#Crow Resting on Wood Trunk

[marionsinspirations]

[bits-and-babs]

can u do a konig with kink in primal play ? we need him being a big wolf !

𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐊𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐍 – 𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆

synopsis : a big bad wolf chases you down in the woods, desperate for a taste of you.

pairing: könig x redridinghood!reader

warnings : 18+ mdni. pre-agreed scenario, meaning consensual non-consent. hunter x prey, roleplay, degradation, oral (f receiving), p in v sex.

könig masterlist ୨୧ main masterlist ୨୧ join taglist ୨୧ ask

Each thundering footstep of your shoes snaps twigs beneath the weight of your body, the splintering bark sounding off like canon fire as you sprint down the forest path. Distressed heaves of your chest ignored your desperate attempts to quieten your heavy breathing, palm clamped over your mouth doing little to smother the shuddering exhales.

Your wicker basket lays discarded on the path behind you, freshly picked berries oozing blood-red juice onto the pebbled trail. The petrifying viridescent eyes you'd noticed in the tree-line burn into your back as you flee. The cottage is just up ahead– you could reach it.

He's behind you. It's silent amongst the Austrian treeline, birds halting their song as he stealthily moves through the blanket of bushes and tree canopy. 

Stumbling over the nettles that prickled the skin of your ankles, you desperately attempt to conceal yourself from the incoming threat. You hurl your back against a tree trunk, hearing the pathetic whimper that slipped past your lips when the splintering bark sank into your shoulders. Sharp pain stings at your flesh as you crouch low to the ground. 

Muzzling your lips with both palms, you all but suffocate yourself while trying to conceal the small, fearful noises you made. Each beat of a crow's wing and falling leaf caused a jolt of fear to fragment through your nervous system, eyes scanning the treeline uneasily. 

"You must have a good hiding spot, Rotkäppchen," a lilting accent cut through the quiet forest, causing you to squeeze your eyes tight in terror. Every muscle in your body pulls taut, and your skin goose-pimples as though he'd doused you in ice-cold water. 

Blindly grasping at the fabric that dangled from your shoulders, you wrap the crimson material of your cape around your body in a final, wretched attempt to hide from the predatory gaze of his bottle-green eyes. 

"I will find you. When I do..." his playful tone dissipates in a moment's silence, hesitating before delivering his threat. "I'll swallow you whole."

Your knuckles blanch with how tightly you grasped the hem of your little red cape, muscles straining under the immense pressure you applied to the soft, malleable fabric. 

"They say that fear makes you taste sweeter," the lurking danger continues his twisted lecture as you breathe carefully through your terror. In for five, out for five— "All the pumping blood in your veins- makes you taste like honey, so I hear." 

The twisted comments flip your stomach, bile threatening to launch up your oesophagus. 

"Never have I craved something as badly as you," the pitchiness in his voice makes your hair stand on end, undeniably earnest in his admission. "And I feel that I have—…."

A soft, tracing touch circles your ankles like ivy before quickly locking around the bone in a vice-like grip. Dread chills the lining of your stomach, and blood pools beneath your skin. You stand no chance. 

"Got you."

You let out a shriek, kicking your feet out at your attacker as you try to escape his impossibly tight grasp. Dark, gleeful chuckles raise goosebumps across your skin and prickle the hair at the base of your neck as König drags you towards him. The bottomless black pits of his pupils swallow his verdant irises as they sweep the length of your body beneath the hood he wore.

"Meine Rotkäppchen," König coos, his mammoth palm resting over your lips to stifle the sobs of fear wracking your chest. The wolfish grin that spreads across his lips when he hears your trembling breaths causes your pulse to surge, adrenaline kicking your basic bodily functions into overdrive. "Hush, sweet thing. Just a taste, that's all I ask." 

Manipulating your body at will, König forces you into place by pushing his knee into your hip. It hurts, the crushing weight against the bone causing further bruising to your soft flesh as the brute leers down at you.

Squeezing your eyes shut quickly, you try to suck oxygen into your burning lungs. You can feel König paw at your bare thighs, bunching your skirt as he greedily grasped the supple flesh in his palms. 

"You smell divine," he whispers, refusing to acknowledge your feeble, pathetic attempts to shake his hold, "Mhmm..."

