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ebonyslasher · 9 months

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Hello! Hru? I love ur blog soo muchh♡ may I request human! Reader (from Kagome's world) who's really strong? Like the reader surprised the Inuyasha men (inuyasha, naraku and sesshomaru:> if you're not comfortable with these you can always change!) When a demon tried to attack her & the men tried to save reader but stop when they see her beating the demon up with bare hands or with a weapon she found brutally💀😭 And they just stood there dumbfounded like how tf🧍‍♂️? And when they ask how is she so strong, reader just shrugs and goes like "martial arts?"

Thank you and feel free to use any pronounces! I just wanna read sumn for once that doesn't have weak reader pls I'm so tired 💀💀

Hey anon! Sorry this is so late. I do agree with you on the last part. I'm tired of the weak reader all the time too. People gotta switch it up you know?

Strong ass Human!Reader in the Feudal Era with Inuyasha, Sesshomaru, and Naraku:

Inuyasha:

Reveling in the heroism of saving a nearby village, the group started their journey elsewhere. Trekking through the forest, your rag-tag group ran into a boisterous pig yokai. Who, unfortunately, became smitten with your looks.

"I will have you as my bride. And we can make all the hanyou I want!"

Ew. The initial response was to ignore the pig. There've been many demons who would bother the group. And, after the fight you all came from, you just wanted to make camp. Inuyasha grumbled a quick, "Piss off," as the group passes by.

But, it seemed that the Pig was serious about his stupid claim. He bares his teeth and shoots forward at you, grabbing your legs. World tipping over, your head thumps against a patch of lush grass. How lucky. However, you felt a strong pull on your leg, dragging your body away from your friends.

Hell fuck no! In the midst of the dragging, your bag was in the perfect position to grab easily. With how quickly things happened, Inuyasha jumpstarts to save you. You grab the bulky hammer in your bag, hiding it from view.

The pig yokai guffaws and throws you over his shoulder. "When I see someone worthy of being a bride, it's my right to claim-OOUGH"

One hit to the dome scratched some skin off and left his brain to rattle. "WHAT THE-." The next swing made contact with his cheek, sending sanguine liquid onto the ground. The pig stood there shocked, with blood leaking from his mouth.

He gets angry and charges at you, again. This time, he wouldn't get you. Grounding yourself, you kick him back, which sends him flying back a few feet. Taking charge, you jump and start to gruesomely work on his head with the hammer.

"What da HELL!!! Y/N!!!" Inuyasha yells. He's totally flabbergasted. His eyes and mouth are so wide, it's comical. There's the desire to step in and protect you, but it's so impressed how strong and ferocious those swings were. Inuyasha didn't want to interrupt. It was kind of hot.

Although, Inuyasha is a little peeved that you didn't let him know how strong you were. The way you sent him back with that kick was unexpected. He starts cheering you on.

"Way to go Y/N!" He's standing there smiling with his hands on his hips. Once the beast was knocked out (or dead, who cares). You turn back to head to the group.

"Y/n that was so cool! When the hell did you get so strong?"

"Uhhhh....fighting with my cousins growing up?" You shrugged. "I just want to go lay down, can we hurry up and make camp somewhere?"

Now, he's wondering what type of humans your cousins are.

2. Sesshomaru

This is one of the worst fears you had. Spiders. In your time, you could easily avoid an encounter with one of these wretched creatures. Modern houses and bug repellents helped tremendously. Not going out into nature and definitely NOT living in Australia did too. Since you've traveled back to the feudal era and were forced to interact with nature, your luck has been tested. And it just ran out today.

A fucking spider demon appeared. It was grotesque, smelly, and an abomination. And it was big too. It wanted to attempt to best Lord Sesshomaru in battle. Sesshomaru, of course, refuses. So, the dumb thing tries to shoot webs at you. Thankfully you dodged.

The hate for spiders took over your body. The fear you had compounded on top of that, making you scarier than the demon. It tries to stick its hairy and pointy leg through you, but you were quicker. With desperate and angered bare hands, you tore off its leg.

The spider yokai shouts in pain. Taking advantage of it's pause, you quickly tear off each limb. One by one.

Sesshomaru, in all his glory, stands there and says nothing. Does nothing. It really doesn't look like he's reacting but he is. The Demon Lord is extremely surprised that he's tense. His eyes are wide. Only thing that's slack is his hands.

The dagger in your side pouch begs to be utilized. It's appeased by you yanking it out and stabbing the yokai in one of it's many eyes. The screams, the power, and the needed imagery of you decimating this spider was iconic.

To Sesshomaru, it was obvious you were untrained. The ferocity of your actions cover it well. He's impressed and takes mental note to start training you. Maybe, have you be a little more graceful with your movements.

"This one had no indication of the strength you hold." Sesshomaru states.

".......I just really fucking hate spiders." you sardonically reply.

"...Hn. Noted. This one concurs with your sentiment."

Silently, he is pleased with this discovery. A small smile graces his face after you turn away

3. Naraku

Narakus' lower demons were soooo annoying. Their existence was one that irritated you. Irritating when they sucked dick to Naraku and when they tried to be condescending towards you. Just because you were human. The audacity sent you over the edge.

The edge it sent you over was one close by. One of those things became unruly in your presence. Acting as it was better than you, the ugliness of it all. The decision to put it back in its place was swift and malicious. An example to others who felt the same.

Precise, your hand shoots out to grab the lowly yokai. Chucking it, the demon bashes against a nearby rock. It's body twitches on the ground, confused on what just occurred. Slowly, you walk over. With no urgency or care. It felt like you were Michael Myers in that moment. Once you made it over, you stare before stomping it. One more. And again. Again. Again. AGAIN. AGAIN. Until there was a crater in the dirt it crumpled in.

Naraku, some distance away, observed the scene with shocked eyes, his mouth slightly open. "This human...!"

He is pissed that you hid this information from him. And how did he miss this? He frequently spied on you, sent his wasps when he couldn't make a puppet! But now that he knows....you can be of use for him. You're a bit too....alluring to be considered a lackey, but he needed to have control over you somehow. A sly grin graces his face upon observing the aftermath. The squished gruel of guts and blood staining the ground and your shoes.

He approaches, with a questioning stare. "Y/n...pray tell, how did you aquire this power?"

"Oh, my parents had me do martial arts since I was a kid. Plus, I was angry."

All Naraku can think is how nice it was of your parents to prepare you for him and his deeds.

#black reader #inuyasha #sesshoumaru #naraku #inuyasha x reader #sesshoumaru x reader #naraku x reader

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rshmra · 11 months

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PRETTY BOY!

plot: niki swears he met the girl of his dreams at the convenience store late one night- however, his discovery proves to be misguided. the "girl" he likes is actually just a really pretty boy, and he's the main vocalist of the new and wildly popular boy group of four, X_CAPE.

pairing: niki x m!idol!reader

genre: smau. strangers -> best friends -> lovers. fluff. crack. light angst. love at first sight. m!idol!reader. meet cute-ish.

warnings: crude and often mature humor. profanity all over the place. timestamps are always wrong. "kys" + "kms" jokes. likely cringe.

status: in progress

updates: typically once a week

SPAM LIKE = BLOCK!

taglist: send an ask or comment to be tagged

@silkentides @nikikids @totoroblop @winter-world @phantom-butterfly @simsoobean @byu @noredplz @sh0uj0-r3i @onementally-unstabel-kid @thepeachyhub @en-riki @ao5riki @bearseulgs @le0-0nidas @gothhyucks @to-toad @ddeonubaby @nootnootpinguuu @sunseeking-cryptid @priochebun @lanamoonroh @rodygr @mikahrh @mutlishipperfangirl @i9tky000 @heelover5 @cha0thicpisces @xrvrqs @strwberrydinosaur

masterlist

profiles:

one: virgin village two: supervision required

chapters:

one: you had one job (0.5k words)

two: hot "girls" (0.9k words)

three: saranghey ��

four: who tf is daniel

five: potassium yttrium sulfur (1.1k words)

six: houseophobia

seven: kiki do u love me 😏

seven and a half: sharting chevys

eight: the big meat (2.5k words)

bonus: suck on deezpatch (0.7k words)

nine: YAUR DA LAY HEE WHO 🗣️

ten: in front of eunchae's salad (1.6k words)

eleven: emo shins (2.4k words)

twelve: 🌚🌝

thirteen: a turn of events?

fourteen: the turn of events! (1.1k words)

fifteen: chaeri snorts meth (1.4k words)

sixteen: bubba booboo bear

seventeen: best buds! (3k words)

eighteen: the real patriotz

notes: i haven't seen a lot of male reader stories for myself, so decided to write one on my own. (i got mistaken for a girl at the convenience store so thats the idea inspo💀) if you don't like that, i ask that you don't read. this is my first work so please let me know what i can do better!

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mystar-girl57 · 1 year

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Hey gurlll, me again 😂 can I ask for a drabble of lo'ak being an absolute mama's boy, like going to the reader crying cuz he knows she'll save him from Jake's scolding and probably give Jake a piece of her mind on 'not to scold my baby boy' and lo'ak being all smug , smirking at neteyam at how he can get away with everything with just a "mama please 🥺" , i just can't seem to get this out of my head 😂😂😂 i live for clingy lo'ak + some lo'ak and reader bonding and Jake being sulky at how lo'ak teases HIM now 😂😂😂

Oh my ewya this boy.

Okay so before you and Jake even get near to making up, before you leave the camp Lo’ak always thought himself to be closer with you than his dad but he was never really open about it. He just knew that he was happy when you could come to his defense when his dad would yell at him in High Camp

Now fast forward to Awa’altu after the battle against Quaritch and you and Jake are starting to heal Lo’ak defiantly becomes more attached to you (and for this Yes, Neteyam is alive.)

