#Changeling Press

[ovalleba]

Sanguine Shadows #blitz #preorder

  LGBTQ+ Vampire Romance Date Published: April 11, 2025     This is where everything changes. Darce has done his best to live off the radar as one of the bloodkind, keeping himself separate from the company of other vampires and the danger they court. The cowboy might be lonely in his solitude, but he’s safe. Raven’s come to change that. He’s come to change everything. A newly made…

[cubbihue]

how far can i push this itty bitty series before i have to start adding trigger warnings...

[changelingeyes]

forgot how fun it is to add little details to drawings that no one else is likely to notice but that i am incredibly autistic about

[phenikas]

Just wanna let you all know I am in the middle of so many wips it's not even funny... I'll try to get at least one thing out this week but bear with me cause work is absolutely kicking my ass and I do not have as much free time as I wish I had

There's still two reqests I wanna finish but then there's a Halloween thing I wanna do that involves editing Jack and Rhys' textures and also slightly modifying Rhys' old Tales Atlas model.

And then there's another thing that I wanna do for once I reach 200 followers which honestly I have no idea when that's gonna be (hint: AI Jack RGB lights) (another hint: it's gonna be a video with actual voice lines taken from tales files this time)

Also I started writing one of my wips again that I haven't really talked openly about but it is the same AU as that one drawing I did earlier this year and I feel like it's not supposed to have a definite ending so I might just put whatever I wrote on AO3 sometime soon and then get back to it later once I have more of it written down

[vintagerpg]

Look, it’s a whole book of Tony DiTerlizzi’s black and white fantasy sketches. Do I need to say more? Of course not! But I want to!

The Pen & Ink Drawings of Tony DiTerlizzi (2023) draws from three decades of doodles (I’m going for alliteration there, really — there is no way to seriously call these doodles). The vast majority are related to Dungeons & Dragons (or generic fantasy that may as well be D&D), though I think I did spot a sketch for a single illustration from Contiuum. There are maybe some prelims for Changeling, too, though I’d be hard-pressed to recognize them.

By arranging stuff in chronological order, we get to see the artist in motion (similar to the Bernie Wrightson trading card book back in April). I can’t think of another artist who hangs on to the same essential enthusiasms even as their skills sharpen. You can tell when TD hits a critical mass of life drawing practice, but something hard to explain remains unchanged from his earliest drawings to the last. There are so many charming little fellas. It’s alarming when real violence turns up — there are a couple severed heads — because I fundamentally want all these adventurers and kobolds and whatsits to make it out of the scenario alive somehow. Also, just have to point it out, another Bernie parallel: a surprising number of lady adventurers menaced by carnivorous goo. That githyanki kinda looks like Jerry Only? I’m flipping through, trying to find a favorite, but it’s impossible. Whichever one I’m looking at is my favorite. I close the book and I feel sad.

[mamayan]

Yandere! Dark Fae King x Darling! Changeling (Part 2)

Part 1 (Here)

cw: NSFW • Sub! Reader • Dom! Yandere • Dark/Yandere Themes • Gore/Death • Monster Fucking • Fae • Kidnapping/Imprisonment • Dubcon • Fem! Darling • Dumbification • Praise • Overstimulation • Pheromone Drugging/Aphrodisiac • Manipulation • Breeding

A/N: Upon multiple requests and asks, I’ve decided to expand and make a part 2 for Avarice and Darling’s story. Enjoy♥️

“Freak!”

“You should be ashamed to be alive! When your own sister died, how dare you appear here!”

“Jinx.”

“I hope you die worse than she. Poor soul…”

You snapped out of it when he finally left again. The nightmares of your past seemingly haunting you as the death of so many rested on your shoulders.

Your fault. It was always your fault, wasn’t it? That’s what you were after all. A jinx.

Ava… he haunted you more than anything. His eyes so dull as of late but you couldn’t find it in yourself to assure him of forgiveness you did not want to give. You’d said horrible things to him though, when he’d confessed to killing your entire village due to your pressuring. He killed your family, or at least, the only family you knew. He killed the women and children, the old and innocent. Ava had no discretion when it came to slaughtering humans.

“Of course I love you! You’re my little sister, why are you asking me such a silly question so late?” Your human sister had looked so befuddled when you’d questioned her love for you. It must’ve been a rebellious phase, for she raised you and your younger human siblings much like a mother should’ve. The mother which birthed your siblings and the child swapped for you had lost herself to alcohol and gambling, her husband and your father too loyal to leave her despite the pit she began to dig for the entire family.

Your fault.

“Come eat. This sickness of her’s seems to be affecting us all. Father shall return with a fresh kill, I’ll make a stew. You like deer stew right?” You hated it but nodded anyway, your sister’s cooking so awful it even made your father’s eyes water but… “I do. I love it… and I love you too.” You’d replied, and it was the warmest moment you remember in that small wooden house.

You’d picked your nail beds bloody, eyes numbly staring at the broken skin and wondering why it wasn’t telling you the right answer. What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t leave, even if you wanted to, and that was the problem. You didn’t want to leave Ava, because aside from your deceased sister, he was the closest living creature to your heart. He owned part of your soul now too, but you could feel him in you too. It wasn’t one sided, and while Ava certainly was full of cruelty, you knew him capable of care. He cared for you, his people and subjects, and his kingdom.

So why did he do it? Harm so many? Oddest of all, why did he abhor humans to much? He wouldn’t answer anything you asked, merely stating it was a necessity, that they needed to die, or be cleansed as he’d phrased it. You had loved a human dearly though, her memory still filling you with the familiar taste of warmth and overcooked venison. She was not a sister by blood but through life and trust.

Would Ava have killed her too?

You could only wonder endless dark halls of a castle you never saw an exit to. The windows revealing what appeared to be an entire kingdom below, built into a forest much like in tales of your childhood. This was a community, one which you now shared responsibility to help grow and flourish.

You didn’t feel like you were home though.

“Look at me.”

He’s impossible to ignore.

“I will force you if I must.”

You turn, giving the barest of glances upward, head forced to tilt completely back to meet his dark golden eyes. He, in all his immortal and frightening glory, looks tired. You admit it makes something within you ache to see it, but you aren’t ignorant to the fact that you look tired as well.

“You are not sorry at all… are you?” His lips press tight, eyes narrowing a fraction as he cocks his head, a few dark curls spilling like waves to follow the movement. He stalks closer like a predator, and even now, when you know he intends no physical harm to you, it raises your instincts to run. His towering form lowers to the floor where you’ve seated yourself, endless marble surrounding you in an empty ball room, the enormous glass window you’ve opened allowing fresh air in.

“Do you wish me to apologize for eliminating those vile creatures… or for upsetting you?” He cracks a rueful smile, teeth all sharp edges and eyes hardened by your distance. “If it is the latter little flower, then I sincerely am apologetic, I never wished to upset you.” You can tell he’s sincere, see it even, but something still nagged at you that wouldn’t leave.

“Ava…” his full attention is trained on you, “Why do you hate them? What did they do to you?”

His wings shift as he settles himself fully on the ground with you. An image unbefitting of a King yet also suiting him as he leans back on his palms and directs his gaze at the tall ceiling above.

You liked the sight of moonlight bathing him more than candle.

“I thought I loved a human once.”

You flinch, despite knowing it must’ve been so long ago, it stung nevertheless. He twitches, as if to move towards you before he stops himself and settles again, talons scraping along the floor as he continues.

“That human used my youth and ignorance against me and destroyed my entire existence for a time. I lost my position as a rightful heir and prince, lost my home and family, and lost my freedom. I stayed alone a very long time little Faery,” his gaze slides to you, glowing molten gold in rage as he remembers. “All alone, because I did the one thing no Faery is allowed to do, the most forbidden art which exists amongst our kind, all for one measly deceitful human.” His lips pull back in a grimace, even as you crawl a little closer.

He likes that your gaze is upon him again, filled with that familiar compassion and empathy he adores. He just loathes it is directed at him because of his disgusting past.

He watches as your tongue dips out to lick your lips, eyes filled with curiosity as you sit beside him, close enough to nearly touch yet not quite.

“What was it?”

“I granted them access to the Tree of Life. The tree which gave birth to all Faery kind.” His expression turns mocking, jaded as he seems to recall with perfect memory. “I had been ready to pluck the stars from the sky for that filthy ungrateful thing, and they dared to use me to gain eternal life by drinking from the tree’s fountain.”

He sees the look of astonishment and horror, clearly upset as realization dawns. It was said the Tree of Life would die if touched by human hands, destroying all of Faery kind should it occur. If it was true or not was unknown.

“…they touched it…?” You broke the dense silence first, curling your limbs around yourself as you feel the itch of your wings notify you of the awkward arch you’ve made with your spine.

Ava barks a dry laugh, dark amusement sparking in his eyes despite the serious story.

“Of course not little flower. My younger sister killed them before they could dare, becoming a hero for all Faery alike for protecting the race against a treacherous prince and a foul greedy human.”

He’s amuses himself with watching you through a small handheld mirror. Decorated in gold and jewels, the delicate ornate trinket has a spell cast to view his target at will.

You were asleep, tired from the seamstresses which had fussed so long over your dresses and you, face peaceful as you rest on the large expanse of his bed.

You sleep where he awoke this morning. Curled into the spot like you’re attempting to reclaim any warmth left over from his own slumber.

“You’re making quite a disgusting face, your majesty~” his eyes narrow as his mood sours in an instant.

“Leave witch.” He hisses, undisguised displeasure painting his sharp features as they scrunch in revolution.

“Make me faery,” a lithe feminine voice hisses back, his eyes finally lifting to acknowledge the vermillion haired woman which had appeared before him. “What has you making such a warm expression? I nearly lost my breakfast seeing it.” She glides more than walks, shamelessly spreading the floor length fur coat wrapped around her open, sitting on the arm chair of his throne.

“And your presence is going to make me gouge your eyes out and feed them to my hounds,” he flashes an equally unfriendly smile, the air becoming volatile towards the witch.

“Don’t act as if I wish to be here anymore than you wish it. You were the one who requested my potion.”

“Your potion not your presence.”

Dark eyes roll with a flutter, her red painted lip curling in disdain as she snaps her fingers, a small wooden box appearing in her palm.