One of König's hands grasps at the hem of his hood, lifting the fabric ever so slightly. He leans down, slick tongue tracking your jugular to taste the sweat clinging to your flesh. A soft groan rumbles in his chest, delighted by the appetiser. 

It's disgusting, mortifying, but warmth pools at the base of your spine as König's teeth nip at your flesh, sucking dark hickeys into your skin. It's as though he's claiming his 'kill', celebrating his successful hunt. 

"Hng-" A quiet noise slips from your open mouth, eyelids fluttering as König slips his hand between your thighs. Ashamedly, you do little to fight his touch as he traces his fingertips towards your core. 

A pause, bated and thick. König's eyes snap to your face pointedly, green irises reduced to a slither of jade circling the circumference of his inky pupils. 

"Rotkäppchen," he addresses you steadily, regaining his composure almost as quickly as he'd lost it. König's index finger presses between the soaked lips of your cunt, slowly tracing up the seam of your sex. "It's dangerous in the woods. You know this, yes?"

Quivering beneath his delicate touch, you whimper as you jerk your chin down in a nod. König's fingerprint steadily rises, pausing its ascent just before the arch of your swollen clit. 

"Then... You would understand the carelessness of abstaining from wearing panties," he muses, smugness dripping from his tone like drool from a beast's jowls. It equally disgusts and delights you. You can hear the slickness between your shaking thighs and feel the chill against the wetness smeared across your bare skin. 

Pulsing ardently, your clit betrays your fear as it begs for König's touch. Pressure builds in your abdomen, coiling tight as your attacker's touch skirts just beyond its reach. 

"Why would you take such a risk?" He asks rhetorically, watching the pinch of your brow and the drop of your jaw as you arc your hips upwards, chasing his touch. "Unless you wished to be ravished?"

It's sudden, without warning, but König's fingers sink deep into your weeping cunt. You gasp in surprise, your back aching from the damp soil when you dig your fingers into the earth. He groans, ravenous for a taste of you, as he buries his fingers deep inside your fluttering cunt. 

He gathers the wetness of your cunt onto his fingers, pushing the length of his digits down to the knuckle before withdrawing entirely. Sobbing, you shake your head pitifully as you watch that same hand disappear beneath the fabric of his hood. 

Those blackened eyes are easy to read, his thick, dark lashes fluttering when he places his soaked fingers against his tongue. Again, his self-control slips beyond his grasp momentarily, a devastated groan reverberating in König's chest as he relishes your taste. He barely allows himself a moment of satisfaction, already removing his knuckles from his mouth to devour more of you.

"Taste so sweet, Rotkäppchen," he marvels, enormous hands grasping at your shins and ignoring your protests as he pushes your knees against your chest, "And you're all mine."

Wailing as König's head dips between the pillowy flesh of your thighs, you find yourself unable to oppose the drag of his tongue as it traces over your swollen clit. It circles the flesh there delicately, savouring the sensation of it on his tongue. 

"Ko-ohhh-" you choke on his name, toes curling helplessly as every muscle in your body locks up at the delectable sensation. He switches the direction of his circles now, twisting back the opposite way. You must be soaking his face, the sparks of pleasure building in the pit of your stomach wetting your thighs with your slick. 

The branches and stones beneath you dig uncomfortably into your back, but you barely notice, thanks to König's velvety tongue sweeping through your drenched pussy lips. An earth-shuddering rumble vibrates through his chest, the sensation arching up your spine. 

Spreading your knees further apart, you present yourself to him, will him to use you however he likes. König doesn't need to grapple with your hips. You're rocking them up into his face to meet the sensation of your building orgasm. If your unhinged movements frustrate him, König doesn't complain; he simply enjoys the feeling of you smearing your pussy across the tip of his nose and his mouth. 

Something about the eroticism, the filthiness, of this makes your orgasm arc painfully up your spine. 

"Ko-König-" you heave frantically, fingers grasping at the dark fabric draped over his skull, "König, I'm g-gonna-"

König's hands push your hips down, forcing them still in the overgrowth beneath you. His lips seal around your abused clit, sucking at it gently while flicking his tongue against it over and over and over again. You can't stop it- can't brace against the sensation as it detonates through you without warning. 