Jake would get onto Lo’ak for something like not doing the chores and you would just happen to be coming around the corner. Cue the fake tears.

Lo’ak’s body collided with yours making you stumble backwards. He hugged you tightly starting to “cry”. Instantly you felt concerned and retuned the hug rubbing his back. “Baby, easy, easy.” You tried to soothe, gently pulling away to cup your son’s face. “What’s the matter?” Your voice was so gentle and kind, unaware of what was going on. “Da- Dad, he,” Lo’ak started to get choked up again and your head turned to Jake quickly, a harsh look on your face.

“We talked about this.” You mouthed. Jake opened his mouth in protest but he was unable to find the words, were you seriously buying his son’s ploy?!

And this was neither the first or last time that Lo’ak would come to you crying about something that Jake did making your husband more offended.

“Jake I have had about enough of your behavior! You are constantly berating Lo’ak even Tuk and Kiri are coming to me about it.”

“ExCuSe Me WhAt?!”

Thats right. His own daughters, his little sweethearts have gotten in on it too. They would come to you at random times to tell you that Lo’ak was crying or that Jake was starting stuff and soon the village could you see you grabbing your husband by the ear and dragging him away, it did not matter if he was talking to Tonowari or not.

After a while Jake does start to get back at the kids, esspecially when Lo’ak sends Jake smug looks as he cuddles with his mama when it’s Jake’s “turn” to. Jake just ends up one night getting in bed and laying on top of you nearly crushing you.

“Ma’Jake I cannot breathe!” You gasped from under him as all his weight was now laying on you. Jake simply hummed in response and without you being able to see he smirked at Lo’ak who was pouting. Was it childish? Yes? Did Jake care? No. You were you probably going to pull his ear and call him a skxawng? Probably.

Now the one sibling who did not aid in Lo’ak’s schemes was big brother Neteyam. After the ship incident and him getting shot he (plus the words of his parents) helped him decide to not follow Lo’ak as much anymore. Neteyam though was now a full man on the clan and he would need Lo’ak to help him out sometimes. Caring for the Skimwings or going on hunts, which Lo’ak did want to do in general but because he was being asked to rather than him deciding, he didn’t want to help.

“Mother please tell Lo’ak that it is his turn to feed the Ilus!” Neteyam huffed watching you feed Lepay. Lo’ak let out a groan and turned to you, “Mama please.” You let out a deep sigh, giving your Ilu another fish and turning to Lo’ak and Neteyam. “Look Neteyam just give your bother a hand. Ewya knows the last thing we need is for them to get out.”

While you had no favorites (Tuk) you did try to help and make compromises where it was needed. You were well aware of what Lo’ak was doing to get your attention away from Jake and you would gladly play along. You honestly enjoyed seeing your husband all sulky and annoyed because he knows he can’t fight a child but you do draw the line at it going against the siblings.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

#jake sully #neteyam #neteyam sully #jake sully fic #jake sully x reader #jake sully imagine #kiri sully #lo’ak #tuk sully #jake sully x #Lo’ak x reader #Lo’ak x mom!reader

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bellafragolina · 4 months

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So i had an idea for a request~ how about Leon and Ingo (Separate) being Vampire hunters but they inadvertently fall for one of the vampires they were sent to slay~?

A person falling for a monster is delicious, but it being someone sworn to kill the monster too? Extra delicious.

🍓🍓🍓

Ingo:

The night is dark, perpetual. Ingo supposes it's deliberate, being a creature such as yourself. You prefer the moonlight, shy from the sun despite craving warmth.

Ingo knows that now.

It's been. . . a month? Two? Ingo isn't quite sure, not after the nasty tumble he took down the mountain on the way to your hidden home. There's a dull throb through his temple even now, even after being so cared for, but he can ignore it most days.

On those he can't, you bring him medicinal tea and warm meals, letting him curl up in bed all day should he want.

It's so unlike the compound. He trained there for years, honing his body and mind alike to be perfect for killing creatures like you. Monsters that feed off people, killing them viciously, wastefully.

But you have people in the town nearby. They come to you, freely offering an arm when you begin to hunger. And you make sure they are not harmed in return. Your hearing, your sense of smell, all of it attuned to the village you swear to protect.

Yet, even as they freely offer you blood, you're so careful. Ingo has spied on your feedings enough time to see how gentle you are, fangs pricking just enough to allow you to slurp down the blood. And your people never flinch, merely smile, even laughing as you fret and bandage their wounds with your mouth still stained crimson.

And Ingo finds himself wondering what it feels like, pricked by your fangs and caressed by your lips.

You are nothing like what he was taught. You are kindness and sacrifice, for he sees the slight hollowness to your cheeks even when flushed from a fresh feeding.

You never mention it, but you must know what he is, why he's here. You don't seem afraid, if anything you seem. . . accepting of it. Of his duty. You haven't taken his weapons, haven't locked him away or restrained him or used him for ransom. You didn't leave him to die.

And now he doesn't want to see you dead either.

Leon:

Leon hates the world he lives in.

He hates the need to hunt down monsters to protect who he loves. He hates that he was chosen as the town's Hunter, the protector of everyone, strongest in the village, maybe the region if the whispers are true.

He hates that all of it, the training and the blood and the sweat and the tears, has led to this.

Leon never knew you were what he had to hunt. You hid it so well, with gloves and hats and careful smiles. Never had Leon seen you raise a hating hand to anyone. He'd only seen you tend bruises and cuts, read stories and carry firewood for anyone who needed it.

You were an endless stream of kindness and aid.

And now here you lie, cut down by Leon's own sword.

A raw, choking noise breaks from his throat. It's drowned out by the crowd behind him, a mess of torches and pitchforks that mar and mold everyone in a wall of screaming anger.

How could everyone had been fooled by you, a monster amongst the mortals of the village?

How easily they had turned on you, realizing your true self. All your kindness was forgotten, all the trust you had garnered lost in a fleeting moment of fear and hatred.

Leon wants to hate you too. You tricked him, everyone, yet you lay before him, wounded by him, and you don't fight back.

He knows you could. You could destroy him in an instant, but you don't. You lie there and you take it. And Leon hates it.

Hates that it's you he has to kill.

Hates that his hands are shaking.

Hates that he's crying over your dying body.

Hates that it always, always had to end this way.

🍓🍓🍓

ta-da! hope i did it justice!!

~Renee

#ingo x reader #submas x reader #leon x reader #champion leon x reader #pokemon imagines #pokemon x reader

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the-californicationist · 4 months

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The Good Death -- (Rudy/FMC)

Rodolfo Parra x Female OC

Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra finds himself in the middle of the Caatinga forest of Brazil, looking for a stolen weapons cache. When he comes across a beautiful hitch-hiker wandering alone in the middle of the night, he gets a little more from the village than he wants to.

TW: mentions of rape, dubious consent, femdom, light bondage, edgeplay, kidnapping, canon-typical violence, hauntings

January summers in the Caatinga forest were as brutal as they came. It was an unforgiving landscape, full of cactus and scrub brush, layered with the sharpest shards and rock faces, designed to cut and slice. To make matters worse, the weather was deadly. The Caatinga would climb to almost 37 degrees celsius at the sun’s cruel zenith, and it would drop only ten degrees cooler by midnight.

Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra was nothing but sweaty. He could feel it between his toes, under his arms, beneath his balls — he was losing pounds of water a day and struggling to drink enough to rehydrate himself. Training in these conditions was brutal, but he wasn’t here for the Exército Brasileiro; he was on a reconnaissance mission.

According to Los Vaqueros’ intel, the Las Almas cartel had accepted a weapons’ cache from China, shipped through Brazil, and set to arrive at the Port of Houston in just thirty days. Rudy’s mission was to locate and tag the cache, and he was running out of time.

Being asked to find something lost in the Caatinga was like being tasked with finding it in Hell, although, Rudy thought, Hell may have been milder.

Arial arrays had helped him narrow down his search to a few key hiding places, but it wasn’t just the terrain that was unforgiving. Beneath the forest lay a complex network of caves and tunnels, as dangerous as they were beautiful, and searching through them would be almost impossible.

But, Rudy wasn’t one to give up so easily. He was heading to the village of Nossa Senhora da Boa Morte. There was a local guide who had seen some unmarked crates near a gorge in the area, and he had agreed to lead Rudy to them. The drive out to the village was long, pitch black, and full of foreign sounds. Rudy missed his well-known mountains of Monterrey, and he was anxious to be back with his team.

Suddenly, his truck lurched to a stop, and it felt like he had hit something big.

“A la verga!” Rudy grunted, slamming on the brakes.

He wrenched open the door with a loud creak and went out to check the damage. He kept one hand on his gun just to be safe. There was nothing in the road. He circled the truck just to be sure. All of his tires were in tact, and they all seemed free of damage, so he got back in the car and shut the door with a loud bang.

As soon as he did, something flashed, white and sharp, in the road. It was almost like lightning, but there was no rain and no sound. He could only hear the idling of his vehicle. As he stared at the road illuminated by his headlights, Rudy tried to focus his vision. He thought he could see something just in the shadow of where his headlights couldn’t reach.

He drove forward, slowly, inching his way up to the object, only to discover that it was a human form. A woman. She was facing away from his truck, staring out into the blackness of the Caatinga, unmoving. Her dress was long and white like a bride’s, whipping around her body in the night wind.

Rudy rolled down his window, trying out what little Brazilian Portuguese he had,

“Ei! Precisa ajuda, senhora?”

She didn’t answer him. He decided to stay in the truck, crossing himself before slowly driving up to her. He kept his window cracked and pulled out his gun, steadying his nerves.