“It cannot be delivered frivolously faery, or so you trust your servants so deeply?” He doesn’t answer.

She laughs, handing the box over with a smile as he pulls out a silver dagger and plunges it into his forearm.

Gold leaks from the wound, the witch quickly frowning and removing an empty vial to collect the liquid.

“Don’t be wasteful now, your blood is in high demand amongst my coven. It’s an incredibly binding agent.”

“Silence or I will bind your tongue for all eternity.”

“As if you could.” She cackles, vanished and gone before his talons could sink into her throat.

The box rests in his free hand. His distaste for the witches strong, but he admits they create the most potent and stable magical concoctions. They’re good in business too. He notes she didn’t allow a single drop of blood to go to waste before his wound sealed and closed.

“Drink for me, petal.”

You look lovely. Dressed lavishly in the finest silks and slowly becoming more confident in your true appearance. You no longer sit before the mirror and grimace, instead you play absently with your wings, more accepting as time continues.

He would rather just take you by force.

This method somewhat feeling beneath him, but in the end, he was already a wicked monster. What was this compared to his true nature?

You still curl or turn away when he touches you, less trusting of him now and though you should be, he finds it irritating. He wants to feel you melt against him again, blink your pretty eyes up at him and whisper his name with your kiss bitten lips.

You eye the delicate glass cup warily.

His clawed hand holding the pretty pink clear cup was nearly comical. He could tell by the quirk of your lip which you quickly tempered to avoid his detection. He caught it all though, still hoping he’s not forced to make you drink it. Though he doesn’t mind the act, pouring the drink in his mouth and laying his lips over your own to create a seal.

You take the cup gingerly with both hands, licking your lips as you bring it close to sniff.

“What is it…?” You look confused, nose scrunching up adorably, and he finds he wishes to kiss you there.

He’s forced to stay where he is though, aware you will wiggle and run if he touches you.

“Tea, made from milk, honey, and dried fruits.”

“It smells sweet…” you still eye him with mistrust, but you take a sip anyway, eyes lighting up as you take another. “It’s very good,” you’re not immune to bribery, “Thank you.”

For just a short moment, he feels his chest warm and a genuine smile grace his lips.

“You’re welcome, little flower. Thank you as well.”

“Huh?” You’ve finished the tea. “What for…?” His smile grows as you tilt your head in confusion.

“For being so foolish.”

You’re burning from the inside out. Tears and drool soaking your face and the bed as you cry out again.

“Why?” Digging your nails into the fabric, you find the texture appalling compared to usual, too rough and cold. “Ava…” you struggle to breathe, chest heaving as perspiration clings to you like a second skin. “It hurts…” you were fading into a blur of dizziness as your lower belly cramped again, more wetness coating your inner thighs.

“Shh…” he coos, ignoring your weak flinch as he slides his long tongue from your chin to your cheek, drinking your tears as his chest rumbles like a giant cat. “Do you need something sweet girl? Use your words.” He murmurs, groaning as he sees the amount of fluid you’ve leaked, your pussy swollen and glistening as you buck your hips and whine.

“Mean—!” He chuckles at your accusation, smiling shamelessly as he continues his chaste kisses against your skin.

“To you, petal? No, mean would be if I left you like this, no release for your poor little body.” He threatens, ignoring your silent pleas and body language for him to touch you more, keeping just enough distance to have you clawing at him to come back. “I’m nice though, I’m going to kindly fill your womb and make it all better.” It’s like a demon whispering in your ear as you writhe beneath him. His large frame cages you though, presses down on you as your bare chests connect and you can feel the thundering in his rib cage through your own. “Are you going to be good and let me breed you, little feary?”

You can’t think. Not when the promise of something hot and big going inside you, stretching you out like your body is begging for now. You nod, mind already gone as your clouded eyes connect with his own. You look high, pupils blown as he brings two fingers to his lips, opening his mouth and breaking off two of his sharp claws to blunt them.

“Spread your legs.” You obey, pliant body opening at his commands as he uses his fingers to dig into your slick gooey hole. He delights in your moans and reactions, hips moving for more friction as he fucks your tight entrance loose enough to take his cock inside you. “That’s it, petal, you don’t need to think anymore. Let go for me,” he murmurs, kissing you gently, tongue melting into your mouth while he digs his fingers up and rubs until you’re coming around his digits.

He pulls them out slowly, eyes drifting down to catch the sticky wet mess you’ve made and the jump of his cock in response. He laughs, deeply to his core as he brings them to his lips and lets you watch him clean them, blissed out expression marred with tears from pleasure and pain.

“You’re mine. For eternity, you will be always be mine.” His eyes are wild, something frightening entering them as he laughs, face so pleased and enamored you feel the urgent sense to crawl away from him, to run. “There is no escaping me. No where you can go that I won’t find you.” You feel too weak and sluggish to move, to even fight back, as his dark hand wraps around your neck, magic and gold swimming beneath his flesh. He feels warm, hotter than even you and your feverish mind. “I am no longer a patient a male, no longer content to wait and watch for results. You deny me, your mate, for humans which wanted to sacrifice you to a false deity, planned to rape and defile you,” he’s squeezing tighter, not cutting off air but blood flow instead as your mind becomes fluffy and unfocused. He speaks directly into your ear, the pointed tip curling down as he settles himself between your thighs. “They wanted to burn you, did you know? They called you a jinx, hated you, only wished you harm and destruction in the most vile and painful ways… and yet you still choose them?” He looks mad, smile filled with malicious intent and eyes glittering like jewels.

You speak with what little focus you have left…

“My sister…loved me.”

His smile falls, eyes narrowing in displeasure.

“Always…she loved me.”

He shakes his head, disapproval clear. “You think she loved you. Humans aren’t capable of love, my sweet flower.”

“You’re wrong…” he halts, watching as you weakly claw at his hold on your neck. “She loved me..! I know she did! You’re wrong! Take it back!” You cough as he releases your throat completely, eyes wide as you look at him with burning resentment even so deep under the influence of an aphrodisiac.

“I love you, but you,” you look filled with hurt, “you don’t love me.”

He’s shocked into silence as you seethe beneath him, face firm and eyes resolute as you declare his feelings for you.

He snarls, snapping his teeth at you, rage filling him as his wings spread out and magic and malice fill the air.

“I am not afraid to punish you, petal. I will not tolerate disrespect—,”

“Neither will I!” Even in tears, shaking as you are, he shifts back, the overwhelming force of your emotions startling him. “You treat me as if I am not worthy of respect, as if I’m not worthy to be listened to. You aren’t—,” you heave for air, struggling to draw in enough oxygen as you whirl on him, “—asking me. For anything. You just take…”

He’s silent, body frozen and tense as he watches you.

“Was it all a lie… when you said you’d be my friend? I thought faery couldn’t lie,” you’re in tears once more, sorrow endlessly streaming down your cheeks.

“No, don’t cry like that,” he feels oddly sick seeing you so upset like this. His frame once more curling around you, but to simply wrap you in the blanket and bring you to his chest. “We are friends, mates, I do not lie.” He whispers, cradling your body to his chest, trying to urge you to look at him.

“Friends don’t sneak away and do things that they know I wouldn’t like,” you calm after a while, swollen tear streaked face turned into his chest while he pets your hair.

He knows it must be painful, still under the effects of the drug he’d given you. His touch helping ease some of the heat.

“Okay. Okay, I was wrong, I…,” his teeth bare as he forces it past his lips, “I apologize…for not respecting your wishes…,” it makes him want to tear one of his hearts out and crush it. His hatred for humans no less despite his apology.

You look hopeful though, eyes returning some of the light he adores within you.

He’ll apologize everyday if he’s allowed to see that.

“Oh gods…!”

He’s trying to kill you. He must be.

You can’t struggle away though, no escape in sight, and true to his word Ava has filled your womb over and over again. You’re delirious on the pleasure, the second his heavy cock had entered you the earlier burning pain subsided into mind numbing euphoria. Each powerful snap of his hips has your body jolting upward, one large palm wrapped around your neck keeping you anchored. You could feel every vein and inch searing into you, eyes going in and out of focus on him face as he heaves for air and fucks you into another orgasm.

“Please, more, I need more—!” You’re reduced to a tearful mess, wantonly begging for his seed as he grimaces and fills you up again, balls drawing up tight as your cunt ripples around his length.

His face is ruined, eyes more red than gold as his pupils remain blown out, thick lashes holding a small cluster of tears as he licks his lips and continues his ravenous pace inside you. His hair clings to his face and horns, black curls damp with sweat and your cum, taking on a nearly purple hue. He wears a delirious expression like you, drugged out into oblivion as you both pant and moan as the heat devours you.

He’d felt badly for drugging you, especially as you writhed and cried in pain. His solution had not been to find the witch he’d bought the elixir from though.

He’d simply drank the remaining fluid while smiling mischievously.

“Let’s just fall into complete depravity petal,” he’d said, before your world went in and out of darkness. Only the scent of sugar and spices dominated your brain, and the feeling of fullness and completion each time he spilled his load within you.

“Are you ready for another sweet faery?” He knew you couldn’t answer, knew that words were too far away for your cotton filled mind to conjure. He asks anyway, drawing your hips off the bed, leaving your upper body limp on the soaked silks while he bounces you on and off his cock. “I’ve always known it is hard for Fae to conceive.” He speaks with a slur, as if it is liquor intoxicating him and not a lustful spell. He laughs as you cum around him, moan so breathy it appears like a silent scream as your back arches higher. “I have a good feeling it will not apply to us.” He nods, slamming down to the hilt as he collapses on you while he comes too, nose buried in your collar bone as he humps out his remaining seed and presses deep to ensure it stays.

“I think your little cunt likes being bred, gripping me so tightly so I can’t leave it,” he huffs, breathing labored as he sees you’ve lost consciousness again.

“Looks who’s mean now…” he murmurs tiredly, but his smile is fresh as he licks up your sweat and tears, cock already hardening again as blood swims in his ears like a river.

“I can’t anymore—!” It’s a squeal and a whine mixed, as Ava grunts against your throat.

