave starting the next day. No omega wanted to smear their sweet, fertile juices over a place like this. The men were easily roused. The next moment the door was met with a repetitive thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

“It’s Jensen.” Doctor Svensen says. On the other side of the door, the guard stood. The doctor stood up from where you were placing limpid viles of insulin away in a tiny refrigerator, humming to the thump of Mad World beating on your bluetooth. Then suddenly, your music is drowned out by the sound of the strain of sneakers sliding across the white tiles.

“You can’t be in here!”

“Dagny!” Doctor Svensen repeats over and over as if it could help. There’s a loud pop that rings your ear drums, causing you to drop viles from your trembling fingertips that have gone all but white. Another pop has your body dropping with limbs like the cheap gelatin offered in the commissary for triple the price. You damn your omega response causing you to go catatonic. Your eardrums ring and instead are filled with the shushing of limp weight being dragged across the floor.

“Ha-ha! There you are.” You recognize the first voice as belonging to the man you saw only a few days prior, swaying to stand in front of you. You can’t look to the side of him-- you’re too scared to. “Help him move them, uncle. I have what I want right here!”

Hvitserk drops down to kneel in front of you, jerking you clean off the floor by the neck of your scrubs. Finally surfacing on two feet you realize-- quickly so-- that those are bodies they drag with gloves into the utility closet. Hvitserk is far busier shoving you to stand. He yanks your scrubs over your ass to grab a palm full of lace and flesh before alternating appreciatively toward your tits.

“I fuckin’ love omegas. Fuckin’ perky fuckable things.” He leans down, smacking your breast with his palm. In utter humiliation, you feel as if your legs can’t move. Perhaps its the paralyzing fear filling your bones that you might also end up like Dagny and Doctor Svensen whom are now in the closet. He shoves you by your elbow towards Rollo. He thrusts you in his direction while taking fresh guard uniforms Rollo brought in with him.

“Scream and I’ll kill you.” Rollo whispers in your ear, tucking a piece of hair away from your neck. The prisoners emerge in new uniform, handcuff your arms behind your back and make their way out of the hospital wing and out of the nearest exit. If only you had a voice to scream, you would have. The second you hit fresh air, your knees give out in protest. Beyond the three gates-- a black convertible sits curbside. You don’t want to go, you don’t want to go, you don’t want to go.

“Let me go!” You whine, looking from one of the guard towers to the other. The guards inside look out toward the courtyard where the normal prisoners argue. It’s blaringly clear that they are on a time limit-- one that you could very easily fuck up.

“Pick her up!” Harald orders under your sharp wail. Rollo shoves his meaty fingers into your mouth, snuffing out your scream while running through one of the many gates leading out into the alternative gate. Despite your teeth grinding down on his fat digits, they breach the final gate with your ID. Hvitserk rips open the door to the dark car. They hunker down into the car, Rollo shoving you a little harder than necessary inside. Hvitserk slides in behind you, yanking the back of your scrub top to yank you onto his lap. Rollo slides into the front seat by the driver.

“Took long enough.” The older man says kicking the car into reverse, breaking from a line of parallel parked cars. The top of his head cropped short, not at all matching a wily salt and pepper beard on his chin.

“Sorry Dad.”

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok (no mix), @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @concretewaywardangel, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @Kirah34, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @mixedwiththemoon, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @titty-teetee, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @piebytheocean, @strangunddurm, @atequila, @rekdreams247, @justacrush, @ivarswonderlust, @peachesnpisces, @elenawrit, @equalstrashflavoredtrash, @roxxck, @dylanowhyyien, @ilvebeenabad, @vikingsmania, @huntingbears, @My-Little-Wolfe, @seize-the-droid, @Certifiedpoison, @hotshotstar, @deans–chevy–baby, @moondustmemories, @colourmeinblue, @ilvebeenabad, @squirtleandeeveearethebest, @rubyquartzshades, @queenmissfit, @calaena-banrion, @hallowed-heathen, @Kirah34, @lulura, @looneytunes20033, @Imamom-makingadifference, @sunlightdaniel, @neeadinghugs, @Funmadnessbadassvikings, @mblaqgi, @Natmors, @triumphantreturnofpies, @dmv49, @imavulcanatheart, @attorneyl, @nina2697, @iconicvaleria, @lovelynerdytraveler, @tierneygonzalez, @zabee113, @meganjudee, @nininstinct, @sdcyumyum, @ms-allenbrown, @pancake-blonde, @ivarswickedqueen, @starkiddreamer, @Orange Darko @austenkingmylady, @thisisparadisemylove, @pinkrockstar19, @jeowjungkook, @threewintersoldiers, @end-of-night, @yaminax-kuss-a , @gruffle1, @arses21434@natalie-rdr, @tempt-ress, @Sirena-wesker, @thevikingsheaux, @poisonedjoinery, @smokealone, @chewythecatus, @glopsifum, @laughinglikenialler, @lefrenchfrye, @she-walks-in-the-moonlight, @mybarnesmyhero, @vengefulflange, @imcreepininyourheartbabe, @therealmrshale, @that-goodgirl, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @athroatfullofglass justrepostandlove

[purple-compromise]

TiWWaN Interludes

Chapter 30-31 Revisit [Medic] on AO3

A revisit to Chapters 29-31, following some of what Medic was doing between the 29.5 interlude where Spy tells Medic what happened and when he finds her in a fist-fight with her double in 31. I'd suggest just looking over the end of 29-31 to remember what's going on, but it's not necessary.

Basic rundown: end of 29, Specialist gets tortured by BLU Spy until RED Spy shows up. 29.5 Interlude, Spy tells Medic what BLU Spy did. 30, Specialist respawns and ends up taking buckshot to the back so Engie bandages her up. 31, Specialist gets in a knock-down, drag-out fight with BLU Spesh while injured.