Everything surges upwards, hot and slick. You arch against the burst of bliss, sobbing out König's name repeatedly. Each utterance sounds more broken than the last, breathier, whimpering and whining. 

He doesn't even give your waves of ecstasy a chance to ebb. You only just hear the sound of him spitting into his palm over the heaving of your chest, the subsequent slick glide of him smearing it over the length of his obscenely large cock causing your arousal to flare up again. 

"Kon-"

He eases his way into you without resistance, his thick, mushroomed head dragging against your walls just right. König breaks you open achingly slowly, and it's fucking exhilarating. You take every inch of him, squeezing the length and delighting in how König's cock jerks at your cunt gripping him. He bottoms out easily, his hips pushing against the curve of your ass and his pubic bone grinding into your clit. 

You see stars amongst the forest canopy. 

"Oh fuck– Oh– Please König, p-lease–" your whines are pathetic, pitchy and raw, but König's cock lurches again. The head bumps something utterly debilitating inside you, and your eyes roll back into your skull. 

"Hush," König urges you, his cock slipping out of you. God, you can hear the sickeningly wet sounds your cunt makes when it loses him– only for him to glide right back in. He sets a slow, firm rhythm that blinds you, white static prickling across your vision. 

You're not sure how much you were moving, but König's huge paw lays flat against the valley of your breasts, pinning you down with his body weight as he forces you to take the languid, greedy roll of his hips as they sink deeper and deeper into you. 

"König!" you sob mindlessly, tears welling in your eyes and threatening to spill down the apples of your searing-hot cheeks. 

"Shhh," he urges you again, rocking into you a little harder at the sound of your desperate pleas, "I can't- Need you to stay quiet–"

Wailing, agonised, you claw at his forearms. They're still clothed with a camo jacket, preventing your nails from biting at his skin. "Please!" 

"Scheisse," König wheezes, "You– You need it faster? Is that what you want?" He doesn't give you an opportunity to answer, amping up the pace of his rocking hips before you can even form a response in your mind. You sob loudly, grasping at foliage that crunches beneath your solid grip. 

"Please don't stop!" You beg him, voice frantic as he bludgeons that spot inside of you that blasts splintering shards of euphoria. "Please don't st– pleasedon'tstoppleasepleaseplease–" 

König curses, bracing his knees into the forest floor before slamming his hips into you as hard as he can manage. His palm on your chest skirts to the right, grasping your breast and squeezing at it until it bulges between his fingers. You're lifting your hips to meet his now, jaw falling slack as he prods that spot inside you while grinding his pubic bone against your throbbing clit. It's merciless. 

"Fuck, I will ruin you," König's voice sounds disembodied to your ears, his pitch desperate as though the words are slipping out against his will. He pulls you forward onto him, rocking impossibly deeper into you until you're sinking your fingers into the earth to hold yourself in place against his savage thrusts. "You— You won't be able t-to walk when I'm do-done with you, Rotkäppchen—"

It's coming. Fuck, it's coming, and it's devastating. You whimper, almost trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure that threatens to crash over you. König grasps your wrists, pinning you to the floor and fucking you over the edge. 

It eviscerates you. You choke out a wordless cry as the white-hot sparks of your orgasm rip through your nervous system. Your thighs are trembling, your back arching, and you feel fat tears smear down your cheeks. 

"Mei— Meine Perle," you hear König groan, forgetting the dynamic he was playing as he chases bliss, "I… Scheisse— I love you, I f-fucking— love—"

He gasps, loud and sharp, as his hips stutter. It's sloppy, his pace thrown as he grinds as deep as he can into your wet heat. König stutters to a halt, leaning down to bury his face in your neck when he cums. His cock throbs, spurting warm ropes of cum inside of you. 

When the heaving of your chests finally settle, you can hear the birds twittering. You're both spent, catching your breath as you lay amongst the fallen, browning foliage and cling to one another. 

"Mhm-" König lifts his head slowly, the fabric of his mask brushing at the skin of your cheek, your chin. "I forgot to continue acting." 

His voice is shy, accent heavy as he presses apologetic kisses to your cheek. You can't help but giggle. 

"It's okay," you whisper, stroking your palm down the ginormous, rippling expanse of his back. You feel him inhale slowly, taking in your scent as he clutches you closer to him. 