The woman turned to look at him, and she seemed… unnatural, somehow. She was beautiful, that much was certain. In fact, Rudy wasn’t sure he’d ever seen such beauty.

“Precisa de uma carona? A ride? Do you need help?”

Perhaps she didn’t understand his terrible Portuguese accent. He tried to ask her in English, and she smiled. It was unnerving, but Rudy didn’t feel threatened. He pointed to the other side of the truck and unlocked the door. She walked around the front of the truck, the white of her linen dress blinding him, and she climbed in beside him. He kept his gun in his lap. Rudy may not have felt like he was in danger, but he certainly wasn’t trusting.

They rode in silence for the rest of the journey. He had tried to ask her things, and he wasn’t sure where he was supposed to be taking her, but he planned to ask his guide to translate when he got to the village.

It felt like hours had passed, but they finally made it. Rudy pulled into the small ranch where his contact was located, and he stepped out of the truck. He knocked on the small wooden door of the house and waited, angling himself so he could still see the woman in the passenger seat.

The guide came to the door, and Rudy recognized him from the video calls.

“Boa noite, meu amigo. I’m Rodolfo Parra with Los Vaqueros.”

“Claro. Good evening, Senhor Parra. I’m João. Welcome to our village. Come in, come in.”

João’s English was excellent, so Rudy didn’t continue with his Portuguese, but he did ask for help,

“Sorry, can you help me translate? I seemed to have picked up a hitch-hiker and —”

“A what?” João seemed confused.

“A rider. She is in the truck…” Rudy turned around and found no one there.

She was gone.

“There was a woman…” Rudy ran back to the truck and opened the doors, looking for her.

“A woman, you said? Was she wearing a white dress?” João asked in a knowing tone.

Rudy turned back to him, his eyes glassy and wide,

“Yes, but…”

“You showed her a kindness, amigo. Perhaps she will show one back to you.”

“Who is she?” Rudy asked, taking his bags into the tiny ranch house.

João shut the door behind him and ushered him inside. They sat at the kitchen table together, and the old wooden chair creaked loudly, complaining about Rudy’s heavy weight, his muscles and bones not meant for small farm chairs.

João took a bottle of cachaça from the pantry and poured some for himself and his guest, telling Rudy the story,

“She is a bruxa. Long ago, back during the times when there was still conflict, much before either of us could celebrate um dia da Independência, there was a beautiful woman. She was so beautiful, some say she had been blessed by the Virgim Maria herself. She fell in love with a native man, but he was Tupi, not Portuguese. So, thinking she was fair game, a priest raped her on her wedding day in the chapel on the hillside.”

“Madre de Dios…” Rudy drank his wine, only half-believing this ghost story. The woman in his truck had been very real. She had smelled like sweat and dried herbs. She was real; she had to be.

“She died, and her Tupi lover was slain. The next night, the chapel burned to the ground with the priest inside. Ever since then, this village has respected her as an omen. She does not appear often, but when she does, we make sure to heed her warnings.”

“What warning does she have for me, then?” Rudy asked.

“Eu não sei, senhor. But, whatever it is, you’d better listen.”

A week passed like a slow train, long and heavy, the heat and the pressure billowing around Rudy and all of his attempts to locate the cache. He was running out of options. There was one final location he’d not yet checked, but it was nearly inaccessible. Rudy asked João how to traverse the ridge that led to the potential site, but he wouldn’t allow it.

João shook his head,

“No, you cannot go there. It is too dangerous, even for you who knows the mountains well.”

“I have to. This is my last chance,” Rudy insisted.

“You’d be better off coming in from above. Use your expensive drone! I can draw you a map up, but you won’t be able to come back down. The rocks are too brittle. No one has survived.”

“I don’t have a choice, amigo.”

João sighed, but he produced a map anyway. He also loaded Rudy down with supplies and equipment, in hopes that some of it would keep him alive.

It took Rudy most of the morning to even reach the first flat part of the large ravine. He decided not to make camp, eager to complete the climb. Unfortunately, it was near dark until he made it to the next stopping point, a small cave cut out in the side of the large, gray gorge.

There was something so beautiful about how haunting it was in the Caatinga, but Rudy couldn’t help but feel like he was being watched the whole time he made his ascent. He camped for the night, and tried to rest as much as he could.

When he awoke, he was shocked by his surroundings. The daylight revealed that it was not a small cave at all but the opening to a wide, hellish pit. If he had rolled over in the night, he may not have woken up at all. Rudy crossed himself, gathering his gear and heading back to the ridgeline.

The cache was there, right where he thought it would be, and right where João had spotted it as well. They must have used a helicopter to drop it in, and Rudy saw the large metal clip had been cut instead of detached. How they planned to get it out, he had no idea. They’d dropped it in a hell of a hurry, though.

Rudy planted the tracking devices, hiding them as best he could, and then surveyed his downward climb. He tried to get his footing on the craggy rockface, balancing himself on the sharp shards, but to no avail. Once he started to apply his weight to his foot, the rock would crack and crumble beneath his toes.

Hours went by, and he’d barely made it fifty yards down the cliff. It would be nightfall soon, and if he was stuck out there climbing in the dark, his chances of survival were low. The climbing anchors were unstable, and he’d needed too many of them, making the cliff unpredictable and unsafe.

Rudy spotted a shallow, flat ledge just below him. If he could just make it there, he might be able to rest long enough to try again.

He placed another anchor, and when he released his grip, he fell. The last thing he saw was the carabiner snap as he tumbled into the darkness.

“Ah, you are awake,” a voice called out to him in the darkness.

Rudy tried to open his eyes. His ears were ringing, and it felt like a hammer was pounding into his head. He was in agony, and for some reason, immobile.

He tried to sit up, his eyes adjusting to the light. But, he was tied down. As he regained more of his consciousness, he realized that he was trapped on a long, wooden table. Above him, old lanterns glowed dimly in the night, and there were wooden beams that arched upwards into a high ceiling.

Rudy gasped when he felt a cool compress soak down the back of his neck. It was her, he knew it. He could smell her scent; that sage and vanilla. The woman in white… the bruxa.

Her hands traveled up his spine, pressing the wet cloth hard against the base of his head and then around to the scratchy stubble on his jaw. Rudy felt the sting of adrenaline rush through his body as his eyes followed her, wide with anticipation. She’d stripped him bare, and his skin glowed in the low firelight, illuminating shining scars and old tattoos. As she circled him, stalking around him, she traced the outlines of them; his Los Vaqueros tattoo on his arm, the Virgin Mary on his back. She never took her hands off of his body until finally, she came around the front of him so he could see her in full view.

“What’s your name?” Rudy asked, trying to buy himself some time. His captive training kicked into high gear.

“I have had many names. First, their god named me Eve. Then, his people named me Lilith. Then, their children named me as a demon. What would you like to name me, Rodolfo Parra?”

“Whatever you want. Please, let me go,” he bargained with her, looking around for anything useful.

“You will go…” She grabbed his face roughly, “When I am done with you.”

“Okay,” Rudy breathed in a low whisper, his voice husky and dark, “Okay. Whatever you want.”

She let out a warm hum of approval, seeming to enjoy his surrender. She smiled, kissing him full on the lips, letting him taste coconut and cinnamon and that same familiar sage that haunted him in his truck.

“You are what I want, Rodolfo… What will you say to that? Can I still have… whatever I want?”

Rudy swallowed, his spit thick in his mouth, tasting her flavor as it slid down his throat. He nodded,

“Y-yes.”

She didn’t respond with her words. Instead, she mounted him on his wooden altar and all around him, hundreds of candles suddenly came alight, dousing the room in an orange, unearthly glow.

He gasped, and she slapped her palm across his mouth, stopping his breath from escaping. His eyes tracked her every movement. Rudy had never been so captivated by a beauty like hers. It had been a while since any woman had even touched him, and he couldn’t deny that he was hungry for whatever she had in store for him — no matter how occult it was.

“Just a little fun, meu amor. You honored me by taking me back to my village. So many men drive right by, fearful of a woman… or what they may do to one… but not you,” she pet his cheek softly, releasing his mouth, “Were you not afraid?”

Rudy shook his head, following her lips with his, letting her kiss him languidly. He sighed,

“No, I am not afraid of you.”

“Many are,” she moved her mouth down his throat, planting little warm kisses across his jugular vein, over his bulging Adam’s apple, down his chest matted with hair, sweaty and filthy from his climb.

He tugged at the straps across his wrist, threatening to touch her, his desire building,

“I don’t scare easy, bella.”

She laughed at him, but there was no malice in it. If anything, she seemed amused. Then, to Rudy’s sudden shock, she began to rub the wetness between her legs back and forth over his nearly-hard cock, smearing herself all over him. She was still in her dress, but because of the candlelight behind her, Rudy was treated to a nearly transparent view through it.

She dragged her soft folds up and down his dick, slicking his swollen head and sliding back down his generous shaft, pulling and pushing at his velvety, uncut skin. His breathing became more than labored; he was feral. He wanted to touch her so badly.

“Porfa, bella.” Please, pretty girl. He begged her, “Dejame tocarte.” Let me touch you.

“You are touching me, Rodolfo Parra,” she laughed again, throwing her head back and humping herself across him at a quicker pace, torturing him with her softness, feeling the way he shamelessly bucked his hips up toward her.

Then, she lifted away from him, leaving him only to feel the cool rush of air as it skated across his sensitive skin.

He gasped,

“No, please…”

“Shh, shh, shh…” She ran her hand down his cheek again and kissed his mouth, letting him explore her tongue with his, tasting each other in sloppy, lurid movements.

“Please, please…” He couldn’t help but beg her. He was so close, and she had yanked him away from the edge.