Without further ado:

------

The alley is narrow, a space just wide enough for one man to pass through, pressed tightly on either side by rough-cut timber and scorching aluminum, far off the course of battle, where gunshots only echo between storage sheds and dusty soil. He darts in, making no effort to hide the fact, knowing full well there is no room to maneuver, that he can be cornered and killed in an instant. Only someone looking to get stabbed in the back would do something so stupid.

Fortunately, that's exactly what Medic has in mind.

Only four paces in, he braces his back against a wall, pack scraping against the wood, syringe gun clutched in one hand.

“I know you're here…” he calls to the empty air, “Why don't you come out so we can have a chat, man to man, hm?”

There’s an amused snort, but it echoes between the sheds, impossible to pinpoint. “As only one of us can be called a man, I find I'm quite comfortable as we are. Unless, of course, you'd like to turn around?”

“You could have shot me already, if you really cared to kill me.” Medic’s lips curl into a smirk. His eyes sweep the shadows and sand. “Still… no, I don't think so.”

“Pity.” The spicy scent of smoke laces the air. “I could have, yes--and I still can. The only thing staying my hand is the fact that even you wouldn't have done something so inane without a reason. And I confess my curiosity. What is it you want?”

“I came to inform you that your score with the Specialist is settled. Anything you want to say to me can be… delivered directly.”

“Oh, she’s come crying to you already? You, of everyone, ought to know the silly bitch deserved exactly what she got.”

“I was… otherwise informed.” The doctor’s thumb traces the roulette, each new syringe sliding into place with a click. “You and I both know you wouldn’t have played so long unless you wanted me to notice. Gasping and begging for death that doesn’t come? Hardly the work of an assassin.”

A hiss of breath, slow, that could only have been made through curved and smiling lips. “Shall I assume you received my message, after all?”

Medic’s brow creases. Now that is interesting. “You actually told her?” He wets his lips, searches the ground again for even the faintest impression of a footprint. A mocking lilt creeps into his voice with the click, click, click of each syringe. “I’m surprised you felt such a need to air your fears that you’d drag someone else into our little game.”

“I’d do it again,” the voice snarls. “And I’ll do it as many times as it takes to get you to understand your actions have consequences, fils de pute.”

His pulse races a little faster, eyes searching, still searching. “Name-calling already, after I went out of my way to give you a friendly warning?”

“Your friendliness is worth no more than your hospitality.”

A feral grin lifts the edges of Medic’s lips. “Then we have no problem understanding one another,” he says pleasantly. “You keep your little vendetta with me away from the Specialist--”

“Or what?”

“Or you end up like my counterpart. You know very, very well how… unpleasant I can make things for you.”

“Not as unpleasant as I’ll make them for you.”

“Promises, promises,” he sings.

---

Medic stumbles across the concrete floor until he catches himself on the nearest wall, already laughing before he’s taken stock of the electricity charging through his body. The coward didn’t even show himself before firing. Made no challenge, enacted no painful demise. No, the spy won’t be trouble anymore. Men are dangerous when afraid; cowards, not so. And he knows Medic made no bluff. Not just anyone has the power to destroy the body over and over and over and over again. Not just anyone can execute real torture.

Triumphant, letting the last peals of laughter echo through respawn, he races back to the battlefield--only to be stopped at Engineer’s nest of sentries as the man waves him down.

“What?”

“Specialist’s been lookin’ for you,” he says, and Medic can’t fight the irritation that rises as he wonders what the hell she could have gotten herself into now. “Took a shotgun blast to the back and I cleaned it up, but--”

“Ja, all right. Thank you.” And he’s off again, calling through the radio channel. She doesn’t answer, of course, but Sniper knows which way she went. Down an alley toward the next point--either where she assumed he would be, supporting the charge, or running headlong into duty without a second thought. He’s plenty accustomed to men who refuse to ask help because they think it would make them seem weak, but for the Specialist, it’s almost as though the thought of asking doesn’t even occur to her. Well, the others broke their habits; she’ll have to do the same, maybe with a shove in the right--

Oh.

Upon turning the corner between a low wall and shed, there she is:

Coat abandoned, shirt hanging in ragged, bloody tassels, open to expose scarlet-stained linen wrapped around her torso. Muscle dances under her skin, face contorted in a snarl of rage, striped in burns and blood like a warring beast, teeth bared, holding her double down in the sand.

Oh, indeed.

The specialist drives her elbow down into the BLU’s temple, and her hand searches for the pistol on her thigh, nearly closes around it--but the other snaps her fist into a blow to the chin.

“Get the hell off me!”

Suddenly, the positions are flipped, and neither has noticed him.

Crack.

That’s a broken nose, and Specialist hisses, gasps, fingers still scrambling for a gun she knows she won’t find in time--

Yes, that’s quite enough. Medic readies the medigun, and watches carefully as both the healing energy and slow realization wash over her face.

Her lips curl into a shameless, wicked grin. And then, she’s moving, delivering a strike under the BLU’s chin, sending the double reeling back into the sand at his feet. Before the other can recover a weapon, the specialist is standing tall, proud, manic, as closes one hand around her double’s collar and yanks her up.

His mouth goes a little dry.

Then, just as the BLU rights her head, the edge of the specialist’s palm lashes out against her neck, resulting in a horrible, whistling wheeze.

Crushed esophagus. Medic wets his lips, does not move.

Carelessly, the double is dropped back to the orange dirt, writhing, scuffed boots lashing out blindly. But the specialist--her hands find the howdah pistol and take aim. Sunlight gleams on gunmetal, on the blood still staining her face, glistening on the skin of her shoulders that still shows through the tattered scarlet tassels of her shirt.