“Can’t what, petal?” He asks rhetorically, humming as he slowly rolls your hardened nipple between two clawed fingers. His free hand between your legs, messily rubbing your clit as he works his cock inside you. His thrusts are no longer as violent or heavy as they were two days prior when he’d taken the drug, but his body still howled to press you flat and fill you up. To mark his mate up for all to see.

You look divine to him, too weary to even bite him anymore, nails broken from scratching at his back and arms when he’d blacked out and taken you too roughly. Even still, you looked beautiful, skin less sweat soaked and more simply damp, his care to ensure you drank water paying off in between rounds of riding him.

“I think your cunt has finally relaxed,” he teases, enjoying the sloppy squelching which echoes as he drives into you, your pussy indeed finally accepting it’s fate to be subjected to his cock for eternity. “Your womb has dropped too,” his hand stops torturing your clit to press on your lower belly, purring as you weakly complain.

“Let me rest…”

“No. I took the drug later than you, so it’s still in effect for me.” He chuckles, merrily still using your exhausted body. “Just a little more sweet girl, be good for me,” he moans, head falling back as his eyes close in bliss, cock twitching once again to fill you up.

“I truly am…with child?” His eyes are as wide as your own, cradling you close away from the vermillion haired woman who sneers at Ava.

Rolling her eyes, she nods, fingers pressed to her temples as if her mind is aching.

“Yes. You are with child, as I’ve confirmed four times already. Congratulations little Queen, you managed to love the unlovable.”

“Watch your tone and words witch,”

“My race is not an insult you foul monster—!”

They halt as you giggle, features radiant as you smile and hold your hands over your belly.

“A baby!” Ava is stricken at your delight, throat closing as something sweet tickles him inside. Your floral scent warmer these days, his keen hearing picking up on the second beating of a heart quickly.

“Yes,” he nods, like a love sick dog he grins and answers each time your repeat it in amazement.

The witch truly feels revolted to her core, but wordlessly leaves a book for new faery parents. Leaving without thanks as the happy family gushes over the good news.

As if the disgusting King didn’t know how powerful an aphrodisiac and fertility drug he used on his mate was.

She shrugs, teleporting away to her coven to return to work, minutely pitying the poor faery captured by the dark Fae.

They’re the only fae that can lie after all.

Dividers/@cafekistune

[pressplay-if]

I'm considering getting into Twine. The next chapter for Press Play will still be released in ChoiceScript, as it were, and I don't know if I'll ever move it away from ChoiceScript at all. But given the circumstances, I feel like it'd be prudent to give Twine a try. I'll probably try to make a tiny little short horror game to familiarize myself with twine; given I was already planning to use my autistic fascination with changelings in a story someday and I rly miss writing horror. Don't worry, this won't deduct from my Press Play writing time in any way. I'll keep y'all posted.

[minniesmutt]

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐯𝐞𝐢𝐥

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: FELIX X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: FAE!FELIX, HUMAN!READER, BREEDING, FORBIDDEN LOVE, MARKING, UNPROTECTED SEX, CREAMPIE, IMPLIED PREVIOUS ROUNDS, THEYRE IN LOVE YOUR HONOR, MENTION PREGNANCY/KIDS ☾ ━━━ WC: 0.6K ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     Felix knew not to cross the veil between the fae and human realm. It was an unspoken rule among the fae folk. And as far as they knew, humans knew nothing about them. Still, Felix managed to sneak over and meet Y/n. Falling in love with the human. 

     No other fae seemed to notice his outings. Outings where he was gone for days at a time and everything was normal when he came back. Sometimes sneaking Y/n back with him. Hiding her in her his country side home. 

     “You should stay here,” Felix mentioned as they laid in his bed, kissing her neck as his fingers danced on her skin. Both just having woken up after they were up all night. 

     “I wish I could,” Y/n sighed as she ran her fingers through his long blonde hair. 

     “I could go to the human realm with you. Stay with you there,” He offered as he lifted his head from her neck 

     “If one of us has to move, I’d want to move here. I like the faerie realm more than my own,” Y/n told him. 

     “Then stay,” Felix giggled

     “What if someone finds out i'm here? What if they send me back—“

     “I have friends that know magic. You’ll adapt overtime but if we need it quicker, I can ask.”

     “How?”

     “Changelings adapt to look like us. We have spells to help.”

     “You’ve thought this all out,” Y/n teased 

     “Everything for you. I want you forever.”

     Felix smiled as he intertwined their fingers and pressed them into the pillow 

     “I want you forever too.” 

     The fae pressed his lips to hers which Y/n happily responded to the kiss and wrapped her legs around his hips. Pulling him closer to her. “Didn’t get enough of me last night?” Felix teased

     “I never have enough of you,” Y/n responded 

     “Guess I’ll just never pull out of you again.”

     “You’ve never needed to.”

     Felix pulled one of his hands out of hers and grabbed the base of his cock. Pumping himself a few times and pressing his tip to her entrance. Gently pushing into her as she grabbed the back of his neck with her free hand. 

     “I love you,” Felix mumbled into her mouth 

     “I love you too,” Y/n moaned as he filled her with his cock. 

     Felix smiled as he started thrusting into his human lover. Lips wandering from hers and down to her neck. Letting her moans fill his bedroom— their bedroom.

     “Lix,” Y/n moaned 

     “Mm. I’ll never grow tired of you moaning my name,” Felix groaned as his pace picked up. Listening to her moans pick up too.

     “Need,” Y/n gasped as his tip hit right on that precious spot inside her

     “What do you need? Tell me love.”

     “You. Need you to cum in me. Please lix!”

     “Want me to fill you up? Bare my children for me?”

     “Yes! Please! Wanna have your —“ her pleas are cut off as he hit the spot again. Felix adjusted himself and aimed for the spot again and again. Effectively turning his lover into mush as she shook under him. Her essence covering his cock. 

     The fae moaned as she clenched around him tight. Pulling him in deeper till he was buried in her, cum filling her womb. Adding to the mix from last night when she begged for the same thing. 

     Felix pulled his softening cock out of her once he came back down to reality. Laying next to her and pulling her onto his chest. “‘M never letting you go,” he mumbled into the top of her head

     “‘m never leaving you.”

☾ ━━━━━━ KINKTOBER M. LIST     M.LIST    TIP JAR

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@annoyingwastelandshark @tajannah-price1 @sillygoosegoose @charlieg1rl @kibs-and-bits 

@lxlsposts @seunmong-in @korthbum @linocvp1d @lesbirino

@emilyhadenbaker @linosoju @moonlightcandy00 @bangtanksea22  @rei-reia 

@possum-playground @doitforbangchan @dreamgardenficrecs @bookswillfindyouaway @mallielovssyou 

@minniesuperversee @seungfl0wer @straykidslover2024 @virluna148 @hyunlixie143 

@rebecca-johnson-28 @spookzyclown @thecutiepieme @kittycatkrissa @whyisaah

@hyvneluv @sunaslut69 @sylveonitesworld @chansbabygirlsstuff @bottlebugg 

[boimlerkisser]

Have some...flirting(?) I love these dorks so much!! I draw Brea being confident and teasing quite a lot, but with the second drawing (which is a redraw of one of the first things I ever drew of them) I wanted her to look flustered too!!

Brea is definitely more flirtatious and comfortable with her sexuality but she's not immune to her hot clone crush! > u < I joked with my bff that while she's pressed against him like that she can feel every one of his abs through the Force lmao

Taglist♡: @me-myself-and-my-fos @flowering-darkness @sunstar-of-the-north @changeling-selfship @cherry-bomb-ships @rosieaurora @tropgothships

@little-miss-selfships @starlos-soulmate @limey-self-inserts @candyheartedchy @space-sweetheart @clancykisser @squips-ship @berryshipbasket

@soulnottainted @homevideorentals @severants @tex-treasures @sparkyscissorhands @iwishihadfangs @fictodreamer

[ovalleba]

#TeaserTuesday ~ Morgue

  A Bones MC Romance Iron Tzars MC, Book 11   Motorcycle Club Romance Date Published: June 14, 2024 Publisher: Changeling Press   Dorothy: Spring Break turned into my worst nightmare. Drugged and held against my will, the brutality I witness seems too horrible to be real. Unable to escape, unable to do anything other than await my fate, I nearly gave up hope. Then he burst through the…

[cherrifire]

I love the Power Ponies episode. Would you keep their powers the same as the show or come up with something that better fits the characters themselves?

Ren: Mimic (this is just Roleplay from his Hermit TCG card lol). He can mimic any power he sees. It's super overpowered in the comic they get dragged into, but since Ren has never seen any powers except his friends' poor attempts to use them he's basically useless for the first half.

Martyn: Shapeshifting. I imagine a bit where he's told he has shapeshifting abilities and Martyn is like "What!? But I can already do that!!! That's not fair :(" Then during the big fight at the end learns that shapeshifting also includes inanimate objects and not just living creatures.

Edit: I forgot changelings can turn into inanimate objects too. So there really is no winning for Martyn tbh

Skizz: Super Strength. He gets really happy when he can lift a grumbling Martyn shapeshifted into a giant Ursaminor (He's so pressed about his superpower). He gets the hang of his power pretty quickly since it just makes him super strong. He struggles with balancing the objects he picks up though.

Bigb: Teleportation. The thing with this power is that it's something talented unicorns can do with ease, but it's loud, flashy, and has a limit to how far they can teleport. Bigb's teleportation is silent and he can go anywhere he wants with little effort. Though, since he's an Earth pony, he has no idea how to do it for a while lol.

Etho: I'm not super confident with the answer, but I don't really know what else to give Etho but... Ice breath. He can blow freezing winds at anyone coming his way. It doesn't work right away because of his mask being in the way lol. He just keeps forgetting to lower it. I imagine a bit where the ice ability finally works on a bunch of enemies trying to charge at Impulse. Then when the camera pans back to Etho, he's already lifted his mask back up. You just never get to see him without the mask on lol.

Impulse: Lightning. He can control electricity and produce lightning from his horn. Only issue is he struggles with aiming the lightning. He'll point at an enemy and the electricity ends up landing too far to the left or go right over the target. It feels almost random. In the end, he decides his power is stupid and just uses normal magic blasts. He's a pretty powerful unicorn, sometimes you just gotta use what you know works. (I'm also picturing a bit where Ren gets the hang of the lightning power before Impulse does.)