One of her hands snaked its way between her legs, reaching for him to jerk him off. The other pulled down the top of her dress, exposing her breasts to him. She wasn’t sure if the face he was making came from her touch or her display, but she didn’t care. She leaned forward just enough for him to barely reach her nipple, taking just the peak into his mouth, straining for more.

Then, he let his long tongue loll out of his jaws and loop itself around her tight nub, teasing her and making her gasp from her own pleasure.

Every time he would get close to the edge, he could feel his cock swell with pressure, setting itself up to shoot its heavy load, she would immediately stop everything she was doing. Eventually, he became a grunting, whimpering mess. Everything she did turned him on. She licked down the center of his chest and it made his cock twitch. When she kissed him on the neck, he thought he might come from just that if she didn’t have such a cruel grip around his cockhead.

Finally, she lowered herself onto him fully, letting his head pop gently into her soaking hole, and then… she just settled herself there. She didn’t rock forward or back; there was nothing but infinite warmth cascading over him like the fires of all of the candles around him. He was burning alive within her core.

“Mi amor! Porfa!” He whined, his voice high and ragged, steeped in pure desperation.

Each chance he got to thrust up inside of her, he took, greedily. But, every bit of reprieve was doled out to him by her, his new master. She was in full control of his pleasure, nearly to the point of pain. His balls were tucked so tight up against his body, he thought they would crush themselves into nothing, desperate to be emptied.

“Do you need to come, Rodolfo?”

“Yes! Please!” Rudy thrashed at his bindings, trying in vain to fuck her with what little leverage that he could, making little noises of discomfort and defeat as she held him steady, “Mmgh, ungh… please… ahh…”

“That’s too bad…” She pretended pity with her tone, removing him from her body and laughing at his screaming protests.

“No! No, please! Don’t… don’t leave me. Porfa, bella, it aches…”

“Your complaints are so loud, tsk tsk… Is that any way to treat your bride?” She chided him playfully, showing him a sinister smile before turning her hips and positioning them over his mouth.

She slowly lowered herself down onto his lips, and he began to eat her with a feral passion. Still, he was begging. By working his jaw against her as fervently as he could, he was making a case for himself, trying to show her that he would be good for her, that he could make her come. He shoved his tongue against her flesh with a furious need, fucking her as best he could with it and tasting himself on her skin.

Rudy could feel her muscles clenching for him, and her skin warmed. Then, he heard her delicious cries, shouted out in complete abandon, echoing across the high ceilings and reverberating back to him, trapping him in a cycle of her pleasure. It was so overwhelming that he felt himself falling over his edge as well, coming into nothing, heavy ropes of his own fluids pooling onto his chest and belly, settling in his navel, sticking in his hair.

When he awoke, he did so with a start. He found himself back in the farmhouse, the sun beaming through the filthy windows. João was standing at the foot of his bed in shock.

Rudy was unsettled by his presence, but could only stare back in confusion.

“Amigo…” João whispered, “You are alive?”

Rudy swung his legs over the edge of the bed, finding himself completely dressed. He turned to João and asked him,

“What happened? What day is it?”

“You… well, you were lost. It had been three days, and we thought the worst. Your friend, Colonel Vargas is here now to collect your things.”

Alejandro stood in the doorway, his eyes red and full of a particular sort of fear and relief all at the same time. He pulled Rudy up into his arms,

“Hermano! What happened?”

“There was a woman… she…” Rudy tried to explain, but he couldn’t. He was having a hard time even remembering what had happened to him.

But then, he could taste her. He could smell her. He could feel her skin as it slid across his. Everything about her surrounded him until he was dizzy.

“Ah! A woman? Well, that explains it. Vamos, you have a fuckin’ mountain of paperwork, pendejo. Haha! A woman… Dios mio…” Alejandro laughed his way out into the hall.

João and Rudy stayed in the small bedroom, staring at each other, knowing the truth yet unable to speak it.

Reblogs and comments deeply appreciated!

AO3 Link

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod #rodolfo rudy parra #rodolfo parra #rodolfo cod #rodolfo rudy parra x female oc #rudy parra smut #rudy parra

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homomenhommes · 25 days

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THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … April 6

1483 – Raphael, Italian Renaissance painter and architect born (d. 1520); Almost every Renaissance painter has been thought to be homosexual by one writer or another over the years, and Raphael, “the divine painter” is no exception.

The clues, however, may be purely coincidental in Raphael’s case. As a young man he was exceedingly beautiful. As an adult he lived together with his two favorite students, Giulio Romano, reputed to be bisexual, and Gianfrancesco Penni. When he died at 37, he left the larger part of his estate to the two young men.

1618 – The Memorandum Of Valverde is a little- known but significant legal text, preserved in the National Historical Archive of Spain. It's been dated to April of 1618 and was sent by twelve residents of the village of Valverde de Alcalá to the governing Council of Castile .

It lists charges against the master of the palace, a Gonzalo Martel de los Rios, of noble origin and probably linked to the major houses of the Spanish aristocracy. He held the lordship of the town. The document lays out a rather detailed set of charges against the Lord, "offenses" committed both by the Lord and by his servants. He and his servants are charged with committing homosexual and "unnatural" acts and with "blasphemy" against God. The neighbors of the Lord called it heretical and insane what the Lord was up to with his servants in the palace.

No one knows what happened with these charges or what happened to the Lord of Valverde. The Lord's reported comment in response to the charges:

¿Qué se le da al fraile que yo sea puto, o moro, o judío? ¿Por qué no puedo yo vivir en la ley que quisiere? ¿Para qué se ha de meter conmigo?

"Why should the priest care that I'm a whore, a moor, or a jew? Why can't I live by the law of my own choosing? Why does he have to mess with me?"

1903 – Charles R. Jackson born (d.1968); relatively little seems to be known about Charles R. Jackson considering he is the author of a well-known novel which is still in print, upon which a multi Oscar-winning film was based - The Lost Weekend.

Born in Summit, New Jersey, as a young man he worked as an editor for local newspapers and in various bookstores in New Jersey, Chicago and New York prior to falling ill with tuberculosis. Jackson spent the years 1927-1931 in sanatoriums and eventually recovered in Switzerland. His successful battle cost him a lung and served as a catalyst for his alcoholism. He returned to New York at the height of the Great Depression and his difficulty in finding work spurred on his binge drinking. His battle to stop drinking started in late 1936 and was largely won by 1938, the year in which he married. During this time he was a free-lance writer and wrote radio scripts.

Jackson is best known for his 1944 novel The Lost Weekend. Made into a critically acclaimed film by Billy Wilder starring Ray Milland in 1945, The Lost Weekend is a semi-autobiographical novel detailing a struggling writer's five-day alcohol binge. He also straggled with a growing fear that he was homosexual. As a youth, he and his brother had both been sexually molested by a local male music teacher.

But it is Jackson's second novel that is interesting to us. In 1946, he published The Fall of Valor, a novel exploring a married man's growing awareness of his homosexuality and his love for a young Marine captain. Jackson was married and appears to have had two daughters, but this novel has the earmarks of first-hand experience. Long out of print, this is a significant 'lost' gay novel of the 20th century, although it appears to have been a critical and financial success at the time.

Jackson was a binge drinker who recovered sufficiently to speak to others in large groups, sharing his experience, strength and hope. He was the first speaker in AA to openly address drug dependence (barbiturates and paraldehyde) as part of his story.

Jackson appears to have spent much of his life battling the twin demons of alcohol dependency and a homosexual nature he struggled to accept, and his intense, compelling description of homoeroticism and sexual obsession in The Fall of Valor has the authenticity of a first person narrative.

After relapsing into alcoholism Jackson became estranged from his family and rented an apartment in New York City that was shared with his male lover in 1965. He died in New York in 1968 after committing suicide, never having managed to defeat his alcoholism.

1955 – The acclaimed non-fiction filmmaker, director, producer, writer and editor Rob Epstein, was born on this date in New Jersey. Epstein has won two Academy Awards for Best Documentary Feature for the films The Times of Harvey Milk and Common Threads: Stories from the Quilt. He has also won four national Emmy Awards, three Peabody Awards, two DuPont Columbia Journalism awards, a Guggenheim Fellowship and numerous other awards for his documentary films.

Epstein began his filmmaking career working on the 1978 film Word is Out: Stories of Some of Our Lives, a documentary about the lives of gay and lesbian Americans. Epstein answered an ad that read: "We are looking for a non-sexist man to work on a documentary film on gay life. No experience necessary, just insane dedication and a cooperative spirit."

In 1984, Epstein won the Academy Award for Documentary Feature at age 29 for The Times of Harvey Milk which he conceived and directed. After its theatrical release in 1985, The Times of Harvey Milk won numerous major awards including the Academy Award, the New York Film Critics Circle Award, the Peabody Award, and three Emmys for Epstein (as director/producer, co-editor, and interviewer), and went on to receive worldwide acclaim and distribution, showing at major film festivals, theaters, and on television on almost every continent. This film was selected by the UCLA Film and Television Archive and the Sundance Institute as a preservation project and a 35mm digitially re- mastered version of the film was released in June 2000.

In 1987, Epstein teamed up with filmmaker Jeffrey Friedman to form Telling Pictures in San Francisco, California. Their first film together was Common Threads: Stories from the Quilt, inspired by the NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt on the Mall in Washington DC. Narrated by Dustin Hoffman, Common Threads tells the dramatic story of the first decade of AIDS in America through stories of five individuals featured in the Quilt. Epstein won his second Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature for Common Threads, which also won the Peabody Award and an Emmy for Bobby McFerrin's original all-vocal score.