BANG.

Her eyes trace the beam of energy back to the medi-gun, to him.

“Medic.”

He isn’t sure what to say, watching a crimson drop of blood run down her skin.

“Thank you.”

He thinks he murmurs something like assent; it isn’t as though he did anything but return her to her natural state. The rest… that was all hers.

The blood makes its way over her lips before she wipes it on the back of a ruined sleeve, and scrubs at the rest over her nose and cheeks.

Medic blinks. “I had heard you needed healing, but it seems you were doing quite well.”  

“Something like that.”

He tries for a chuckle, but it seems his throat has gone dry. “Vell, I won’t say my intercession wasn’t… timely.”

The specialist bends to retrieve her Gyrojet and the shirt falls completely open across her back. “I can’t argue that.” He can see the play of muscle where the blood-soaked bandages don’t touch, can name every one that gave her the power to lift her double in one hand, and each that played a role in crushing her throat.

When Specialist rights herself, he tries not to meet her gaze, fixing his eyes on the single fleck of dried blood she missed, there on her cheek. “I’m rather close to having enough energy for über… zhe damage was somewhat extensive,” he says. Now that, that would complete the day. He hasn’t done enough, not yet, not with all this potential. His hand plays along the medigun. “Shall we continue, Specialist?”

She unbuckles her shield from her belt. “Yes. Final point?”

“Jawohl.” He smiles.

[minteagalaxea]

Abyssal | Wang Ziyi

ziyi and xue

genre: a solid amount of angst, that one steamy bit

word count: 6.25k

inspiration: beach trips

after all, a siren always led a sailor to his death.

note: still trying to figure out formatting, but yeah. it’s messy as fuck.

He grew up in the palace, surrounded by political intrigue, perfection the only expectation of him, hence, freedom was a wish he could only yearn for. He smelled of leather, fresh parchment, crushed velvet, of musk, a culmination of odd, yet enticing scents. The young gentleman spoke with a gentle timbre, proses of literary classics pouring from his lips in a thoughtful, wistful fervor, the tunes of particular songs escaping his lips during a state of contentment; however, the naive genteel he possessed seemed almost a dream, for his true persona realized itself with specially sharpened canines, feral in an interestingly refined style.

She grew up a product of the unforgivable, the unrealized, the unfathomable. Raised with half of a mother, no father, and a brother that understood as much about the world as she did, she dreamed of belonging, in a place where such thoughts remained unacceptable. The scent of ocean water, bitter mint, and soft silk chiffon wafted from her figure, softer fragrances, though she held a vicious killer instinct, a fact she hid from everyone in her surroundings.

Lin Xue and Lin Yanjun were accepted by a kind Hamadryad, mentoring the siblings in the craft of woodsmithery, where the sister discovered a proclivity in creating beautiful paddleboards and surfboards, and the brother found solace in creating windchimes and other decorative pieces. Every evening, the siblings settled to drag their mentor-slash-caretaker-slash-secondary-parent with them to the ocean, each carrying paddleboards to the shore. Despite the adamant refusal of Yue Yue, their caretaker, their nightly tradition persisted—mainly because they agreed that Xue's smile was the prettiest, especially with the moonlight gracing her features, making her seem more ethereal, yet lethal, with her smart mouth and cruel teeth.

Prince Wang Ziyi recalled first meeting the siblings during the morning market, ironic for his particular species, hence the umbrella he carried with him to protect the sun from scorching him. He admired the intricate carvings on the paddleboards and windchimes organized neatly, each piece characteristic to its maker and their preferences. The young boy took an interest in an ebony racing paddleboard, the deck engraved with an uneven chevron pattern, alternating between an icy mint, pale grey, and white. The paddle itself was the same, certain parts of the shaft painted in a more equilateral chevron pattern, flowing into a part of the blade.

"How much to purchase this paddleboard?" he requested, secretly placing his compelling ability to use, presuming Yue Yue, the more talkative of the trio, would answer; however, a harsher voice responded, his power purportedly ineffective against her.

"It is not for purchase, sir."

Subsequently showing the underside of the paddleboard, her name—Lin Xue—painted with stunning calligraphy in the front of the board. She returned to her workspace, finishing the minuscule details on the all-around paddleboard requested of her, carving out the name of the purchaser, painting it black, before varnishing it with lacquer, allowing it to shine. The prince watched her perform her task, enthralled by her movement, intrigued by her brother's smile at a Naiad, who handled the transaction, though Ziyi didn't question it as the other male's flirtatious glance towards the customer had the desired effect, the girl turning into a blushing mess, while Xue elicited a giggle.

"Yanjun, might you stop attempting to compel Jingyi to allow you to court her?" Yue Yue questioned, despite the laughter.

"See if I ever help you with Bu Fan, then, if you continue to speak in that tone," Yanjun snapped, seemingly playfully, yet Ziyi recognized from the undertones of his quip, he wasn't entirely joking.

"Zhenyang is still utterly perplexed at why you even have romantic feelings for a literal man-child—actually, dog-child," Xue chimed, earning a pout from her mentor, before averting her attention back to the prince in front of her. Motioning him towards her, the girl began to write a compilation of details she understood he wanted, coming to a realization that the person in front of her didn't know the various classifications of paddleboard and surfboard, yet typed out the specifications he requested, telling him to come back the following morning to pay her and receive his board.

"Might you need my name?" Ziyi inquired.

"I assume I should already know the name of the future king?" Xue countered, bending over the table to meet him eye-to-eye with dizzying proximity, it seemed intoxicating to the prince. Pulling away, the girl delved into the register, before grabbing a faded peach sweater, almost to shroud something she didn't want others to see.