[hypertechnica]

i’m not saying that what Odo did in s6 while the dominion occupied the station WASNT fucked up beyond imagination, but am i the only one who thinks it completely makes sense why it happened (and why Kira forgave him?)

to be clear, i absolutely think the show forgave him too fast - it should have been a full arc on screen, not in a single off screen discussion in a closet. that was a massive writing failure. but! i don’t think that the arc is usalvageable at all.

(CW for discussions of grooming)

from what i knew of the dominion collaborator arc before i watched it, i assumed Odo had taken an active role in betraying the federation basically because he was lonely and horny and prioritized his own feelings over his values. i didn’t see that at all.

Odo’s betrayal lied within his inaction - his refusal to help kira and the resistance when she needed him most, ruining their plans and in the end costing thousands of lives. Kira (and everyone else) had every right to never speak to him again - so why did she?

Odo, to me, seemed completely dissociated the entire time his betrayal took place. where just before he had been talking of wanting to rip out his strong feelings for Kira, he then takes on an eerie apathy towards everything, stating things “used to” matter and that he felt nothing. he doesn’t even know how much time is passing. the crux of this, of course, is the link - Odo stresses that it’s an experience that can’t be compared to anything solids can do. Kira just “doesn’t understand.” that she can’t understand. what is so life changing about linking that makes him do a full 180 on everything he’s ever stood for? it’s basically just goo sex, right? right?

the Voice of the Link (the female changeling but i refuse to call her that because it’s a stupid fucking name) is manipulating him with his desire to link and to experience his culture. but linking is more than a metaphor for sex, it’s quite literally the emotional fusion between beings. the show compares it to sex, yes, but the emotional intimacy of the act transcends humanoid notions of sexuality in a way Odo had never experienced at this level before. the Voice already had power over him. she’d been building his trust and teasing him with hints at their culture for seasons at this point, it wasn’t a huge step to fully let her enter his mind. the Voice wanted Odo to join the Great Link - but she also wanted that minefield to be destroyed. Odo says she didn’t find out about their plans, but was he correct? what are the Voice’s true motives? she says she doesn’t care about the details of the war, that she just wants to be with Odo for companionship - i don’t buy it. she has to know about the resistance. she’s too smart to not have figured it out. it’s two birds with one stone - fully sway Odo to the side of the dominion, and ensure that the minefield is destroyed.

they’d linked before, but never in totality or for that length. she knew he’d be vulnerable to it. that he would lose himself to the overwhelming emotional intensity and melding of their minds. Odo was an extremely young changeling with little to no experience linking, and was thrust into an out of body extremely emotional and sexual experience literally transcending the boundaries of self with a thousand+ year old founder who knows exactly what buttons to press. of course he would lose his sense of self and detach from reality! she’s literally both attacking and assuaging every vulnerability Odo has in an extremely precise manner!

Odo wanted nothing more than to be able to link with another changeling but the power imbalance was too great. he was putty in her hands. it was really uncomfortable to watch and i dare say it was an act of predation rather than “Odo was horny and folded immediately” or “Odo was lonely and prioritized that over his friends.” yes, he was both of those things, but in the context of his relationship with the Voice… good lord. i wouldn’t even be surprised if Odo genuinely didn’t know the extent of the damage he caused until after things were over - he was completely and utterly gone.

it makes no sense for Odo to suddenly abandon his entire moral and value system just because The Link Is Cool and Awesome and i’m Learning About my Culture and then change his mind once more once shit starts hitting the fan. he’s not that gullible. he can’t rip out his feelings! but he can be coaxed into a state of derealized semi consciousness by continuous linking and isolation from others.

by linking with the Voice he lost track of where he ended and she began. his ego had been destroyed. he was nothing, and nothing mattered but the link. the totality of it. his loneliness was amplified by a thousand degrees every time they separated, she knew how to make him feel just right, she knew how to make him lose his independence completely.

but the spark within him, his love that he’d tried to get rid of, the kind that didn’t require becoming nothing but a drop in an ocean, saved him from her. Kira helped him remember himself and what he believed in right before it was too late.

Odo is far from a defendable character in many cases. he’s a very very flawed person. but i would argue this isn’t his worst moment. his extremely authoritarian tendencies and the amoral decisions he’s made while in complete sound mind are honestly more culpable to me than what happened to him in s6. the scale of the disastrous consequences resulting from his betrayal make it way worse obviously, but he was literally getting groomed and NOT in his right mind. he seemed almost drugged to me at points.

so he SHOULD have gotten another arc afterwards explaining all of that in detail instead of “well, he talked it out offscreen with Kira. he’s forgiven now!” BRO HE INDIRECTLY KILLED SO MANY PEOPLE dissociated or not he SHOULD face consequences for that!! make him grapple with it!! make him realize the extent of what happened not only the consequences but the the way he was taken advantage of! its literally existentially terrifying in every way! and of COURSE in that context Kira would forgive him. trust would have to be rebuilt, of course, but it’s one thing to actively put the entire alpha quadrant at risk for some strange, it’s another thing to have your vulnerability taken advantage of and be put into a dissociative state.

tldr: the Voice is a great villain and Odo has never done anything wrong ever in his life

[phyx-m]

Beneath The Silk | True form Sukuna x Reader

🔗 Masterlist

Chapter 28: Fingertips To Flesh

Content warning: Violence, murder, vomiting, blood, angst, light body horror (?).

🔗 Songs for this chapter:

Slow Decline - Elsiane We Are Shadows - Kittie Changelings - Gazelle Twins

Chapter 27 | Chapter 29

Your ability has always come with its flaws. It’s not just that you hate using it or the sick aftermath it leaves behind, but that it requires closeness—skin-to-skin contact, your fingertips pressed against something alive—for it to work.

It’s a disturbingly intimate way to kill.

And now, it seems, you may have no choice but to use it once more.  

Each sedate step the armed Kasai takes toward you sends your mind spiralling for a plan—a way to slip past him, find your father, and end this before he flees.

But because of the cool weather, the approaching figure is well-covered, leaving only his hands, neck, and face exposed. You’ll need to close the distance without arousing suspicion and without giving him the chance to draw his weapon.

Charming him is out of the question—you’re sopping wet in blood, garment-tattered. You’re certain pieces of someone’s skin are tangled in your hair from your husband’s brutality. So, playing the damsel is your only option. You just hope Sukuna was being an ass when he said you’re a terrible liar—because you’re going to need one hell of a performance.

Sweat licking its way down your palms, you’re surprised when your gloves peel away smoothly. You tuck them into the back of your obi before letting your shoulders fall inward. With the man already halfway down the empty corridor, you take a breath.

Inhale.

At least being a woman, you can lean into everyone’s perceived helplessness of you.

Exhale.

“Please!” You stumble forward, pitching your voice higher to sound desperate. “You have to help me! The King of Curses, he’s—he’s killing everyone down in the main hall.” A hitch in your breath. A glance over your shoulder. "He’ll come for me next."

The smile on the man’s face reams up into a sneer, and he stops walking to take you in. His eyes carefully drag to your bare feet and then to the tattered hem of your garment before he laughs.

“And his wife, barefoot and blood-soaked, escapes without so much as a scratch on her skin? You must think I’m stupid?” He cocks an eyebrow before he continues walking, that one hand on the hilt of his weapon tightening.

Your mouth dries out.

Shit. 

Not the reaction you’d hoped for.

Stay calm. Keep going.

You take another staggering step and raise a hand to touch your chest to appear docile. Not a threat.

“I—”

Below, in your lowered vision, you catch on your fingers. Discoloured veins creeping from the fingertips to the knuckles just like they were last night in the rocky overhang. But you shove the worry aside, hoping the blood smeared all over you hides the unnatural hue.

Another step forward.

“I admit, I was lucky to escape,” you say, forcing a pathetic wobble into the words. “But I’m afraid for my life. He’ll come for me.”

Hopefully not.

“Please.”

Two more steps.

Closer.

Another.

You stop just within range—close enough that he could unsheathe and strike with his katana if he wanted to.

Then, suddenly, you can’t think.

Soft vibrations, followed by stronger tremors, roll along the floor and travel into the soles of your feet. There’s a surge of dark energy, his energy, a distant swell and then a dull boom that makes your whole body shudder.

For a moment, feeling it even this far away gives you comfort but is quickly chased down by a searing ache inside your chest.

When did it start to feel this way? This longing. It hurts. Too much.

Forget him.

Clinging to what could have been will only bring heartache. This is the right choice. Leaving Sukuna was the right choice. Because beyond this cage, these shitty walls, and his shrine is liberation and a life with your sister. Her promise to take care of you—something you’ve had little of and yearned for.

You cut your eyes to your shoulder as strong, unwelcoming fingers grasp around their curve, and the distant sounds of fighting are swallowed into the background.

“Fine. This way,” the Kasai grunts, his hand leaving his weapon only to drag you back down the corridor from where you came from. Not what you wanted.

“Shouldn’t we be going the other way?” You bite down on your tongue when your voice doesn’t sound as fragile as it should.

His eyes dart down to your face, letting them wander before his grip turns choking, making you wince.

“You’re safe with me,” he smirks, teeth and gums flashing while he drags you along.

Liar.

You get the feeling you’re not, and at this angle, your reach is off, no skin to tamper with.

Mind scrambling for a new plan. You remember your blade hidden inside your obi. If you can stab him, there’s a chance you can get away without needing to use your gift.

Maintaining pace with his long strides, you discreetly shift your hand to your sash, angling the sheath just enough to grant you better access while keeping it out of his line of sight. Your fingers slip inside, brushing over the hilt. Feeling the engraved markings, you steady yourself. Slowly, carefully, you begin to slide it free.

The man’s gaze remains fixed ahead, though his eyes flick to the side whenever the walls creak and groan under the constant rising pressure of Sukuna’s energy.

He’s distracted.

Now’s your chance.

Do what needs to be done.

Blade in hand, jaw set, you swing the weapon toward his abdomen and lunge.

The metal punches in. It disappears into fabric, through flesh, and sinks deep between the bones of his rib cage until the hilt meets resistance. Blood coaxes over your hand, and more splashes free when he frantically turns, releasing your shoulder and accidentally tearing open the wound.