Their next film, The Celluloid Closet, based on the book by film historian Vito Russo, depicts a 100-year history of homosexual characters in Hollywood movies. Narrated by Lily Tomlin, The Celluloid Closet had its world premiere at the Venice Film Festival, was featured at the Toronto, New York, and Sundance Film Festivals (at which it won the Freedom of Expression Award from the jury), and numerous international festivals, including Berlin, Tokyo, and Sydney. In addition to winning the Peabody Award and Columbia DuPont Journalism Award, Epstein and Friedman won Emmys for directing.

In 2000, Epstein and Friedman directed and produced Paragraph 175, a film that explores a hidden chapter in history: the experiences of homosexuals during the Nazi regime in Europe. Narrated by Rupert Everett, and filmed in Germany, France and Spain, Paragraph 175 had its US premiere at the Sundance Film Festival in January, 2000, where it was awarded the documentary Grand Jury Prize for Directing, followed by a European premiere at the Berlin Film Festival in February, where it won the FIPRESCI (International Film Critics Association Award).

He and Friedman have followed these films up with "Howl", a biopic of Allen Ginsberg starring James Franco, Jon Hamm, and David Strathairn. Four short clips below.

youtube

1983 – Rick Cosnett is a Zimbabwean-Australian actor. He is known for playing the roles of Wes Maxfield in The Vampire Diaries, Elias Harper in Quantico and Eddie Thawne in The Flash.

Cosnett was born and raised on a farm in Chegutu, Zimbabwe. His family took part in community musical theater there, which made him interested in acting from an early age. When he was seventeen, his family decided to move to Queensland, Australia, in large part due to the land reforms in Zimbabwe.

Cosnett attended the Queensland University of Technology in Brisbane. He originally received a scholarship to study music but graduated with a Bachelors of Fine Arts in Acting.

Cosnett is a cousin of Hugh Grant. On 13 February 2020, Cosnett publicly came out as gay on his Instagram account.

1984 – A Louisiana appellate court overturns a man's conviction for exposing and fondling an undercover police officer. The court said that the state's law on indecent exposure requires that the defendant expose him or herself, not another person.

2010 – Playwright Terrence McNally weds Tom Kirdahy, 46, in Washington D.C. ceremony. During a small ceremony under a tree blooming with white flowers, Kirdahy read from a scene in McNally's play "Corpus Christi," in which a gay, Christ-like figure named Joshua marries two apostles:"It is good when two men love as James and Bartholomew do and we recognize their union," Kirdahy read. "Love each other in sickness and in health."

Kirdahy, a lawyer and Broadway producer, choked up as he recalled seeing the play before meeting the playwright. Actress Tyne Daly, who was currently starring in McNally's "Master Class" at the Kennedy Center festival, served as a witness at the sunlit wedding and read Shakespeare's Sonnet 116. Actors John Glover and Malcolm Gets, both starring in "Traviata," also looked on. The Rev. George Walker of the People's Congregational United Church of Christ presented them as husbands and signed their marriage certificate. It will be recognized back home in New York City. McNally's most recent play, Mothers and Sons opened on Broadway in March, 2014.

#Youtube

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frostedlemonwriter · 12 days

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Eithne's Faith Snippet

Eithne sprinted with all her might, heart pounded in her breast. The sight of the Norse warriors as they crushed their defenses stunned her sense. With valiant efforts, she slew many an invader. But the voice of her husband Talorc, the man she had married just a few months prior, echoed in her ears. His once sturdy figure, now felled by arrows and an axe to his chest, haunted her. Yet, his words remained clear, “run, my love. Warn them!” That’s exactly what she did, even if it cursed her. In the heart of the once lively village, where vibrant grass and blooming flowers once thrived, now lay a haunting scene of lifeless bodies, a mix of fallen Pict and Norse warriors. Amidst shattered weapons and tattered bark-skin armor, she made her way towards the weathered wooden docks. Arrows whizzed past her, missed her by a mere breath, as relentless warriors pursued. Their screams pierced the air, their foreign language added to the chaos.

Tag List: @cljordan-imperium @ashirisu @leahnardo-da-veggie @olivescales3 @erraticprocrastinator

#creative writing #writeblr #dark fantasy #pictish story

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frontierpodiatrist · 7 months

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irt kieran & nemona

honestly thinking about it nemona and kieran are more similar than she is to carmine, in my opinion. sure carmine and nemona are both very into battles, but kieran is as well, he's just a lot more...serious about it. like in juxtaposition irt how they are in battle; carmine is pretty bossy and impatient, and also doesn't treat the player like her equal when battling together, she doesn't necessarily seem interested at all in having an "equal" or a rival (calling you her second-in-command and acting like you're more her goon LMAO), it's her way or the highway. she wants to kill./deal damage, or have fun, and is not really interested it seems in whether or not you're on par with her. she feels no particular way about it (positive like nemona, or negative like kieran). and while the other two, at least at first in kieran's case, encourage you when you use supereffective moves and whatnot, carmine berates you about it LOL

carmine is also in spite of her attitude pretty emotionally attuned to others, she's very sensitive and a worrier about kieran even though she comes across as abrasive and is often misinterpreted, she keeps things from him or pushes certain narratives in an attempt to protect him. nemona can neither tell/keep a lie, nor is she particularly emotionally sensitive (coughs) arven in area zero (coughs) which carmine would probably be like IF YOU OFFEND KIKI I HAVE TO END YOU about. kieran, similarly, does not seem entirely self-aware about the feelings of others around him mostly bc his own are so strong that they overshadow everything else. he's at least conscious of it unlike nemona, but he can't necessarily acknowledge it atm bc his own feelings are so intense

about their similarities, though, i find them kind of coin-flipped. they're both very pushy, but kieran is more subtle about it. like carmine is pretty pushy but at the same time she actually does know how to take a no, and without getting wildly offended or intense like the other two. and kieran/nemona straight up Will Not they both react very extremely to rejection; nemona straight up resorts to begging you and shrinking in on herself, and kieran at least in the latter half of the dlc gets varying degrees of upset about it, either lashing out or also shrinking in on himself. nemona needs an equal and wants a rival, and kieran also seems to sort of "need" one in the same sense even if his want for an equal comes from the opposite direction (feeling weak and wanting to catch up to you)

it's also like nemona and kieran nigh immediately are obsessed with you and look up to you and think you're da coolest. carmine getting along with you is more gradual and makes sense bc she's more well adjusted (she is closest to penny of the main three, imo). kieran like uber trusts you immediately which is also probs why u keeping that from him blows up so bad. he just instantly latched on. both him and nemona immediately put 100% investment in mc as soon as they lay eyes on them, immediately thinking you're strong/have potential/that you're their first friend, and someone they can open up to. the biggest difference is that nemona is independent, and kieran relies on carmine, and your presence throws off the balance of that dependency, giving him someone other than his sister to lean on and then immediately snatching that (and her) away

i feel like kieran and by extension carmine are pretty spoiled. not in a money/rich way like nemona, but emotionally. it's commented a few times by the villagers that they've very rowdy, and their grandparents seem very loving but not very strict, leading to this often acting-out behaviour. carmine will freely pick on kieran and she only really gets scolded for it once, but it happens a lot i'm sure that they fight, and there's never really any proper consequences for it. like kieran refuses dinner and holes up in his room and they don't nag him endlessly for it, just leaving him to his own devices. they're allowed to act up and their grandparents are pretty strict meanwhile i assume in nemona's case she was brought up on a pretty strict ruleset of how to behave given her background. in a way it makes an interesting juxtaposition to wonder how she might have turned out were this not the case and she was given significantly less guidance/structure. she's simultaneously left to her own devices but also given a rulebook, which is seemingly enough for her to keep it together

anyway just some #thoughts

#pokemon kieran #pokemon nemona #the teal mask spoilers #pokemon sv dlc #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon headcanons

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ryndicate · 1 year

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤA Drop in Time :: Prologue

When a prayer is all you have left, dark days follow.

Vampire!Megumi x reader (fem body/pronouns)

notes: kicking off the series with the prologue, the best place to start! This update is brief and includes only vampire typical violence and mentions of blood/death. Going forward in the series, I will include general warnings at the beginning of each update, and specific warnings (including spoiler warnings) in a link alongside the series masterlist.

By expanding, you are consenting to viewing adult/dark content, and all warnings listed above. 18+ Minors DNI

Blog Rules & Main Links

⋆⁺₊⋆ Masterlist ☪︎ Series Warnings ☪︎ Chapter i ⋆⁺₊⋆

Your bare feet slap in the mud of last night’s rain as you dart between the houses, terror clouding your vision. Melodies of pain, prayer and powerlessness crescendo into the night. You flee like an unfortunate cottontail does from a fox.

If only your predator were as forgiving.

Tight breaths burst from your lips as you whip around a corner, nearly tripping over—a warbled cry breaks the uneven rhythm of your breathless panting as you look down. It’s the baker’s daughter; you had spoken with her just this morning as you went about your errands. Now her crumpled form stares unseeing at the night sky, laying unmoving in a sticky pool of crimson.

You don’t have time to see if she’s still breathing, lest you join her. There’s still a dark presence somewhere behind you, stalking you with a quiet, sinister precision. That you haven’t been caught yet is not a coincidence, you fear, nor is it luck. It hasn’t lost track of you for a moment. It’s simply observing you for the time being.

Who knows when it will decide to act?

The cold air whips your face as you continue your futile dash; everywhere you turn you only find another glimpse of your immediate future. The iron tang of blood fills your senses, pleas for mercy fill your ears, as you take in the awful image of men and women with their throats torn out. The dark forms in cloaks hunched over their wilting bodies don’t spare you a single glance as you pass, each enthralled with the success of their own hunt.

Creatures of the night, deadlings, demons, vampires—there are plenty of names for them across the country, but the dark tales that have been woven weren’t enough to prepare you for their terrible reality.