Xue meandered around the market, eyeing the artisanal pieces of jewelry and apothecary-esque goods that felt more of a luxury than a necessity, though, she resorted to purchasing various teas and a small parcel of herbs, occasionally haggling for a lower price for anything remotely expensive. "I thought your body hated the sunlight?" an inquiring voice wondered aloud, Xue turning her figure to see Zhenyang, a close friend, with a dopey grin plastered on his face.

"My body dislikes the sun; hence, I can stay out in the radiating sun without experiencing an irritating death, Oceanid," she retorted, a shadow of a smile crossing her face as soon as it came, doe-like eyes gentle, yet impish. Zhenyang's own doesn't fade into obscurity, in fact, widening as he strode towards her, modelesque in his style of a walk—Li Zhenyang was regarded as the most handsome Oceanid on the island, and he exploited that knowledge as he deemed it necessary, traditionally in conjunction with his friend's antics.

Xue groaned in mock-annoyance at the sight of her closest friend grabbing her belongings to carry back to her home, realizing the ulterior motive of the action. Simultaneously, the girl frowned with her friend, whose attention seemed more on her exposed skin rather than herself as a whole; Zhenyang being worried felt to be an understatement. "Lin Xue, remind me of the last time you dove into the ocean?" he inquired, the abrasiveness in his tone predominant, only succeeded by concern, "Your scales are showing even more than usual, Xue, and I don't think it's healthy for you to be so negligent of your health."

"Pain is weakness leaving the body: Yanjun always told me that and seeing as I still am standing, in what constitutes perfect condition, it should mean something, no?" she mused, her voice a hybrid of perpetual annoyance and insatiable exhaustion. Zhenyang settled to not speak further about the matter, in hopes of not angering her, while also to not remind her of the compilation of her near-death horrors, which occurred on one-too-many occasions that neither of them wanted to recall.

The evening sky scared the nymphs, most of whom inhabited the village Xue resided in, mostly due to their unabashed fear—or hatred, Xue conjectured the former—for the aristocracy of their society: vampires; brash, arrogant, and sadistic, a majority enjoyed humiliated their societal underlings. Though unlike a majority of her nymph-like counterparts, Xue chose to heed no mind towards the supposed superiors, understanding that if she managed to not attract attention from them, they would have no intention of disrupting her existence. The paddleboard incident, as Xue often referred to it, affected how she intended to live the rest of her immortal life on the island, lest she wasn't executed for whatever blasphemous crime she committed that evidently was made up to spite the working class.

Moonlight basked over the girl, her paddleboard close to her frame as her bare trekked across the warm sand, a gentle smile on her face as she heard her brother rush over towards her, claiming, "You are a terrible sister, Lin Xue," in mock offense.

"I know, Yanjun," she responded, a sense of insouciance in her tone as they began to paddle out to a cove some reasonable distance away from the island, neither of them speaking a word as they opted to find solace in the waves of the ocean and moonwake, the midnight shade shining from the light. The tenalach the siblings shared with the body of water appeared unique to them, characteristic to their nature—nymphs had their own genetic bond towards the sea, but they were different. Their relationship with the ocean seemed more turbulent, more connected to the water than their nymph counterparts, perhaps due to their peculiar bond.

Nestled snugly into the cove, their apparatuses slightly knocking into the rocks as the siblings sat on the paddleboards, staring at the glow of the glimmering sea with a wistful expression. "Do you ever wonder how our lives might occur if we were born normal?" Xue mused gently, her eyes forlorn as her legs gracefully swung in repetitive motion.

"We have no prophecy, my dearest sister, though, I believe our lives would, inevitably, be more mundane, yet perhaps more limitless; nothing would hinder us from having and retaining a sense of normalcy in our existences," he answered, sentimentality pervading the response.

"Do you ever believe that perhaps one day, our curse might be lifted?" Xue wondered aloud, eyes flitting from the pristine white moon to their legs, liltingly combatting with each other as they sloshed against the tide.

"I suppose we sinned in the life prior, which earned us an eternity of suffering," Yanjun explained, "Had we no immortality, this supposed punishment of ours might have ended now."

"Do you ever wish your trajectory could be different than this; imagine how vastly different our decisions would be if we were only one species?" the sister suggested, her figure sliding from her board and into the ocean, giggling as her brother proceeded to accompany her in the water as she adapted to her new terrain. Prodding and poking and kicking each other with tender affection, the siblings enjoyed the period of peace and insouciance, savoring it for the moment, until the various ringing of the village bell; the siblings rushed back to the cove, rapidly paddleboarding back to shore to avoid capturing attention. Unbeknownst to them, however, they had already earned scrutiny of a particular vampire.

The following day, Ziyi returned to the market, staring at the girl wrap up his board and accommodating paddle, before stating the price of the paddleboard: one hundred gold pieces, with no opportunity for the royal to compel her to discount the cost. Handing her the coins, she checked its worth, before placing it into the register; however, Ziyi observed the subtleties of her pain and the lack of her sibling, arousing suspicion, but chose to not interrogate her regarding her private affairs. Minghui sent the girl concerned glances, though she paid no heed towards them, averting her attention towards escaping the patronizing eyes of her second parent, grabbing her sweater and stumbling outside towards the market with withering posture. Ziyi proceeded to leave the market, returning to his palace and life of luxury, blissfully unaware of the events predestined to follow.

Wang Ziyi held a penchant for explorations, conducting interkingdom trade and forging relationships for the mutual benefits of both kingdoms—other instances, the prince had a passion for joyriding his ship, The Stellamaria. The young man stood on the bow, staring off into the distance, however, the sight of an individual he recognized to be Lin Xue staggering (crawling, really) up a cliff, tossing herself into the ocean.