“What the fuck?!” The man’s shriek contains such fury it feels like it punctures your skull.

Yanking the tantō free, you step back on trembling feet, pivot, and run in the opposite direction.

“You traitorous little bitch!” he roars from behind, voice rattling along the corridor. “Get back here!”

You don’t look back. You can’t. You keep running.

The blaze inside the floor lanterns dance and bend as you race past, your arms pumping wildly, breath tripping into the next.

You’re fine. Keep going.

Plunging down the vacant passage and nearing the corner, you’re nearly at the turn when another armed Kasai steps into your path.

Shit.

His brow furrows softly as he sees you coming, his eyes scanning your dishevelled form, landing on the bloody blade clutched in your palm. You realize he looks younger but bears a resemblance to the man you just stabbed.

“What’s happen—”

“Please!” you interrupt, stopping in front of him. You lower your weapon in a placating manner, though the tremble in your fingers is real. “You have to help me! The King of Cur—”

“Brother! Don’t listen to her!” Staggering footsteps thud close behind. “The lying cunt just stuck a blade in me!”

Your attention shoots to the younger man, eyes catching on his face as it flips through a wave of emotions—sympathy, regret, apathy… anger.

Anger.

A sibling’s anger. Lots of it.

You understand it too well.

A need to protect.

Before you can react, he moves, and his fist crashes into the side of your face.

You let out a cry of pain as firm knuckles crack into your cheekbone with enough force to send black spots spilling into your vision.

With a strangled cough, your hand slips, and you drop the blade to the floor, the clattering of it mingling with your gasping breaths.

“Don’t drop your weapon. It’s your lifeline. Without it, you have nothing—you’re dead.”

Uraume’s words tiptoe into your mind.

Agony pushes through your face as you drop low, crouching and blindly groping for the hilt.

But before you can grab it, his foot connects, kicking it out of reach.

The metallic rasp of a katana being drawn follows, cutting into the air. Then, the creaking of the floor as he shifts into a killing stance.

You tilt your head back, looking up at him.

But his hands tremble, hesitating—like yours once did with Sayuri.

This is your chance.

Do it.

Now.

You have to. You need to. Because if you don’t, you’ll die here.

It’s either you or him.

Him or me.

No. 

What did she say?

Everyone.

You roll your eyes forcefully upward and reach inward, clawing for the power you despise. It feels distant, like trying to grasp something buried in thick mud.

So much untapped potential lodged so deep within you.

But then, your grip catches. You pull it closer, feeling energy hum at your fingertips.

A dull recognition crosses the man’s face, and he starts to bring down the weapon.

Do it!

In a burst of speed, you dive forward, fingertips targeting the soft, exposed flesh at his throat where the panels of his kimono overlap.

The world shrinks to a single point.

Somewhere in the background, the injured brother shouts a warning, but it barely registers. For once, everything has gone so perfectly quiet inside your mind. All that matters is your hand stretching, reaching closer.

Closer. 

Closer…

Then, contact.

All that raw, solitary power, and it’s yours.

The weapon’s descent halts.

The man freezes, standing so still, it feels as if the world has paused. He blinks down at you, your bodies close, both locked in place.

Your eyes meet.

His face crumples in confusion.

“I’m sorry…” you whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

And finally, you release it.

There’s a pulse. Skin ripples. You pull back.

His katana clatters to the floor, and his hands tremble before clawing desperately at the spot you touched.

But it’s too late.

The skin darkens, turning mottled grey from the point of contact, spreading like an old stain.

He falls, knees buckling into the floor.

You know what’s happening below the surface—his insides rebelling, twisting, succumbing to rot. The stench of it already chokes the air sour.

His body starts to bloat as swollen innards fight to break free. You step back, your stomach rioting, fully aware of what’s about to happen.

The worst part of it.

The sick part of it.

The rotten part of it.

Something cracks inside. Bones. He screams. Loud and frightened.

At that moment, you think of your mother.

Shame crashes into you, and you turn your head away at the last second. The sound giving you a vivid image of his body rupturing, fluids spilling onto the floor. A hiss of air and the horrible warmth trickling into the passage tell you the body has torn open.

Breath held, it falls silent—until you hear the other brother’s wet, howling cry.

You turn to face him and see everything. His hurt, his agony, the anguish of what you’ve done.

What I did.

His expression grows darker, and tears brighten his eyes, but they don’t fall.

“You fucking witch!” Snarling and spitting, he turns his gaze from his sibling’s broken carcass to you.

He advances, teeth bared, and you scramble backward.

“I’LL KILL YOU!”

His weapon is out, and he’s on you immediately, the blade arching down toward the floor.

You dodge, only saved by the stab wound you inflicted earlier. It slows him, making his movements sluggish. As he pulls back the katana, it takes him a moment to recover—but a moment is all you need.

Stepping close, you slip your palm up, cupping his face.

It really is a disturbingly intimate way to kill.

And this time, as you watch the slow, putrid decay trace across his features, your lips shape the word “sorry,” but no further apology comes.

* * * * *

Out in the garden, the cool night air touches the warm sweat and dried blood clinging to your body, the sticky stench of rot still lingering in your nostrils. For a moment, there’s relief—but it doesn’t last.

Where the hell are you?

Heart pounding, you sprint down the stony path, your weapon tucked back into your obi, gloves still stripped off.

There’s no sign of him—your slinking, cowardly bastard of a father. Nowhere to be seen on the compound grounds. The passage you took should have cut him off unless he’s already reached the stables. But he couldn’t be that fast.

Unless…

You stop.

Unless you’re hiding.

Just as you once did when you were younger, hiding whenever he came for you. But why would he hide now? Unless he’s afraid. Afraid of what you’ve unleashed upon this place. Or perhaps he’s running from something deeper—his own regrets. Regrets over how he’s treated you, your sister, and even your mother, like nothing more than cattle.

You hope he’s hiding. There’s something satisfyingly sweet about that idea.

A breeze rolls over you. You look up. Let your eyes sweep across the area, scanning the mounds of shrubs. Their squat, plump forms make it easy to hide against the darkness.

You take a step forward, bare feet tapping against stone.

But you pause when you hear it coming from behind—footsteps.

Rushing. Urgent.

They melt into the ongoing fight at your back, the rolling booms of explosive energy.

You turn, but it’s too late.

A sharp blow lands on the back of your head. The ground rushes up to meet you. Your hands claw frantically at the air, grasping for something but finding nothing.

Knees slamming into the rigid path, pain shoots through your legs. You try to get up, but before you can react, a kick to your stomach folds you inward. The cold, hard ground presses to your cheek.

“This feels familiar,” a voice drawls from behind.

Groaning and clutching at your abdomen, you watch a pair of feet step into view. A tongue clicks, drawing your gaze upward to meet your father’s hollow-faced scowl.

“Don’t be so dramatic. You should be used to this by now,” he says, circling you like a vulture. “Now get up.”

Feeling the blood drain from your face, you force yourself forward, but his foot slams into your side, punching a second breath from your lungs.

“I said get up, girl!” he shouts. “No one’s here to protect you now.”

He’s right. There’s nothing between you, no one standing at your side. There never really had been—until recently.

Sick with rage, you slowly push yourself to your feet, and something flashes sharp from the corner of your eye. Righting your balance, you see him and the tachi he wields—a sword designed for combat on horseback. It’s long and curved in its reach. Perfect to keep you and your fingertips at a distance. A spineless tactic.

Slipping your hand into your obi, it closes around the sheath, and with a quick motion, you draw your tantō free and point it at him.

His lip curls back, nose wrinkling with disdain as his eyes flick to the smaller weapon.

“Did the creature truly teach you how to wield a blade?” he laughs as if the sight of you armed is the most absurd thing he’s seen all day.

“No.” You swipe away some blood caked to your upper lip. “Uraume did. And they’ve been more of a guardian to me these last two months than you’ve ever been!”

It’s something you’ve never considered until this moment, and regrettably, you’ll never have the chance to thank them. There’s also the realization that you’ll never see Ren again, either. But for now, you shove that all aside.

Focus.

Footwear scuffing along the path, your father widens his stance, keeping his presence guarded and watchful.

“Hmm, a pity neither of them knew about that.” His gaze drops to your shaking hands, the colour staining them. “It might have been something to see them try to teach you discipline—what you could’ve been if you weren’t so shamefully usele—”

Stupid. Useless girl.

“Shut up!” The words emerge as a snarl, your mouth tightening in anger. “I don’t know why I haven’t done it, but I should have killed you years ago.”

There’s a beat of silence before he bursts into heavy laughter.

“I know why!” he chuckles, alighting his free hand to his temple. “There’s no clarity up here for you.” He pauses, and he smiles. “The answer sits right in front of you. It’s been sitting with you for twenty-five long years.”

What?

Nothing he says makes sense. Nothing.

It’s all nonsense. Gibberish.

Sneering, he continues to laugh.

And he doesn’t stop laughing.

You need him to stop laughing.

Need him to stop breathing.

You want him gone.

Everyone. Gone.

Just like she said.

“But you’re too broken and naive to understand,” he adds after calming himself. “Too desperate for scraps of affection to see the truth.” 

“Desperate?” You take a long step forward, the broken edges of your kimono swaying with the movement.

Your father’s eyes narrow, the grip on his weapon shifting defensively.

“I’m glad I was desperate enough to witness the downfall of this clan. Everything you’ve built, all the power you’ve fatted on, is about to be taken in one single, glorious night.”

You let the words settle, let them crash and reform as you watch his face turn rigid.

“And it’s all because of me,” you add, mouth twitching into a smile that doesn’t fully settle.

He stares at you, his eyes betraying uncertainty for the first time, as though he doesn’t recognize the person standing before him—neither his daughter nor his victim.  

Good.  

You didn’t want to be either. You want to be your own person—not something your father can twist into a means to an end.

Your own damn person.

Free to be greedy. Selfish.

To want things you’ve never allowed yourself to want.

And god, you think, you knew what that was.

Through slitted eyes, you watch him carefully.

Waiting.

The corner of his mouth curves. The veins in his neck bulge. His fingers loosen briefly on the hilt of his weapon, only to tighten again.