You yelp in surprise and pain as you turn around another house and connect with a wooden fence; your slip tears and your navel stings at the impact.

In your panicked flight, you'd reached the edge of the village without realizing. Across the barrier lies the farmer's summer crop. Under normal circumstances, the weathered worker would flay trespassers alive for trampling over his produce, but the consequences of staying still now seem far more dire.

Without hesitation you clamber over the wooden fence, hissing as the splintering edges catch on your palms and thighs as you ungracefully manage to cross. Small droplets of blood bead where the miniscule shards have made their home in your skin.

As you run deeper into the swaths of green, you chance short turns of your head to see if you've managed to place any distance from your pursuer.

You see nothing, but your fear only grows.

The desire to live keeps you moving despite your growing exhaustion, your pulse thrumming and heart thudding with adrenaline.

If you could just manage a little farther. The stables are right on the other side of the crop field. If you could make it there, you could escape to the Eastern border town and alert the guardsmen there. Your village is small, but surely they'd come if someone called for aid?

The faintest glow of hope eases the coil of tension around your heart as you break through the edge of the field and the stable comes into view. The soft glow of the lantern gives a warm light, beckoning you forth. You can hear the whickers and nervous panting of the horses inside, no doubt spooked by the screams that rise into the air like the dancing sparks of a cook fire, short and quick to perish.

You dash across the open space, your fingers reaching for the stable door, but you never reach it.

You find your body crushed against the wooden wall of the stable instead. A heavy breath is now hot against your neck, sending a vile chill throughout the rest of your body.

"Do not struggle."

Melodic and stern, his voice causes you to stiffen, leaving you piteously pliant to the way he maneuvers your head and bares your neck to him, cradling you with senseless delicacy.

You had always thought you'd scream, shout, struggle for the life you so desperately cling to, but now you find yourself meeker than a mouse clasped between the talons of a hawk.

"Take heart. You will not suffer needlessly."

His words are strange, nothing but sugared words from the lips of a devil. You do not wish to feel comforted, but something in you wilts at the unexpected kindness.

His touch is hot, something you would never have imagined, as he brushes your hair back from your neck. You can do no more than gasp; he wastes no time in biting into your flesh.

A low noise sounds deep in his chest, guttural and tinged with notes of consternation. It's a wonder you heard it at all; all other sounds have disappeared under the drums of your racing pulse. Your eyes close. What ails him now is none of your concern, there is nothing left for you now.

Even still, your body quakes as his form presses you deeper into the wooden wall, his grip on your arms suddenly vicious. It's as if his whole demeanor changed in an instant. Gone are the hands that held you like glass, brief as they had been. Now his fingers dig into your wrists so harshly you fear they might have already broken. You don’t even realize his one hand is enough to hold them both, not until his other is at your throat, wrapped around your chest as his grip forces your head upwards, halting the hunch of your chin as you instinctually struggle against the agony he unfolds upon you.

He tugs you to him, away from the stables, lurching back with you in tow. You’re growing dizzy, tears streaking your cheeks as your screams join the cacophony of your village’s misery. His fervid clutch is all that keeps you upright now, his hold so encompassing that you’re not sure your feet even brush the dirt anymore.

It’s pain unlike any you’ve felt. You can feel the sticky warmth of blood pumping down your neck, coating his hands as he detaches his lips, gasping as if he’s never tasted air before immediately biting down again, ravenous, ruthless. The pierce of fang tears another shriek from your lips, your struggles weakening as a new gush of crimson joins the rivers cascading from your throat.

Deep, drawn-out groans vibrate against your skin, interrupted by harsh swallows as he devours you with a single-minded intensity.

“Please.” You can only assume delirium has set in as you rasp out a plea so quiet it may as well have gone unsaid. Even attempting speech causes more pain to burn at your torn throat. You feebly push at his arms, accomplishing nothing. “Please, please I don't—”

You don’t wish to die, but you fear it to be pointless. Even if this creature didn’t continue to slake his thirst on your flesh, your wounds may yet be too severe. Black creeps on your vision as he suddenly releases you. Your body crumbles unceremoniously to the dirt, too exhausted to even tremble. There’s a fire blooming inside you that makes it feel as if your veins are turning to iron chain, rendering you immobile. Even if you had the energy left to run, you’re not sure you’d be able to take a single step.

You have no mind to question his halt, but you have vague consciousness of the voices that now surround you. It seems your hunter has been interrupted.

“This is unlike you,” A playful drawl reaches your ears, silky yet masculine. “Did she taste that good? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you lose yourself in a meal. You didn’t even snap her neck, poor thing. Think of the pain you caused.” There’s a mocking lilt to his words.

“Quiet,” your assailant huffs, as if irritated.

“Hmm.” The other gives an amused hum and you hear movement next you, close enough to strike you with the cold iron of dread. You dare not even breathe for fear that he realizes you still live. “Pity, she seems to be fading already. I would have liked a taste, but it’s no fun if they’ve already passed.”

That earns a scoff from your hunter. “You lecture me, and then spout nonsense like that. Heartless ruffian.”

“Megumi, you wound me.” The other sounds anything but, mirth still prevalent in his tone as he rises. He then grows serious. “You are far too kind to them, prince. You should not spare so much of yourself on their wellbeing. Accept their place.”

He, Megumi, does not acknowledge his pointed words. “We are leaving.”

You hear nothing more, not even their departure as your consciousness fades, praying to both gods and fate for whatever mercy they might afford.

a/n: don't be fooled by the short beginning, the first chapter caps out at 5k<3

Reblogs are appreciated!

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #series::ADiT

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calamity-unlocked · 2 years

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[follow-up to this]

Andrias Leviathan had worn his crown for ten long centuries when he died.

His death came at the hands of a thirteen year old girl who was ablaze with the kind of love he had long discarded.

It was not a literal death. Though the advanced technology that made up his limbs and organs was damaged, it was nothing that could not be fixed. The hands that hesitantly welded his torn skin back together were anything but kind, but they were not cruel either. And they asked him if this was what he truly wanted.

For the first time, it was.

Years passed, and he spent those years trying to make up for his actions. He wore his penance around his neck, held his regret in his only-remaining hand.

People shunned him, refused to meet his eyes. He tried to smile despite it, but bowed his head when he saw that his guilt would not ease their pain. It was not easy. It was never easy.

But he had walked the easy path for too long. This road was new, and tough, and deserved. He refused to complain.

One day, months after his assigned guards had been relieved from duty by Prime Minister Olivia, Andrias was kneeling in the shadow of a barren hill. The acidity of the soil here had never recovered from Andrias’ power stations, polluting the creeks with industrial waste. Plants were hesitant to grow.

He had time. And he had patience. He plowed the earth with his fingers and gently pressed small chunks of pulverized limestone in the

A book on horticulture, written in familiar handwriting, lay open beside him, the pages stained with dirt. A reluctant gift from the Plantars, received with tears in his eyes.

He was engrossed in his task, and didn’t notice light footsteps skipping over cracked earth.

“Hi!” said a high voice. “Why are you wearing those chains?”

Andrias shot upright in surprise. His knee hit the bucket with limestone, and the power-like substance spilled on the ground like salt. Brushing it back into its container, he looked to the side.

A yellow-skinned axolotl child, their feathery gills barely grown in, had their hands on their back and was had tilted their head in a curious fashion.

They must have come from the village nearby, and hadn’t listened to their parents’ warnings of the giant that tended to the earth in his self-imposed solitude. These days, not many children remembered the floating castle that had blocked out the sun and poisoned the land. They were born in a world of plenty, ignorant of how dire the cost had been of healing a broken society.

“They are a reminder,” he said, scooping the last bits of limestone back off the ground. His dismissiveness didn’t deter the kid.

“That’s weird,” they said. “Are you planting vegetables?” They darted around Andrias’ heels as he rose to his feet and walked to a cast-iron watering can, his aching back supported by Barrel’s hammer. “Won’t have much luck here, if that’s the case. Soil’s stubborn, or so my da says. My da’s a farmer too, you know,” they clarified. “I don’t think you’re doing it right.”

A familiar bemusement coursed through Andrias. “I admit I don’t know much about landscaping. But I’m learning.”

“You want me to give you some tips?” the kid asked, their bulbous eyes growing three sizes with excitement.

Andrias almost refused, but that was not in his nature. He nodded, a smile curving his lips.

The axolotl grinned from gill to gill, running up to Andrias’ hand. Before he knew what was happening, the kid was sitting on his shoulder. “So, what’s your name, big guy?”

He opened his mouth, then shut it again.

Andrias Leviathan had died the moment he stopped wearing his crown. Someone better had been reborn.

“You can call me Drias.”

“Well, Drias, first of all you’re gonna need a plow. Your hand is big, sure, but we’re not in the medieval ages anymore. Why bother! And then…”

#amphibia #amphibia spoilers #calamity's writing #i feel a lot of emotions about how this man redeemed himself #in that he does not ask for forgiveness #he knows no one owes him that #but by opening up again to the world he will find it nevertheless #in strangers #and maybe in familiar faces #just maybe #until then - and long after - he will do the work. put in the effort #because that is what he owes the world. and his friends #who knows how much longer he will live #not for forever #but longer than most #and he can finally live again like he did when he was younger #king andrias

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ask-de-writer · 6 months

Text

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to CLASSICAL FANTASIES

THE FISHERMAN'S LEG (Part 19 of 20)

A sequel to Dee 1/2 Demon

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

25570 words

TUMBLR EXEMPTION

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New to the story? Read from the beginning HERE.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Tanira bowed and raised her finger for recognition. “If it please the Magistrate, I have three things to lay before the Tribunal. Miko san has drawn up all of the needful papers which need only your approval, payment of needful fees, your signature and the Tribunal's official chop.