Perhaps his curiosity overcame him, as he removed the heavier garments of his attire, leaping into the ocean, in a futile attempt to appease his curiosity; underwater, Xue thrashed violently, clawing at her skin, and a fretful Ziyi touched her shoulder, resulting in a series of catastrophic events.

The prince understood a reaction was imminent, but he expected a less...violence, let alone a screech that pierced the vampire's acute hearing—alongside the scream, Ziyi's face became marred with the girl's precisely sharp fingers, rendering him unconscious from the impact of her strikes. She was haunting, with a white tail graduating into an icy mint, two silk-like ribbons furling from the middle of her tail, the ends webbing together in similarity to a fae's wings; her usual silver eyes burned away into a crystalline mint, seeming colder in a way. It remained the final thing he saw before his vision into obscurity as she forcefully swam away.

Xue could only comprehend the concept of pain, the signs of dehydration prevalent the morning after her heart-to-heart conversation with her brother, who disappeared, though the sister knew his location. Exerting all of her energy to propel herself from her resting place, observing the evening sunset, as she felt the rays tingle against her skin in discomfort; draping a beige cardigan over her stature. Aligning her weight onto a wooden staff, the girl hobbled over towards the Cliff, as the inhabitants monikered it, given the rocky terrain of the coastal region, Makai, in comparison to Mauka, the palace region of Mahele—however, her wooden staff snapped from the force of her vice-like grip. Successfully reaching the Cliff, Xue tumbled into the ocean, a scream eliciting from her lips when the water reacted to her dehydrated state, her body beginning to destroy itself, realigning her bones, skin, and muscle to ensure her survival; it started with her fingers, her skin adapting for aquatic survival, followed by her spine, extruding fins. Xue's tail, the most painful part of her transformation, as the lower part of her body destroyed itself to guarantee her life.

She elicited a scream as her transition began, her body deforming, her skin feeling as if it had been set on fire, her eyes especially, as the striking silver tone incinerated into the trademark mint eyes most deepsea sirens held. Halfway through her metamorphosis, somebody touched her shoulder—instantaneously, Xue released a deafening screech, succeeded by various scratches with her newly formed claws, causing her to relieve her mind from the pain temporarily, only for it to return as her legs fused together, her bones and muscles reconfiguring to create her tail. Cruelly, she swam away, allowing the boy to die—in necessity—for her security.

Ziyi woke up, eyes flickering around to find a commonality of location; his bedroom was dimly lit, warm red lights and the scent of leather and smoke perfunctory to him. He observed the various salves and poultices littering his form, a bandage on his forehead the most notable of his sustained injuries. According to the doctor, the prince obtained a multitude of painful wounds, of which the doctor instructed rest and recuperation under the pretense of healing. Sending in an attendant, he requested Lord Zhou's presence in his chambers, impassive upon the noble's arrival, necessitating information on sirens ("for research and further understanding" as he worded it), acquiring the tale from the lord regarding his children.

"Sirens are sentient beings; however, modern conceptualizations state otherwise, but yes, they understand feelings, albeit their spectrum of emotions is limited to that of another species. Part of that spurns from their territorial nature, which does not vary by living terrain—most of my personal experiences came from a deepsea-arctic siren, a culmination of the most dangerous iterations of sirens, and are highly skilled in the art of skullduggery.

"I first met her when I explored the deep sea, which is quite cold in Makai with the various frozen zones of the island. She was hunting, and I heard her sing, and automatically, I fell for her. Perhaps part of me was selfish, as I compelled her to visit me on land, and she ended up bearing a son, followed by a daughter. However, I married Lady Guang and had Meiji, which perhaps hurt her—I suppose it was that reason she chose not to disclose the mater, and, consequently, my children, justifiably, despise me for what I did to their mother, who raised them, and I have never met them.

"I suggest you heed with caution if you ever encounter them, Your Highness, as their abilities are much more potent, a fusion of their precursor's unique powers, hence they will not hesitate to attack if, and when, provoked—I have no doubt they are beautiful, enchanting even, though they will kill for survival or entertainment, whichever they choose."

Bidding his farewell, Lord Zhou departed from the prince's chambers, allowing him to cogitate over his newfound information and the most effective means of utilizing it. Resolutely, Ziyi traipsed to the library, scavenging for anthologies and compilations of works regarding sirens, scarce in comparison to other literary pieces glorifying vampires. Through the Baroque-esque window, the prince caught sight of tidal waves crashing against the rocky coast of Makai, a luxury Mauka experienced without having to fear for potential property or physical damage. The natural violence enchanted Ziyi, finding solace in the sound as he pored over the proses of literature.

Two creatures fervently propelled against the water, predators in a sea bountiful of prey, as they hunted for, quote-unquote, dessert, spying on a small school of fish by the benthic region of the sea, their nimble fingers gripping onto a piece of fish, effectively decapitating its head from the rest of the body. Naturally, their bodies rushed back to their cove, dining on their meal absentmindedly, tails gradually increasing in speed in a jocular attempt of a race.

"Yanjun, heed with caution as you enter the cave," a motherly voice chided, the oceanic vernacular heavy in her speech and diction.

"Mother, despite his height, I assume my brother can majestically traipse into the cave without much effort," Xue noted smartly, her vocal tone similar to her mother's when speaking vernacular.

"Always a sarcast, Xue—you never let mother have her fun," Yanjun mocked jocularly, earning an equally playful snarl from his sister.