Then, with a sudden burst of motion, he uncoils, charging straight for you.

You lift your weapon in preparation.

Your father might be older, but his experience shows. He’s lived through battles, he knows how to fight. You are running on reckless adrenaline. And your blade is no match for his reach.

But all you need is one touch.

Which leaves you only one choice.

Pulling back your arm, you aim, and you throw. The tantō spins through the air, curving as it tumbles toward him. And while it flies, you run.

You should be thinking—recalling everything Uraume taught you about footwork and intent. But you’re angry. So fucking angry. And in your rage, you’re almost mindless.

Distracted by the incoming projectile, he swats it aside. The weapon clatters to the ground, the sound bouncing off the stones.

It’s enough.

In the next instant, you slip past his guard, lunging for the exposed skin of his wrist where his sleeve has rolled up.

Terror flashes across his face as your fingers make contact, his weapon too long to angle back in time.

Do what needs to be done!

You heave, and you pull all your power into you, feeling its scurrying energy at your fingertips. Pulse quickening, you prepare to end him, to watch the life drain from his eyes as you release it.

And you do.

And you wait.

Ready.

But nothing happens.

No rippling flesh. No rot. No torn body. No satisfying end.

You glance down.

Panic stiffens you.

The discolouration of your hands is gone. But that shouldn’t matter—it should have worked. Why didn’t it work?

You press harder, frantically digging your fingers into his skin, pushing so forcefully the flesh indents and puckers.

A little more.

Nothing.

Please. Please?

Still, nothing.

You look up and find furious eyes looking back at yours. Furious eyes you’ve seen looking back too many times.

A snarl explodes from your father’s throat as his knee drives into your stomach, sending you sprawling backward. Your feet catch on the uneven path, and the next thing you know, you’re on your backside, blinking up at the inky night sky.

He steps forward, his outstretched shadow falling over you.

“You think by sicking that thing on us, you can destroy everything I’ve built?” he hisses, flicking the blade tip across the top of your left hand to draw blood. “Enlighten me, girl, what part of yourself did you give to him in return?”

The blade flicks again. You hiss at the bite of metal cutting through flesh. Watching him carve a wider, deeper trench from your wrist to elbow.

“It doesn’t matter what I gave him,” you spit, your eyes wandering to where your tantō lies paces away.

Not close enough.

Your eyes wander back.

Another swipe.

More blood trickles down, soaking into the fabric of your kimono sleeve. 

“Ryomen Sukuna does what he wants,” you breathe, trying not to move while the monouchi glides to coax out more red. “He always has, and he always will.”

As exhausting as that is.

But he is untamable.

A force. A menace. A monste—

A pressure prods against your skin. A pressure that is familiar. A pressure that feels as if it’s searching and looking for something.

“... and besides,” you continue, ignoring Sukuna’s aura, even when it’s strong enough to lift every hair on your body. “What I give to my husband is none of your fucking busi—”

That tendril of energy suddenly bursts, shattering your sentence.

Your head turns. Your father’s does as well.

Gaze sweeping toward the compound, you focus on the distant main hall at the estate’s center.

From deep inside, energy gathers, pulling inward, tighter and tighter—

And then it snaps.

Every part of you freezes.

For one heartbeat, silence, save for the distant sounds of screaming.

The air feels thin, suffocating under the King of Curses’ hold.

The earth trembles.

And then…

...

BOOOM!

A detonation of raw energy erupts.

The force spirals upward into a towering column before expanding outward in an uncontrollable wave.

Unseen slashes tear through the air, eviscerating everything—the compound, trees, rocks, wildlife, everyone still inside.

It’s both mesmerizing and horrifying to witness. 

You can’t look away.

The shockwave rolls forward. Rubble shoots skyward, curling and tumbling like an angry plume before raining down.

There’s no time to shield yourself as the aftershock bursts past, slamming against your body, throwing your hair back, and peppering your skin with sharp, stinging debris. Dust fills your lungs, carrying with it the faint taste of blood.

Squinting your eyes, you realize that it isn’t stopping. It keeps coming and coming, devouring and pushing forward faster and faster.

Fear spears through you as you brace yourself to be torn into tiny pieces.

But then, all at once, it stops—just shy of your bare feet, your toes nearly severed.

The barrage settles, the power flickering and fading into a sudden, deafening silence.

You blink.

A shaky exhale escapes you as your eyes take in the destruction—the massive crater where the estate once stood.

The corner of your mouth pulls up.

The other fight has been decided.

No one can survive that. Not anyone but one.

You keep looking, but not for long. 

Quickly, you pull away.

With your father distracted and gaping at the devastation, you throw yourself across the ground toward your weapon.  

Reaching, you grab it and whirl.  

In a blink, you surge forward, driving the blade deep into the muscles of his thigh.  

He lets out a pained grunt as his legs buckle, his body collapsing into a tangle of exhausted limbs.

Teeth bared, he struggles to push himself up, but you don’t let him.

With a burst of strength, you lunge at him. Your injured hand grabs his wrist, pinning his weapon hand to the ground.

Another surge, and you’re face-to-face, the tip of your blade pressing into the hollow of his throat, drawing a thin line of blood.

Your breath catches.  

Then you freeze.

And you look.

And the face staring back is your father’s.

His eyes meet yours, frail and tired-looking.

You both remain like this.

Quiet. Waiting.

“Once…” he starts, his chest heaving with shallow, laboured breaths. The rhythm pulls at threads buried deep within you, grounding you, like you’re a child again, as if he’d once loved you.

“Once, I think I cared for you, just like your mother had, but—” He blinks like he lost his train of thought in mid-sentence. “But I forgot what that felt like.”

Something inside your chest twists, hollows out, dissolves.

Forget?

Forget?

How could he forget?

Your head falls back, and a raw, animalistic laugh rips through you while tears shimmer as glass in your eyes.  

You squeeze your weapon.

“You think I care?” you exhale.

But maybe you do, because you think back to yourself as a child and how knowing this might have broken you even further.

“All I care is that Yuna and I will be rid of this.” You nudge the blade harder into his skin. “Rid of you.”

His breathing stills. Your gaze drops back to him.

The sharp angles of his face, his eyes—everything is the same. And yet, all at once, it’s not.

“Yes… your sister,” he murmurs. “Kasai’s most radiant and perfect gem. Flawless on the surface, isn’t she?”

You don’t answer him.

He laughs, low and bitter. And he doesn’t stop laughing.

You need him to stop laughing.

Need him to stop breathing. 

You want him gone.

For years, you’ve endured. And endured. And endured.

No more.

Everyone. Gone.

“Next time you see her,” he says, his voice cracking, “ask her...”

Something wet rolls down your cheek.

His eyes lift and fill with an emotion terribly close to pity.

“Ask your sister how your mother—”

You drive the blade into his neck, a half-cry tearing from your throat.

In the secluded garden, his eyes bulge, the whites so bright in the dark that it’s unbearable to look at.

With a short twist of your arm, you push the metal in until the hilt grazes skin and meets resistance. He coughs, and blood bubbles up, flecking his bottom lip. Red weeps in fine tracks down from the wound, and he flails.

You let go of his weapon hand, giving him space to shudder in his final death throes.

Where his feet lay in the garden, they twitch, his heels digging into the dirt and pushing up small piles as if trying to crawl away.

You won’t let him.

After years of trying to escape, he finally understands what it feels like—what he made you feel. Powerless. Hurt. Unloved and unwanted.

No more.

Your eyes follow your hand as you pull the blade free. But instead of sheathing it, you drive it in again.

Hot liquid spurts out, spilling over your bare, trembling fingers.

Then, you pull it out, then push it in again.

You think of your mother.

Then out, then in again.

You think of your sister.

Out, then in.

Again.

And again, until nothing remains but a dark red hollow where his neck once was—just like the gaping crater Sukuna made into your home.

Home…

You have no home.

Your father stops moving, and you pull back. The gurgling in his throat falls silent, eyes rolling soft and distant. 

Gone.

For a long moment, the world falls quiet, filled only with the calming sounds of a soft and gentle breeze rustling overhead. But as you sit there, panting and straddling the body, the metallic tang of blood and the weight of death wander into your nostrils.

Three times you killed tonight. Three lives taken. Three lives never coming back. And there is also the heavy knowledge of what you asked the King of Curses to do for you.

Wiping your brow, you feel the adrenaline slowly ebbing and falling away from your body. Then, leaning over, face angling toward the dirt, you vomit.

Feeling empty would be easier. Better. You want to feel nothing at this point so you force it all out.

Watching the sick and bile seep into the earth, you slowly gather yourself, your stomach emptied, and your trembling eased.

There is still more to do.

Blade in hand, you bend down and cut a strip of clean cloth from your father’s kimono. Quickly, you tie it around the wound on your arm to staunch the bleeding. Without Sukuna’s healing, it will scar.

Pushing up to your feet on unsteady legs, you tuck the weapon away and take one last glance down at the body lying half on the path, and half on the darkened soil.

Freedom—yours and your sister’s—stares lifelessly back at you.

Safe. Finally.

Hopefully…

You shiver. A pulse beat inside your head throbs.

Take Ayana. Find Yuna.

You need to leave. Now.  

Slowly stepping away, you turn, and you run.

* * * * *

Scattered pieces of debris from the King of Curses’ destruction crack and shift underfoot as you pick your way toward the stables. You don’t allow yourself the chance to pause or look at it. You just keep moving.

As you near the edge of the garden’s soil, your escape route comes into view. Then you stop.

You hear them before you see them—voices.  

Sinking low, you flatten yourself against a shadowed shrub for cover.

“—the hell is taking so long?” someone grumbles.

Tilting your head for a better view without exposing yourself, you spot two armed men standing outside the stables. From their appearances, one is Kasai, the other a Zen’in.

Odd. Because you thought the Zen’in clan had left after they were rejected in favour of Onishi.

You shuffle closer on your haunches, feet pressing into the dirt.

“The aberration should have tired by now,” one of them—likely the Kasai—says. 

“Doubtful,” the other replies. “He’s probably already wiped out the entire Kamo clan. And if that’s the case—” A disgusted sound rises from his throat. “We can only hope that psychotic fuck doesn’t become their next clan head.”