"You do look good in red, Perle," he murmurs, pulling teasingly as the ridiculous cape he'd pinned to you hours before. You can hear the smile on his lips. 

"Thank you. I like it when you're mean," you admit, and you feel König's body shake with a chuckle. He lifts himself from you slowly, those viridescent irises returning to their typical expanse as he gazes at you lovingly. He's high on dopamine, but you'd never doubt his love and affection for you. 

Even when he grasped at you, attacked you, you knew you were safe. 

"There's a bed to climb into," he reminded you of the cottage he'd booked. Naturally, you'd scoffed at the ridiculousness of his insistence in order to make it as believable as possible. Now, though? You were just glad there wasn't a three-hour drive home. 

"What's in it for me?" you sigh. Other than the cosy mattress, instead of the rough leaves and sharp twigs you lay awkwardly on now? 

"I can find it in myself for seconds," König mused, his hands gently grasping your thighs again. 

"You big, bad wolf," you tease, and you swear you see the corners of König's eyes crinkle as he smiles beneath the hood. 

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[c-e-d-dreamer]

When We Howl, the Moon Will Cower: Chapter 3

A/N: when I heard that today's @nestaarcheronweek prompt was wolf, I just knew I had to do some more werewolf Cassian 😉 Sorry this update has been a long time coming, but I promise this chapter is a good one! Hope everyone enjoys!

Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

Nesta

Nesta supposes she shouldn’t be surprised when she wakes alone.

She certainly didn’t expect to wake within some sort of lover’s embrace. It was clear last night that her and Cassian’s marriage was nothing more than duty, he to his pack and she to her family. But still…

With a soft sigh, she shifts and rolls over beneath the blankets, reaching a hand out and finding nothing but cold sheets. Early riser or didn’t even bother to stay the night? With another huff she sits up, rubbing the final remnants of sleep from her eyes. The room and the cabin doesn’t look much different in the light of day. The rays of sunlight spill in through the windows, painting patterns across the blankets and turning the wood beams of the ceiling into amber.

It could almost be described as homey if it weren’t for the frigid, cloying air still clinging to the room from the previous night.

Pushing the blankets off her legs, Nesta climbs off the bed. She starts to pad over to her trunks before a thought strikes her, her eyes dancing toward the bedroom door. Cassian made it clear last night that he doesn’t trust her, so does that mean he would lock her in? Keep his new wife locked away in the tower?

She steels her spine and stalks toward the door, hesitating for just a moment with her hand outstretched in front of her. Slowly, her fingers curl around the knob, but thankfully, there’s no resistance as she twists. Unlocked. Small consolations.

Shaking her head, Nesta spins on her heel and returns to preparing for the day. With running hot water and no one around, she dares to take another long bath. Loathe she is to admit it, there’s a lingering ache between her thighs, a delicious soreness to her muscles as she stretches out beneath the water. She tips her head back against the lip of the tub and closes her eyes, breathing deeply.

As much as she’d like to, Nesta knows she can’t hide in the warmth and safety of a bath all day. This is her life now, Archeron or not. This is her life here. She’s married to the alpha, a member of this pack even if they don’t fully trust or accept her. A witch amongst wolves.

Heaving herself out of the bath, Nesta finishes readying for the day and steps out of the bedroom. The rest of the cabin is just as quiet, but she pads her way into the kitchen. It takes some rooting around in the cupboards, but she’s able to find everything she needs to prepare a cup of tea, the strong taste and warmth of the drink at least helping to soothe some of the knots twisting around in her stomach.

It’s only when she settles at the small, wooden kitchen table that she notices the letter, her name scrawled across the page in familiar, crisp cursive. She snatches it up, flipping it over quickly. She supposes she shouldn’t be surprised to find the wax seal already broken, but annoyance flares like low burning embers in her chest nonetheless. She opens the letter and skims through her mother’s words. It’s all polite and basic, reporting on her sisters, inquiring if she’s settled, but she notices the ink pressed into the right, bottom corner.

A crow.

Nesta pushes to her feet and finds a candle, placing it on the kitchen table and lighting it. She holds the letter over the flickering flame until the ink swirls, bleeding to the edge of the paper and melting away into nothing. She closes her eyes and says the incantation quietly beneath her breath before blowing across the page, revealing the ink and message hidden beneath.