"You have no right to act high and mighty, Lin Yanjun, especially when I keep seeing you flirt with a mermaid." The brother glared at his sister, who could only send him a cruel smile as he proceeded to punch her arm out of annoyance; however, the sun rays pierced their near-indestructible skin, the siblings hissing in consequence to the reaction.

"Already, it has begun," their mother whispered forlornly, "Even though you are my children, you never belonged to me, have you?" Yanjun and Xue couldn't respond, only staring at the illecebrous ocean out of curiosity and wistfulness.

"Mother, fretting about it does no good," Xue murmured, a period of silence preceding the chosen words, "This is enough for us."

Perhaps a week later, Ziyi remained cautious, yet curious regarding the pair of peculiar siblings, as he hadn't caught sight of the brunette and blond; the prince noticed the brunette gazing at him with an outlandish expression. The prince, however, couldn't find the blond, though, he chose not to ask about her presence, wary of the answers he might receive, yet the impavid aspect of his character wished to inquire about the enigmatic paddleboard maker.

The royal dined with his family, attempting to avoid the prattle of his impending marriage—a ball was to be held the proceeding evening, with ladies from various kingdoms attending to become his betrothed. However, Ziyi prayed he could escape the dinner as soon as possible to watch the sunset low-tide. The Baroque window in the library provided him a stunning view of the brunette woodsmith conversing with a nymph before proceeding to paddle into the ocean with his hands, tentatively standing to crash onto the waves easily, deftly.

Trekking out to the beach at its midnight high tide, Wang Ziyi attempted to stealthily follow Yanjun, who exchanged his surfboard for a paddleboard, out into the seas, endeavoring to mimic the motions the elder initiated. Against the high tide, the elder sped up, movement remaining calm, yet containing undertones of a franticness as he strove to reach a particular location in a specific amount of time. The royal, with considerably less exposure to the water than the Makai native, struggled to maintain a strong following, as even his vampiric speed proved futile against the other's affinity for water and superior speed; eventually, the movement seemed routine. Reaching a cave a ways from Mahele, the prince heard a piercing screech, rushing to the source of the sound, appalled at the sight of a siren with light seafoam skin mutating, her figure contorting and the dissonant of bones breaking resonating in the cave.

Temporarily, Ziyi overlooked the warning Lord Zhou bestowed upon him, haplessly touching the siren (despite understanding the repercussions of his actions fully)—the siren opened his old wounds, reestablishing their bleeding and open scars, and producing fresh ones as her claws scratched various parts of his face, her tail-slash-legs pushing the young man off the ledge and into the deep. However, Ziyi returned to land rapidly, wincing as his accelerated healing entered, and from peripheral vision, noticed Yanjun rushing towards his sister with blinding speed after the transformation completed itself—Xue's frame shook, exhausted and lightheaded as she forced herself to dress into a bikini top and shorts.

"Zhenyang brought your paddleboard over," Yanjun informed, "Where is your staff?"

"My grip broke it when I was on The Cliff," Xue answered softly, "You understand remarkably well how our beautifully erroneous strength has its...idiosyncratic malfunctions." The girl slowly hobbled towards her paddleboard, stabilizing herself as she and Yanjun paddled the back towards Makai and Mahele, with Ziyi only to follow, interest overcoming him to remove his train of thought from the injuries.

As the sun began to set, Xue felt the accustomed burning tingling on her skin increase into a fiery sensation that overwhelmed her entire being with a precarious vigor. Weakly swimming to the cave, the siren hoisted herself up onto the rock, awaiting her transition back from siren to human (by technicality, not human), wincing as it already begun, her skin breaking to restore its more humanistic attributes—the fins and gills on her back retracted back, her spinal structure realigning itself to adapt to its new landscape. Reminiscent of the week prior, someone placed a hand on her shoulder, almost as if to still herself from flailing about, inciting wounds to reopen or form with her claws, and her tail, which wasn't entirely reverted back to legs, forcefully kicked her supposed attacker into the ocean.

Her tail revamped its formation, finally turning into her legs, compiled of her flukes condensing themselves as the soles of her feet, ribbons contracting into the skin that shielded her femur, fibula, and tibia, both of which reconfigured into individual structures. Finally, the pain ceased to a halt, an indication of her complete metamorphosis, allowing Xue to breathe a sigh of relief, smiling frailly as her brother handed her a swimsuit to dress into, considering her nude state. The girl forced her body to stand on its feet, maneuvering her stature to maintain balance on the paddleboard, strength increasing in correlation with the exhilaration Xue felt returning home against the tide.

Wang Ziyi wandered around the market the following morning, determination coursing through his system as he scoured for the paddleboarding siblings, smiling in relief upon locating their presence. As he approached them with a sense of confidence, the royal stopped in his tracks upon hearing a series of lyrics that seemed foreboding, though he heeded no mind.

"Breathe breathe me in, taste my words, let me blow your mind—I will take you far, far away," a voice sang, soft enough to be undetected, but at a loud enough frequency as to which Ziyi's enhanced hearing could process the melody. Unconsciously, his steps faltered as he neared the girl, seemingly at her mercy, to which he was, unbeknownst to him; Xue leaned up, whispering, "My friend Zhenyang heard about a ball tonight in your honor—is that affirmative?" Mutely, the nod confirmed her question, a twisted smile crossing her face as she resumed her deceptive attack, "Place my brother and me on the guest list for the evening, would you?" Another mute nod later, Xue fluttered a cold breath into his ear, allowing him to revert to reality, effectively breaking out his hazy trance, walking away with a perplexed demeanor.

"Lin Xue, what ephemeral movement did you grace the wretched soul with?" Minghui and Zhenyang inquired in unison, the blond sibling eliciting an inhumanly portentous hiss.