Drawing a folded paper and a hand tied string of cash from her sleeve, she offered, “This first item is my divorce from Minami, and reclaiming my family name of Facirata. As we already have a civil separation and Minami is both a criminal serving a sentence for crimes and the murderer of my son Ichuru, there can be no reasonable contest of this divorce.

“As a part of this final separation, I am requesting also the Ice House, which has not yet been sold. It was a joint property which Minami improperly claimed as his own by locking me out of it.

“No papers backing his claim were filed. Thus, technically, it remains one half mine. It is presently held by the Tribunal for sale against his debits. Our debits were isolated by you in our civil separation, meaning that it would violate the separation of our debits if my half of its sale value were given to him as debit relief.

“Along with the papers is the proper fee, one of silver cash and of copper cash twenty five.”

Magistrate Lim received the papers and the string of coins with a smile. “The ownership of the Ice House shall be attached to your Fish Market as an asset of the business, which it always was before Minami san's crazed obsession with Dee san and the others of the Shop of Repairs. As you have observed, though officially a joint property, his claim of sole ownership by locking you out was not legal. It was solely motivated by personal greed.

“The final divorce and restoration of your name to Facirata Tanira is granted. The Ice House is now a part of your Fish Market.”

Smiling, Tanira proffered the next set of papers and cash on a hand tied string. “These papers request that Minara san and Takahara san, though both are orphaned and Emancipated, be adopted as daughters of mine. As Miko san, Dee san, Satsuna san and Patsu san all demonstrate, there is no reasonable or lawful bar to having both family and Emancipation at the same time. What this will accomplish is giving them incontestable inheritance rights to my estate should I die.

“As the papers witness, it is both their wish and mine. They are here to give you their consent if it is needed.”

Magistrate Lim smiled, blinking back tears, as he stated, “Granted and without fee. Refusal of this adoption, given the present circumstances, would be inhumane. May the Perfected Ones provide you with only blessings.”

“We all three thank you, good Magiatrate Lim. Our next, and last item of our business is to register with Sabo village a fishing boat named the Rising Dawn. It is of length, ten paces and of beam, three and one half paces. It is rigged for both sail and oars. It will be launched this afternoon if time allows.”

Taking the papers and the proffered cash, Magistrate Lim inquired, “I need two further things to complete this registration. One is the name of the Rising Dawn's builder and the other is her value.”

Patsu raised her finger and bowed for recognition. “In conjunction with labor from the Chiasu Estate, I built the Rising Dawn. Her value is set by the labor in her, cost of materials, shop space needed and a proper profit to the Chiasu Estate at three of golden cash, of silver cash, two strings fifty. The Chiasu Estate has made her over to Facirata Tanira as a gift.”

Nodding to himself, Magistrate Lim brushed in the details and signed all of the papers and applied the Tribunal's chop to the lot, giving them to Miko with the words, “Please file these as soon as we are done here.”

Gesturing imperiously at the space before his table, sword bared in sign of a final judgment, Magistrat Lim demanded, “Mimami! Take your place here to receive final sentence for your crimes!”

Minami hesitantly knelt before the Magistrate, flanked on both sides by constables carrying, not cudgels but drawn swords.

When all was ready, Magistrate Lim explained, “I have chosen to be lenient. Under the Law as written, I would be required to order your execution by beheading. This is why we have judges, to hear and make due allowance for the reasons that things are done. I understand that though completely wrong, you were driven to madness by things that you saw but did not understand, including the incomplete healing of your leg. You blamed the healers for that, in spite of the fact that YOU FORBADE them to touch you. Only the fact that you were carrying this madness allows me to avoid your execution.

“I strip you of any face at all for your multiple infractions. Further, for the escape, theft and murder you are sentenced to a full five years at hard labor on Sabo province's roads. If you leave the road gang for any reason without permission IN WRITING, you will be executed upon capture.

“If you would prefer, I can instead order your execution. I do understand that it is a heavy sentence.”

Shaking his head in perplexity as he stood up to be led away, Minami whirled and thrust a pointing finger at Dee as he exclaimed, “Look at this whole mess! It is YOUR FAULT! Everything! My ugly leg! My reputation! My boat! My Fish Market! My home! My wife! My son! This is all your doing!”

Patsu remarked dryly, “Well his sanity didn't last too long! I wonder how he figures that one?”

“Don't pretend innocence! Up at the Hospital, all that you had to do was simply explain what I saw! If you had, none of the rest of this would have happened at all!”

Dee casually turned her hand up, her fingertips becoming black claws. Fire, of a thin pale blue formed as a dancing flame balanced on her clawtips. She remarked, “If you can remember it at all, we tried. What you saw had you so frightened that you would not answer us when we asked what had you so upset. We could not tell you what you what really happened because you would not tell us what you saw that frightened you so. If you had simply asked us, we'd have told you.”

He was still shouting, “This is all your fault! You should have told me then! My leg would be properly healed! I would still have everything! Ichuru would still be alive! All that you had to do was say something!”

The door to the cells closed on his rant!

Magistrate Lim shook his head sadly. “Mad. Completely mad. Nothing is his responsibility or fault at all. Maybe I should have him executed.”

Patsu snorted, “What would you do with his body? Cremation? He would make a toxic smoke! Bury him? Pollute the soil for tens of paces all around? Dump him in the ocean? He would kill or poison all of our fish!”

To be Continued

<==PREVIOUS ~~ NEXT==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to CLASSICAL FANTASIES

#THE FISHERMAN'S LEG #Part 19 of 20 #Classical Fantasy #sequel to DEE 1/2 DEMON #WORK IN PROGRESS #Written by De Writer

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gamerbearmira · 1 year

Text

Tangled...the siblings and Die Mutter

HEYYYY <33 Been a minute since I wrote one of these so. Here <33 I have like 2 or 3 others, but I wanna shred this one 👹👹

Les get it

-----

Bruno woke up looking around the large room he and his siblings shared. His sisters were asleep on either side of him, not noticing him being awake. Looking up he could see through the small window above that it was still very much nighttime, hence the darkness in the room.

"Mamí?" He said quietly, though he didn't get a response. He looked around the dark room again, frowning. The 6-year-old slid out of bed, careful not to wake up his hermanas. Padding across the room he popped his head out the doorway, looking around. He could see a couple of small candles lit around the main floor, was his mama awake?

He carefully walked down the stairs, using the rail as a guide to not trip in the dark. Once on the main floor, he looked around some more. "Mamá?"

After looking around for a while longer, he stood by the large window that looked out to the walled-off tower he and his family resided in. Looking out, he saw the same view he always saw. He had never actually been outside the tower; his mama said that once he turned 8 he would be able to go out with his hermanas. He knew that there were lower levels to the tower; stairs that lead to the bottom where his mama somehow managed to grow food.

He knew his mother was scared of going outside. She was scared of people, he noticed. There was a village, a town where other people lived. His mama said she used to live there, but something bad happened when he and his sisters were babies, so they had to run away and live here.

"Bruno?" Bruno swung around and saw Pepa standing by the bottom of the stairs while holding Julieta's hand. They both still looked tired. "What...are you doing?"

"Um..well I was..." Bruno fiddled with his fingers, hesitating. "I was looking for mamá. But I don't know where she is."

Pepa and Julieta looked at each other, nodding before walking over to Bruno. They both got on either side of him, grabbing his hand. Bruno looked at both of them, wondering what they were doing.

"Flor que da fulgor," Julieta sang quietly. Bruno perked up at the song, quickly recognizing it.

"Con tu brillo fiel," Pepa continued, gesturing for Bruno to continue.

"Mueve el tíempo atrás," Bruno sung, mumbling but getting a bit louder. "volviendo a lo que fue," he continued, his sister joining in.

Bruno caught the soft glowing light coming from a different room under the stairs. The other two caught it as well and started to make their way over.

"Quita enfermedad," Pepa carried on with the song, getting closer to the room where the golden light was getting a bit lighter.

"Y el destino cruel," Bruno smiled faintly, happy his sisters were helping them. He thought they might have started teasing him, but he was glad he was wrong about that assumption.

"Trae lo que perdí," Julieta yawned a bit, rubbing her eyes as they finally entered the room. The triplets could see their mother sitting up on the bed, the numerous golden streaks within her dark brown hair glowing. It was out of its usual braid and dangled off the side of the bed, the end reaching the floor. She looked tired, and a bit confused, but she still held a welcoming air around her.

The three kids scrambled onto her bed, happily cuddling up to Alma. The mother grabbed Bruno, laying down with him on the bed while his sister curled up on either side of them.

"Volviendo a lo que fue," Alma sang the lyric quietly, and it made Bruno feel sleepy again. The boy hugged his mamá, pulling a sleepy smile as he closed his eyes, the last of the golden light starting to fade. "A lo que fue..."

----

ALMAS SO COOL, WHAT DUH 🦅🦅🦅

Also. Reason why the triplets singing works with her kooky hair is cause. They are her children and since that's that they can also sing and it works. The grandchildren would hypothetically be able to sing and it would work too, but Pedro, the husbands and anyone outside the Madrigal family wouldn't.

Anyway. I hoped you enjoyed, I think its pretty cool <33 I really like this au, I need to do more for but. I have ideas or motivation

K BYEEEE (•ૢ⚈͒⌄⚈͒•ૢ)

#encanto #encanto au #au #encanto alma #encanto Bruno #encanto julieta #encanto pepa #tangled au #encanto tangled au

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dapandapod · 1 year

Note

Hii! For mermay prompts, how about depth for geraskier (ofc)

WHY YES OF COURSE FRANKSTER! and uh, I made you choose between prince and amnesia, because both of those popped into my head at the prompt. Prince was chosen and here we are! Hope you enjoy! <3

(also feel free to prompt me, here or on tumblr, i am on a writing spree and olsdfkj sorry for posting like 4 times in a day)

Send me a pairing and a word and I will make you some words? ❤️

On Ao3 here

Jaskier has been gone for too long. Geralt has been pacing their room for hours.