A pause.

Silence.

The other man says nothing.

In the distance, the thunder of hooves suddenly tears through the night.

You lift your head, listening. A nervous twist forms in your stomach. You don’t know who’s coming, but something feels wrong. Just like this whole harvest festival has felt wrong.

Muscles tensing, you prepare to run for the stables and retrieve your mount.

“What about Lord Kasai’s daughters?”

You freeze in place.

“I heard Lady Yuna took a horse and rode west. Apparently, the other one slipped away.”

“Don’t we need her?”

“So I’m told.”

A chill drips down your spine.

“And ordered to remain untouched and unharmed. If not, well...”

Your heart pounds at their words and the approaching sound of hooves and baying horses, each second narrowing your chance to escape.

You can’t get caught.

But should you risk slipping past these two and whoever is coming, or turn back and find Sukuna?

No.

You’re on your own now.

Turning your head to the left, you know of the private door at the back of the stables—the one you and your sister used to sneak through as children. It’s your best option.

Breathing deeply, you pull away from the shrub and steady yourself. If you don’t move now, the delicate sense of freedom you’ve killed for will slip through your fingers.

You rock back and forth on your heels, tuning out the voices and hoofbeats.

Inhale.

You can’t get caught.

Exhale.

You launch forward.

Feet digging into the dirt, they barely leave the ground before a hand clamps around the side of your head. A panicked scream rises up your throat, but the hand shifts, a palm pressing hard over your mouth to smother it. Another arm snakes around your waist, dragging you backward into deeper shadow. You stumble, colliding with solid warmth.

Even with your strength drained, instinct takes over. Your right hand flies up, clawing at the stranger’s grip—but a third hand catches your wrist, pinning it to your side.

Three.

Three hands.

No.

No.

Injured arm exploding upward, you make a desperate attempt to break free. Why you thought that possible, you’ll never know. His fourth hand locks around your other wrist, rendering both arms useless.

One wrench backward, and you go still. Another pull, and so does he.

Caught.

In the darkness of the garden, quiet, shaking breaths pass between you two.

And with your back flush against the strong planes of his abdomen, he cages you in so close.

It’s an embrace of sorts—one you can’t fight as your bruised body goes limp against.

A dark part of you aches with relief that he’s found you, and you can feel the steady pulse of his heart.

But you know you can’t stay. You need to be gone—from here and from him.

You need to leave him.

No—

Pain sizzles along your spine, only to burst behind your eyelids.

Yes.

Leave him.

The words circle endlessly, strangling your thoughts.

You start to squirm, start to thrash, but his grip tightens. Soft breaths turn shallow, escaping your nose as the hand covering your mouth tilts your head back, forcing your gaze upward.

The King of Curses’ face swims into view. Short strands of pink hair pull away from his forehead, crimson eyes glowing bright in the darkness.

“Going somewhere?” he hisses, flashing a grin.

Red paints the inside of his mouth and teeth. He reeks of death. Of fire, and broken bodies—the aftermath of what he’s done for you.

For me.

Before you can even react, your hair crashes wildly across your face as he suddenly moves, spinning and pulling you away from where you stood moments ago.

From the corner of your eye, the stables—your path to freedom, to your sister—begin to slip away.

Panic surges in your chest.

You fight.

Kicking your legs wildly into the air, the momentum has you writhing and squirming while the mantra in your head builds, rising in desperation louder and louder.

Leave him!

Leave him!

Leave him!

Without loosening his grip, you bite down hard on the hand covering your mouth, enough to draw blood. It piles and flows onto your tongue in streams, hot and metallic.

Sukuna tenses, exhales softly, unfazed, and doesn’t let go.

“I was wondering when the little snake would finally show her fangs,” he growls with excitement.

Feet dangling uselessly in the air, you watch the surroundings blur, his strides quickening as he moves toward the limestone barrier. Using his shoulder, he pushes through a side gate, passing into a cluster of cypress trees. Only then does he set you down.

Cold grass presses against the soles of your feet, and you stagger back, putting space between you. You quickly wipe your mouth and spit out the blood sitting on your tongue.

You turn.

For the first time, you both stand before each other, drenched and covered in splashes of red and gore. No. That doesn’t feel right.

Why doesn’t it feel right?

Taking in your appearance, Sukuna’s mouth twitches.

“Wife,” he murmurs, his eyes trailing a languid path over every part of your blood-soaked body, heating as they roam. The intensity matches the warmth steadily rising in your chest.  

“Look at you…” His voice drops, turning low and raspy. “You’ve gotten even filthier since the last time I saw you.”

Fuck.

That voice.

It almost makes you forget everything that has just happened. Completely wiping away what you’re meant to do, where you need to be.

When his hooded eyes return to yours, they darken, and the red around his pupils nearly disappears. You wish they wouldn’t do that. Want them to look elsewhere because your heart skips a beat a thousand times over and slams so hard into your chest that you edge backward.

“Blood red.” He steps closer.

Your knees threaten to tremble inward as his bare upper body moves with fluid, unnatural grace. 

“Just like a flower.”

He stops before you, head dipping low and levelling you with a stare. Your pulse quickens to an unbearable high.

“It suits you,” he whispers softly into your face.

“Lord Sukuna.” You exhale, then swallow, his lower eyes flicking to track the movement of your throat. “You found me.”

He smirks—but then he blinks.

His expression darkens.

“You’ve always been easy for me to find…”

Snapping branches and the whining of horses burst into your ears, breaking the spell.

You look away, glancing toward the source. There, Ayana and Sukuna’s mount stand, tethered beneath a tree. Your brow furrows in confusion. They shouldn’t be here—you were just about to barrel into the stables to retrieve her.

But cypress. You noticed the scent of cypress on Sukuna’s kimono. That’s where he had been. He had moved them earlier in the evening—while you were dressing.

Turning away from you and stepping closer, the King of Curses begins untying the animals.

“It seems you’ve misplaced something,” he remarks cooly over his shoulder, casting a glance at your hands.

Your eyes dart downward.

Gloves.

You say nothing, your fingers twitching before reaching into your obi to gather them. The effort takes a moment; the blood and sweat clinging to your skin make the leather stick as you pull them on. Once encased, your gaze lingers there. The gloves remind you—it’s over. There’s no longer a reason to end his life.

Your mind settles back, watching Sukuna prepare the two mounts. The reins creak with each move of his four hands, the fastenings of the saddle’s buckles clicking into place. When he’s finished, he pats both horses on the neck.

All while you watch, your mind chases down reasons to find a way out.

“Lord Sukuna,” you say, keeping your voice steady. “What are you doing?”

Above, the wind stirs the leaves.

“What do you mean, what am I doing?” he mumbles, annoyed. “You have eyes. Use them.”

He doesn’t turn as he guides the mounts forward, their hooves parting the crackling grass.

“That’s not what I mean,” you murmur, stepping closer to Ayana, who is tucked near his side. Just a simple slip past him, and you could mount her. “My father’s dead, my Lord.”

Sukuna’s bottom hands slide down both reins as he turns to face you.

“What of it?”

What of it?

Does he not understand?

You exhale quietly, straighten your posture, then lock eyes with the man, who is your husband in name only.

“The Kasai clan is gone. Your arrangement was with my father—” You motion between the two of you. “This thing between us… it’s over.”

There's no purpose to this anymore.

The treaty is void. It’s done.

“So please,” you continue, your voice quieter now. “I wish to be released from this union.”

The space between you grows still.

Sukuna studies you for a long moment. His eyes soften, his expression unreadable. Then his gaze shifts, tracing every detail of your face, starting with your hair, gliding to your lips, then your nose, before finally settling on your eyes.

Then, he cocks his head slightly.

And laughs.

The sound is as loud as it is cruel, and you feel another cage closing around you.

“Is that what you thought?” He arches his slitted eyebrow, taking a step closer, guiding the two flanking horses by their reins.

“After what I just did for you. You thought this was over?”

The air seems to grow thin.

“After what I did, in which you now owe me.”

Another step.

“After I’ve told you time and time again that you belong to me.” The tone of his voice shifts, turning low and threatening. “You thought this would be over? ”

Another step, longer in length.

Your heart stutters in your chest.

You step back. He stops.

“I—” You hesitate, unsure of anything anymore. “Yes?” you manage, the word barely holding together. “Neither of us ever wanted this, did we? So… what’s the point?”

His eyes turn dark as they narrow to slits, and he’s moving again.

“Point?” he spits. The sound is broken glass. “You’re asking me if there’s a point? Even after I heard you cry out so desperately for me?”

Another step.

Your eyes dart to your mare.

“When I’ve seen how those once-timid eyes now look at me?”

One last step, and he’s before you. He dips his head, his gaze locking with yours.

“This thing between us is not over,” he hisses.

Another feeling claws its way into your chest.

“Then… what is it that you want from me?”

Sukuna tilts his head, his four red eyes fusing onto yours. The question seems straightforward, but his expression suggests there’s more to it.

In the distance, shouting voices. It snaps both of your heads toward the commotion. Along with it comes a faint, dull pressure. You recognize that pulsing energy now, the signature of someone like you. Someone like Sukuna.

“It’s time to go,” the King of Curses growls.

You pull away from him, darting toward Ayana, but he grabs your wrist and lifts you up, placing you into his mount’s saddle.

The moment he touches you, something hurts. Pain stabs into your skull. That same chanting mantra tripping over itself again and again.

Leave him. Leave him. Leave him. Leave him. Leave him.

“Please, just release me from this!” you breathe, trying to slip off, but his hand clamps down on your thigh, keeping you in place.

“No.”

Gripping his horse’s mane and swinging his leg over, he positions himself behind you—a solid wall with no chance of escape. His lower hands slot around your waist and take Ayana’s reins with his upper left hand, and his mounts in the other.

“Say goodbye to the north, wife. You won’t be seeing it again. But I’m sure you’ll find it comforting when we return home.”

Home.

Home…

The shrine.

“No!” You lurch forward, your battered body thrashing in his grip, setting both horses on edge as they toss their heads with alarm.

“Yuna!”

The name tears from your throat. A desperate plea. The last fragile hope you cling to—wherever she is.

Was she safe? She has to be safe.

She’ll come for me.