"Had I utilized compulsion upon him in the same fashion I potentially perform it on any creature in this vicinity, perhaps I might not live appropriately long enough to recant the tale," she snarled, administering fear amongst her brother, caretaker, and friend, perching herself delicately on her work table.

"The prince displays various gashes that had only recently healed—enough of a diversion to distract him from the horrific reality of his predicament, thus, placing in effect a deadly combination of a siren song and vampiric compulsion."

"Have I ever told you how much of a genius you are, my sister?" Yanjun asked, a sardonic smirk crossing his lips upon the realization (and subsequent weight) of her actions, to which she reciprocated with a smile of equivalent malice.

His suit was made of luscious red velvet and black leather, various gold embellishments lining the sleeves and other decorum of the jacket; the tailors spared no expense into making him appear sultry and enigmatic, after all, fitting perfectly on his stature. He radiated the scent of musk and smoke, illuminating the nature of his character: confident, charismatic, carnal, as he greeted the ludic partygoers with a gentle disposition, never faltering to conceal his trepidation of even holding such a party, to begin with, had his phantom mask not provided enough of a mystery for any young lady.

Her dress consisted of beige silk chiffon (correctly described as zinnwaldite, according to the merchant selling the textile), reaching the middle of her thighs, the sheer quality exposing the expanse of her arms, legs, neck, and shoulders; a brown mantle shrouded her from the brisk wind billowing towards her and Yanjun. They surveyed the various ships and carriages journeying into Mahele, past Makai, and into Mauka, the siblings trekking their own path up the rocky environment of the border between the two sects of the island. "However much longer, Xue?" Yanjun pardoned, the brother appearing dashing in his black attire, "I understand you want to see the terrain of Mauka as we arrive, yet, at this pace, we will not get far." His response was a blur of wind, spurring him on to rush after her, stopping as they arrived in front of the palace, rushing to don their masks as they stood, waiting to be greeted by the royal family.

Her mask was made of lace, rose gold, brandished from the seven seas' underground, and his own was identical in origin, though stylistically differing from the metalwork of his sister's. The guards interrogated them, to which a sly, "The prince invited us," sufficed for entering the lavishly themed social event. Handing her cloak to an attendant with perkiness at its extremities, the siblings scoured around, shrouding their visibility through brief interactions with others and the lack of familiarity between royals. Having to refuse various offers to dance from other people, Xue grabbed a glass of a substance she was curious about; the girl remained dubious regarding its contents, but after a sip, she came towards a conclusion.

"Is it blood, Xue, or is it wine?" Yanjun wondered, politely declining an offer to dance with an especially flirtatious fae, smiling at the confirmation of the beverage as a fusion of blood and wine, an attempt to satiate the vampires' thirst while accommodating other creatures in the estate.

"Excuse me, sir," a voice beckoned, the pair of siblings craning their necks to notice an older, unmasked gentleman of equal height to the boy, an aged woman perched on his arm, and another woman, brighter, more exuberant, eyed them with an inquiring fervor.  The warm eyes of the boy narrowed into slits, a snarl marring his face as he growled his greeting with a venomous sting—a warning to the ostensible members of the elite class.

"Father." In conjecture, the expression of recognition grew apparent as the once amiable expression contorted into one of horror upon the discovery of the younger's identity.

"Are you aware that in the entirety of my existence, I have only encountered you once? You opted not to watch the growth of your children, instead placing your priority over a child with higher esteem, perhaps for the intention of living a life of luxury and commodity while the woman you corrupted suffers in consequence of your selfish intent—you are a pathetic, spineless, power-hungry monster that deserves all the karma the gods can deliver."

The ladies turned towards the smaller girl, beseeching her aid, to which Xue offered none, her face impassive, discounting the frozen bite of her eyes, meticulously practiced to camouflage into the gala. As the girl proceeded to vacate the unpleasant conversation, she whispered, "Spoiled brat," the cause of a wave of tears to crash down on the younger's face; however, the elder remained unaware, considering she left the vicinity immediately.

"Would you care to dance, milady?" a voice hummed into her ear, almost expecting a bristle in reaction, mildly surprised as her reflexes caught the hand around her to twirl herself around.

"I do not dance, Your Highness," Xue responded with radiating confidence, eyeing the prince with an indescribable expression, scrutinizing her pursuer's sense of fashion (which was rather impeccable, as it always was).

In conjunction with the girl's actions, the person pulled her close to him, his right hand's grip firm on her waist, forcing the masked girl to position her left set of fingers on his shoulder, allowing him to lead her in the waltz. "Had you not made Meiji cry," Ziyi reckoned, "I suppose you might have earned my respect."

"That, I presume, is her own doing—she has as much of a cowardly disposition as my father, to which it is none of your concern," Xue pointedly riposted. The prince mocked hurt at the sharp prick of his partner's fingernails, enough to inflict pain, a crooked smile playing on her lips; in turn, Ziyi intensified his grip against the small of her back, the exposure of her fangs revealing themselves.

"It is my concern because it has a connection with you," Ziyi scorned, wrapping her leg against his waist, Xue placing her other leg up, snaking around the back to hit his skull.

"Perhaps it is so, but since when has your kind placed value on your citizens, on other classifications of creatures that loathe at an equivalent, if not, higher, caliber than that of fear or respect?" As the song concluded, Xue whispered, "I appreciate the invitation, Your Highness, but I think whatever relations previously entailed themselves between us should conclude now, before they complicate even further." With her speed, she slipped away from his sights, the prince joining in her game of cat and mouse, darting through the crowds and other locations of the estate before he snatched her wrist, rushing to her a room and locking the door, leisurely sitting on the edge of his bed.