Yes, he did promise to stay put for a couple days, to wait for Jaskier’s… whatever he is doing. Or who.

The shoddy fisher village is gray, cold, everything covered in a thin layer of salt the spray of the waves offer in its violent rage.

Wind is whipping around the little wooden houses– sheds, really. It’s been three days since Jaskier left. Three days, and he was supposed to be back this morning.

Is this how it feels to be left behind when Geralt himself leaves for a contract?

Possibly, because no matter how much Jaskier had told him to stay put, to wait, to just fucking trust him damnit, Geralt is fretting.

Finally he gives in.

Leaving the room the kind elderly lady is lending them, Geralt stalks outside. It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense.

The people here are not afraid of him, but seem to keep a distance from the bard. Everything about this place seems grey, but still it seems like the ever colorful Jaskier returns here, over and over again.

He starts with the aldermans house. They don’t have a tavern, the little gathering of houses far too small for such luxuries.

“The bard? You should check by the docks, or the boat house. He usually is out with the boat this time a year.”

He..what? Boat?

What the fuck is Jaskier doing?!

Geralt leaves without saying good bye, and the bard would have scolded Geralt for his bad manners, but he isn’t fucking here, is he?!

The boat house is, predictably, just down by the water. There is a long dock leading into the water, two smaller fishing boats tied to it.

An elderly man and someone who looks like his son sits by the house, mending nets.They look up when he approaches, shielding their eyes against the setting sun.

“Have you seen a bard around here? Jaskier? Brown hair, blue eyes, a lute and the worst fashion sense known to man?”

The elderly man presses his lips to a thin line and ducks his head. His son studies the witcher for a long moment, sizing him up, before responding.

“Aye,” he says, “What is it to you, witcher?”

“He’s my friend.” Geralt manages, working hard around a word that feels so inadequate. “And he is missing.”

“No more, lad,” the elderly man mutters, “Bad luck, it is.”

Geral frowns, trying not to let his impatience get the better of him.

“I’ll make it worth your while. Six crowns.”

“Florens.” The son corrects. “Ten. And I’ll take you to where we left him.”

The elderly fisherman refuses to come. Speaking of ill omens and bad luck, of not talking to the sea. The son takes him anyway, the sea getting oddly misty as they go further out with the boat.

“Coin is sparse out here, but my niece is sick. I’d rather leave the sea altogether than see her hurt,” the son says, rowing the boat towards a previously hidden little rock formation, barely an island. “Da doesn’t want to speak of it, speak of evil and it shall come, he says. We don’t need more sirens, he says.”

Geralt eyes him, then the sky. He can’t hear any flapping of wings, nor splashing of their tails. The water is calm, but the mist lays thick and hides both sight and sound.

The little boat touches the edge of the rock with a soft sound when they arrive.

“This is where I let him off every year,” the son says. “And pick him up after a few days. Know nothing but that.”

The florens trade hands, and when Geralt gets off, he pushes back into the water.

“I’ll be back in an hour. It’s probably superstition, but I don’t much like this place.”

Inspecting the area, Geralt finds it bare of both bards and life. He climbs around it, eventually finding an expensive looking chest with a solid lock on it.

It looks strange out here, oddly devoid of the wear and tear one would expect wood around the shore. Geralt picks the lock with ease, and when opens the lid, it doesn’t make a sound.

Inside it is a very familiar lute, and neatly folded clothes. Geralt’s heart sinks, but he has a trace now, something. He rummages around, finding everything Jaskier had brought but his jewellery. Even his underclothes is here.

Geralt closes it again, locks it carefully.

There should be traces here, anything to lead him to where Jaskier is.

The scent is old, barely there and hidden by the salty smell of the sea. Geralt will never complain about Jaskier’s perfume ever again.

It leads him to the other side of the little island, across the rocks on a path that looks surprisingly smooth and well walked.

Geralt stops when water starts lapping at his feet.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

Either Jaskier has been hiding something from him, or something very bad has happened. And either truth still means Jaskier is missing, and that he went into the water. And from the sound of it, has been coming to the water for years.

Geralt trails back to the chest, takes off his boots and heavy armor. Takes off everything but his trousers, and two silver daggers.

The stone is smooth under his feet, and quickly gets slippery as it continues out into the water.

It’s cold, his skin pebbles when he gets as deep as his knees. Then the rock abruptly ends. Geralt breathes deep, and dives. Cat and killer whale would have been useful, but he didn’t know he would have to go swimming when they got out here.

Geralt has almost swum around the entire island when he notices the formations. Runes carved into stone, worn smooth by time and water.

With another deep breath, he follows it down, down, down, and what little sunlight was left quickly disappears down here.

There is an opening a bit further down. And eyes. Many eyes.

Geralt realizes too late that he is surrounded, and there are clawed fingers and webbed hands pulling him deeper still, and into the opening.

His lungs are burning for air, and he is quickly disoriented, his elbows scraping against stone and harsh hands making him unable to reach for his knives.

Suddenly, they breach the surface, and Geralt pants harshly as he is dragged onwards and thrown onto a slimy rock. Broken shells of crabs and clams are spread out, and bones of fishes of all sizes lie spread among them.

Now free from his attacker, Geralt reaches for the dagger and turns to face them, but a beautiful face filled with fangs hisses at him as they retreat backwards, and another set of hands grip him hard.

Geralt can’t entirely make out if it is siren or mer people or something completely else, but more hands grip him, wrestling the knife from his hand.

“Walk!” one hisses, “You were looking, and you found us. Walk!”

Her voice is almost human, but her tongue is unused to his language. They shove him forward, deeper into the cave. It gets darker and darker, until suddenly Geralt realizes the walls are glowing.

Aluminescent is probably the right word for it. Algae covers the walks, swirling lines make patterns he feels like he has seen somewhere before.

It takes him until the now narrow walkway opens up into a bigger space that Geralt realizes where he recognizes it from. The embroidery of Jaskier’s clothes.

When Geralt locks eyes with Jaskier across the room, the bard’s jaw is slack with surprise when he sees him

“Geralt,” he says, but oh.

Oh.

Jaskier doesn’t have a tail, but his skin is glimmering with the same pattern as the walls. He is sitting in the middle of the open space, on a rock slanting out to a deep, clear pool. It almost looks like a throne room.

Around his feet are merpeople of different shapes and sizes.

The guards shoves him back when Geralt attempts to take a step forward, and Geralt bares his teeth to them.

“Stop it,” Jaskier says, voice commanding.

The guards, now that Geralt sees them, look like a strange hybrid of fish and man. Claws and fins and webbed fingers and hissing breaths, but they keep their distance, as they are told.

Jaskier is still wearing his rings and his necklace, but little else. On his brow is a circlet, thin and adorned with shells and crowned with a mother of pearls.

“I told you to wait,” Jaskier says, tilting his head.

“You didn’t come back. It’s been three days,” Geralt says, feeling foolish without not really knowing why.

“Has it? I’m sorry, time passes strangely down here.”

They just look at each other for a long while, for once the bard too seems at a loss for words.

“You don’t look like them,” Geralt says finally, indicating at the more fish-like guards behind him.

“I don’t,” Jaskier agrees, “Many mer these days are closer to sirens, but those close to the royal family are more humanoid.”

Jaskier gives a crooked smile when he sees Geralt wracks his brain.

“I told you I was a noble, didn’t I?”

“You said viscount.” Geralt suddenly remembers. “Viscount Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenove.”

“Ah yes, well. That is some of the truth, yes. Don’t give me that look, Geralt, I didn’t lie to you. I just happen to be a prince too.”

Geralt blinks, and Jaskier looks back at him, sitting proudly despite the light frown.

“Mer prince? Is that why you don’t have a tail?” Geralt asks carefully, and the guard next to him rolls his eyes so hard his head moves with it.

“I do have a tail, my friend. When I choose to. The perks of royalty, wouldn’t you say?” he says with a smirk, “Now, as happy as I am to see you here, and for you to meet my family, this is… not ideal. I wish… It doesn’t matter. You are here now. Ligeia, let him through. I think it is time he is given the tour.”

“But my prince-” Ligeia says with her weird, hissing voice, but Jaskier waves her off.

“I have spent more time with him than you are old. Let him come to me.”

Geralt is let through, and Jaskier offers his hand. It is not something they usually do, not while awake, but Geralt accepts it anyway.

Jaskier is cool to the touch, but his hands feel the same. Same callouses, same scar just over his thumb from a stupid accident with a branch.

He is led towards the other side of the rock, into the clear pool.

“Not the way I wanted to show you, but I’m glad you are here,” Jaskier whispers, like a confession. Hand in hand, they dive.

When they return to the outside world, the stars are out. When Geralt worries about how they will get back, Jaskier waves him off.

“They always kind of know when I need to go back. I think that is a part of why they don’t trust me.”

Yeah, that makes sense. Splashing of ores breaks the serene silence around them, and the son stares at them a bit wide eyed.

The ride back is more tense than last time, despite Jaskier’s chattering.

When they get back to their room, Geralt realizes they are still holding hands.

“Well, my prince,” he says teasingly, “I think we have some talking to do.”

#the witcher #geraskier #but kind of inspired by all the canons #jaskier is missing #geralt of rivia #jaskier #mermay #prince!jaskier #mer!jaskier #dapanda writes #pre slash #the witcher 3 #a little bit at least #the witcher fic

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