Won’t she? To protect you. She has to. She promised she would.

Sukuna’s hands tighten. He lets out a frustrated breath.  

“When will you learn?” he growls, his mouth close to the crest of your ear.

One of his hands releases your writhing frame, moving to the side of your head.

You freeze, sucking in a tight breath as his energy suddenly spikes.

Leave him!

Leave him!

Leave him!

“Sukun—!”

Flick!

His fingers snap against your temple. 

A sharp pain erupts behind your eyes. An even sharper pulse eats its way through the fragile tissue of your skull like fire, devouring a blight that was never meant to be there. All at once, it silences that screaming chant into a whisper, and clarity comes in the form of a heartbeat. The rhythm of two heartbeats, yours and his, the one knocking into your back.

Your lips part, weakly moving to form words. They try to tell him you’re grateful for what he’s done. Try to say you never wanted to leave him. Try to tell him more. Try to open that bottled-up jar and show him things still tucked safely inside.

But no words come. Just slurred mumbles, your eyes swimming, your head sagging until it rests against his sternum.

“Shh, you’re okay,” he coos against the side of your face, his voice mingling with the creaking of leather.

Black rots the outline of your vision as the mount sways into motion.

You feel your husband's hand trail from your temple to your scalp, softly combing his fingers through your tangled hair.

It feels nice.

You want more.

I want you, Sukuna.

The shadows come closer, swallowing the last of your consciousness.

I need you, Sukuna.

Eyes collapsing shut, your body becomes weightless, but he doesn’t let you fall.

His lower hands slide down, steadying you. One braces your hip, the other presses firmly against your waist, holding you securely as though you might shatter if he ever let you go.

The warmth of him spreads through you, filling you up. You feel safe, protected. Feelings you haven’t known in years… decades… a lifetime… ever.

You want more.

You need more.

I think… I know… my heart is yours… Sukuna.

Like sinking into honey, you lose yourself to the weight of exhaustion until, at last, you surrender to the dark embrace.

🔗 Chapter 29

[ludolka]

(ignore the other ask from me please lmao, i forgot to press anon)

"But this also put a new question mark on their Grian theories because that’d mean he must have been “turned” at some point? Which wouldn’t make a lot of sense for any of their current theories"

This immediately made me think one of their theories could be a changeling, Just in case you needed more fodder for TIGS theories on what he is

-🦊anon

First, don’t worry dear 🦊 anon, that ask has been deleted and I didn’t look at your user, so your anonymity is safe <3

Second, I love how I got these two asks like 5 minutes apart

Third, I admittedly don’t know an awful lot about folklore and mythology, so asks like these are much appreciated <3

But now onto the actual answering lmao; Changeling is such a good theory for Grian, after a bit of research I’ve gathered changelings end up short (Grian is short), not just babies and young kids get taken (so check on him “turning” at some point in his life) and a characteristic of them is uncanny insight (which Grian does have)

And after the dreams they could chalk up the wings to be a fae thing as well? Like unusual fae wings or maybe he could have changed his wings to look differently. Plus fae are able to dream travel !

Though the only reason they may somewhat be unsure about this theory is that fae don’t mess with electronics and cameras the way Grian does. But they haven’t 100% dismissed kitsunes (form changing, electricity powers, dream travel abilities) either because them thinking of a creature that at least checks half/majority of the boxes is still better than them having no ideas or theories

[16-puppies]

POLL: Is your physical nonhumanity genetic?

In an effort to learn more about physical nonhumanity and the community surrounding it, i’ve developed a poll for physical nonhumans who consider their physical nonhumanity genetic! Please consider answering and reblogging for reach, thank you!

Note:: if you are rude to others about their personal beliefs regardless of whether someone is experiencing delusions or psychosis or not, you will be promptly blocked. This poll is for everyone: CLCZ, endels, holotheres, nonhumans whose identity isn’t affected by delusions, etc!

If you are confused about any of the “yes” options and whether or not they apply to you, here are some examples below!

Please note that these are just Examples and not the ONLY way you can fall into any of these categories. If you are still confused about any of them, feel free to post a comment or reblog with your questions

Yes, because of genetic disability

Examples:

Genetic disability where “normal” human activities are made difficult in some way, leading you to a belief that you are physically nonhuman

Dehumanization because of a genetic disability leading to a belief that you are physically nonhuman

The genetic disability includes physical traits that appear “nonhuman” in some sense, leading to a belief that you are physically nonhuman.

Yes, because of ancestry or ethnicity

Examples:

Family lore/legend alludes to nonhuman ancestry

Ancestry can be directly or indirectly linked to nonhumans (i.e. an Irish person with a last name close to or within Ossory, leading them to believe they descended from Faoladh [Irish Werewolves aka the Wolves of Ossory])

You believe you are a direct descendant of a nonhuman creature, whether it be a known one from a legend or an unknown one

Yes, because my parents are/were nonhuman which means I’m genetically nonhuman

Note: can also include grandparents if you feel this fits. Generally supposed to describe recent DNA/Ancestry rather than the above option.

Examples:

One or both birth parents identify as nonhuman, and you identify as nonhuman as well, and because of this you believe you are genetically nonhuman

You are adopted and believe either one or both of your birth parents are nonhuman, meaning you are genetically nonhuman

You believe your parents carry a nonhuman gene, and while they aren’t necessarily nonhuman the gene expressed in you making you genetically nonhuman

Yes, because I’m genetically a fae/changeling/etc affected by a veil/glamour

Note: if you don’t believe you are affected by a veil/glamour, feel free to choose this option regardless

Examples:

You believe you’re a nonhuman who was swapped with a human baby during your infancy and took its place (i.e. Changelings)

Yes, because I was genetically tested on

Examples:

You were originally part of a different, nonhuman species but after genetic experiments you were morphed into your current humanoid form

You were originally fully human but after genetic experiments are now partially or fully nonhuman

[bumblepony]

Tess Lives Fic Rec (Outbreak Version)

Hi all, I've been working on this for a little while, and I'm really excited to finally share it. Here are my Tess Lives fic recs in no particular order! These are all fics where the outbreak still happens, I have a separate list coming of non-outbreak fics.

the sun’s probably shining in wyoming by @march-flowerr - Tess lives. She and Joel build a life in Jackson. A day in each season over the course of a year. - Mature

but it’s golden, like daylight by @becomethesun - During their first days back in Jackson, Tess, Joel, and Ellie grapple with the weight of their shared and individual pasts, and begin to find a sense of peace, belonging, and family.

Drifters, a book of Tess and Joel by @hypnotisedfireflies - This series comprises of: 1. A mostly canon-compliant origin story of Tess, following the first 20 years between Outbreak Day and the events of TLOU and 2. A very non-canon-compliant fix-it fic that you can either take or leave, depending on whether you like happy endings or not and 3. A collection of stories based on reader prompts that further the tale. - Mature

Future Proof by Capricordinary on AO3 - Joel is somehow transported into the past, well before any of the events of the Last of Us Season One take place. Armed with the knowledge of everything that happened the first time around, he makes it his mission to find four year old Ellie, reunite his family and find a safe place for them in the Wyoming wilderness. Once he establishes himself as Jackson's leader, he gets to work giving Ellie the childhood and the family she deserves.

and in the end i'd do it all again (i think you're my best friend) by @seethesunny and @bradfordchens - More simply put: Tess and Joel each end up in their own time loop.

in flagrante delicto by @penandinkprincess - 5 times ellie interrupted joel and tess having some alone time, and 1 time they got all the way to the finish line - Mature

babyverse by @penandinkprincess - A series of fics where Joel and Tess find Ellie in the QZ when she's 4 and decide to keep her, the story evolves from there.

'Tess Lives' AU by @adhdprincess - Remember that crazy AU where Tess died? Glad that didn't really happen.

part of something good by @two-birds-alone-together - Tess lives. Some things change. Some things stay the same.

patching up by melforbes on AO3 - In Jackson, Tess stitches up one of Joel's injuries. - Mature

Bone Of My Bone by @emilylawsons - It takes him two years after they arrive in Jackson to convince her to marry him.

A New Dawn by @ameerawrites - One morning in Jackson, Tess reflects on grief and healing.

Taste your beating heart by @finnelfin - Tess's traveling companions are keeping secrets. (Werewolf AU) - Mature

A woman is a changeling by @treadlightlymydarlinggirl - Tess Lives and she makes the journey with Joel and Elle across the country. - Mature

where the heart is by queenkiller on AO3 - Tess makes it to Jackson.

dance by firelight by @raffinit - He’s filled with a rush of something he can’t quite place; a giddy sort of youthfulness he hasn’t felt in decades. A faded memory of prom nights and slow dances underneath disco balls lingers in the back of his mind. The overwhelming urge to touch her, feel her fingers slipping between his; to feel the weight of her body pressed against him as they danced — He moves before he can help himself. Guided, as he always is; blindly, devotedly, to her side. - Mature

At the end here, I am adding a few authors who have written so many good Tess Lives stories it's best to just go pursue their AO3 pages.

tessaservopoulos - @bradfordchens on Tumblr - Mature

Glitter_Gecko - @seethesunny on Tumblr - Mature

sillylily07 - Mature

Last, I am going to add my Tess Lives fics under the cut because I really am not trying to toot my own horn, but I want to have them on the list so I can have them all in one place.

When The Time is Wrong, We Make It Right - IE: Time Travel-Timey Whimey - What would happen if Tess, Joel, Tommy & Maria went back in time to 1992? What would change, and what would stay the same? - Mature

To Wash Internal Blackness White - IE: Five times Tess hugs Tommy, and one time he hugs her. A Tess Lives Storyline. - Mature

I'll Keep Us Together Whatever It Takes - IE: Tess makes it out of the museum, and she and Joel need a minute to process. - Mature

Above Thy Deep And Dreamless Sleep - IE: Joel and Tess are looking for a place to stay on Christmas Eve.

We're Only Going So Far - IE: Dying in your sleep isn't how anyone expects to go, not in this world, least of all Joel... and yet.

If Only We Were Pirates - Tess gets kidnapped, and Joel goes and rescues her.

Two Blue Lines Like a Crossroads - IE: Tess finds out that she might not be too old to be a mother after all. - Mature