Ziyi's bedroom was dark, with cherry furnishings and bloodred bedsheets, and a chandelier perched above the center of his bed. In a way, Xue supposed, her assumptions were correct, as the fixtures were correct to her imagination, so, as such, the girl leaned herself against the wall, standing out due to the paler tint of her dress.

"I'm aware of what you and your brother are," Ziyi revealed, his response futile to the girl, whose perceptive abilities rendered that conclusion quicker than his expectations.

"Must I congratulate you on your poor deductive skills, Your Highness?" Xue mocked, "Because I believe everyone managed to place two and two together, especially if that onslaught of words didn't attract the attention of twenty creatures in the ballroom."

"I understand why you hate me, Xue, both you and Yanjun," the prince started, trepidation and numinousness overcoming him as her glare grew deadly, her irises darkening as she sped over to him, fingernails applying pressure to his carotid artery.

"You have five seconds to owe a decent explanation before I decide to slit your throat"—the proximity decreased as she leaned into him threateningly, satisfaction shrouded, but undeniably present as Xue felt the trembles of the prince's heart—"And I believe you are aware I would do it in a heartbeat."

"You think I'm identical to your father, like the rest of my breed of aristocrat vampires," he pursued, attempting to portray a confident persona to his potential murderer, despite her lack of amusement in the matter, "I'm in love with you, Lin Xue."

"Nonsense, Your Highness," Xue riposted, "Falling for someone you met twice, especially when they have nearly succeeded in killing you more than once, seems dangerous." Nevertheless, her claws retracted themselves from his neck; however, the distance between the two didn't dissipate, as his newfangled gaze bored into her soul, the recumbentibus allowing him to hoist the girl onto the bed, allowing her to straddle his lap. Pressing her fingers onto her shoulders as she rose to tower over him, Xue pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was rough, sultry, and frustrated—the vampire prince deducted he was her means of releasing frustration, with him willingly accepting it, reciprocating it even as his fingers skated vertically down her spine. Reactively, Xue whimpered, implementing the opportunity for Ziyi to suckle her bottom lip, the girl's fingers raking through his unbraided locks, untying the mask innately. His lips contained notes of rich wine, while she of fresh flowers and effervescent herbs. In conjecture, the young man performed the same task as he felt around for the silk ribbon that blended itself into her hair, successfully locating it to untie, revealing the blond's silver eyes. Forcefully shrugging his jacket off, Xue proceeded to unbutton his dress shirt as the boy latched his lips onto her neck, a hand coiling behind her neck to untie the bow at the collar of her dress.

"Then, should I prove you wrong?" Ziyi proposed in reply to the comment the girl made—Xue resumed unbuttoning his shirt, her lips leaned against his ear while her fingers roamed as they pleased.

"Prove it," she whispered, providing enough incentive for him to tumble her underneath him, wry, carnal, smiles etched on their faces as Ziyi kissed her once more.

Sunlight wafted through the dark, sheer curtains of the bedroom, the usually uncomfortable sensation tingling the prince's skin, who rose to shut them, only to establish that the blond girl of which he slept with, vanished. Frantically, he searched the boundaries of his sleeping chambers, seeing a case on the bench of his bed. Snatching the tube, he opened the wooden roll to unearth the parchment inside—unrolling its contents, Ziyi read the message intrinsically typed onto the scroll.

My apologies, but I do not repeat history.

Resolutely, he rushed to dress appropriately, determined to find Xue, when a guard entered his bedroom, reporting, "Your Highness, the girl has escaped the palace—Lord Zhou and your parents are working to apprehend her from escaping, and she will be brought in for inquisition alongside her accomplice."

"There will be no need, officer; I will settle this issue with the intruder myself," Ziyi responded, speeding down to Makai, in the hopes of reaching Xue before their parents apprehended the girl. Intuitively, the boy searched at her stand, finding her sanding down a piece of wood, flitting away within a blink, sparking a violent game of chase between the two, as Xue managed to evade his clutches barely, locating creative hiding areas, her small stature advantageous against the taller Ziyi.

As she reached the coastal rocks of Makai, her bare feet grazed one particularly sharp rock, an incision made into the sole of her foot, the line of blood serving as a quote-unquote breadcrumb trail for Ziyi to follow as he came across the path. Inspecting the print, the vampiric noble inhaled the minty, oceanic scent permeating the rock, the fragrance intoxicating him as he resolutely dove into the water, fretfully searching for the probable prisoner of Mauka.

"Xue, go!" Ziyi heard Yanjun's voice boom from the Cliff, Xue rapidly swam to their cove, praying for her safety as she innately sensed someone trailing her—settling for the only option that guaranteed survival, the siren-vampire hybrid dunked her head underwater, the addition of water hindering her speed as she sought to reach the abyssal region of the ocean. As if in conflict with her principles, Ziyi's hand snatched her wrist, pulling her towards him, stunned by the radiating seafoam hue of her irises; pulling her into him, his lips on hers, creating a cadence they understood, the royal bewildered as she parted from him, pressing her feet on his shoulders to propel herself upwards, away from him.

The high tidal waves carrying her back to shore; Yanjun retrieved her staff, a gift from Zhenyang and Minghui, Xue sustaining her weight against the stave, physically and mentally fatigued.

"Why?" the brother wondered with an ominous vigor—the sister recognized the sentiment in his tone, methodically formulating her explanation, tedious and menial of a task, yet imposing in nature.

"Perhaps, someday," the sister settled for the two impactful words, ambiguous in and of itself; however, the brother never inquired further as they traipsed back to Makai's beachfront, abyssal, broken, and alive.

Xue could only hope Ziyi found his freedom as she failed to find her acceptance—after all, a siren always led a sailor to his death.