A meeting.

It’s a meeting request that Nesta is sure was also sent to both of her sisters. No new husbands though, a meeting of just the Archeron ladies. Cassian is already suspicious of her, so she’ll have to figure out an excuse that will allow her to attend. A problem for her to work out later. For now, Nesta holds the letter over the candle again, this time until the corner of the parchment catches, the entire letter going up in flames.

She returns to her tea, the cup almost drained when the front door of the cabin swings open, Cassian striding inside. He’s dressed in surprisingly casual attire, a loose shirt tucked into his pants, the sleeves rolled up to expose the lines of tattoo and golden skin of his forearms. His hair is pulled back and piled into a bun at the back of his head.

“Oh, good. You’re awake,” Cassian says in way of greeting. He gestures with his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”

Nesta crosses her arms across her chest, raising an eyebrow and refusing to move. “I did sleep well. Thanks so much for asking.”

“You want to do fucking pleasantries?” Cassian scoffs, shaking his head.

“Oh, but dear husband, how did you sleep?” Nesta asks, offering a saccharine smile. The sight of Cassian’s lips pulling back in a snarl has it building into a full blown smirk.

“Do you want to see the village or not?”

“I’m surprised you’d allow a witch such free range around your pack.”

“If you’d prefer, we can stay here and continue our marital duties,” Cassian offers, his tone derisive, the golds of his hazel eyes practically sparking with the challenge.

Nesta’s smile drops away. “Fuck you.”

“Are you sore this morning, sweetheart? I’d be willing to bet that was the first time a prim princess like you has taken a real cock.”

“You wish,” Nesta growls, finally pushing to her feet just so she can glower at Cassian.

She wants to hate the way he doesn’t balk from her ire, the way his smirk almost seems to twitch and grow at her response. The way the golds of his hazel eyes practically spark at the challenge. The sight has Nesta’s scowl deepening, her mind grasping for a way to wipe that stupid expression off his face. Perhaps, she’ll threaten to curse him with impotence.

“Going to curse me, sweetheart?” Cassian drawls, raising an eyebrow and all but daring her.

Nesta refuses to let the surprise at him reading her so easily show. “You’re not even worth the waste of magic.”

Cassian snorts quietly, gesturing with his head again. “Are you coming or not?”

With a quiet huff, Nesta takes a moment to straighten out the skirts of her dress, striding right past Cassian and out the door. The village certainly looks different beneath the sun, and from this vantage point atop the hill, Nesta can see the various members of the pack milling about. There’s a group of women, baskets full of vegetables on their arms, a group of young men unloading crates from a wagon, and children running around. There’s even a few members of the pack moving about in their wolf forms.

Cassian leads the way down into the heart of the village, pointing out different places for her as they walk. The hall where the pack council meetings are held. The market square. The butcher and the bakery.

It’s almost strange the way everyone is so friendly and open with Cassian, smiling and greeting him as he passes, the way he gives the same energy back. It’s clear that he’s a beloved alpha, clear that he cares just as much for his people. It makes it all the more awkward the way everyone eyes her suspiciously, whispers of witchcraft swirling in her periphery.

They come to a stop in some sort of clearing between the trees. Circles are carved into the ground, creating three rings, and Nesta spies who she remembers are Cassian’s second and third sparring in one of them. Wooden dummies are set up along the other end of the clearing, wooden and steel weapons beside them. A group of young boys and girls alike run through a series of maneuvers, a woman with pure white braids along her back leading them through the steps.

Cassian whistles, and his second and third both snap their attention toward them, practically pausing mid swing. The woman gives the man one final shove, as though for good measure, before they’re jogging over. On instinct, Nesta’s spine is straightening, chin pinching higher in preparation.

“Nesta,” Cassian begins. “This is my second, Emerie, and my third, Balthazar.”

“My friends call me Baz,” Balthazar tells her easily, placing a hand on his heart.

“You can call him Balthazar,” Cassian says gruffly. Nesta scoffs and rolls her eyes, but neither Emerie or Balthazar seem to disagree with the order. “And over there is Cresseida. You’ll begin training with her each morning starting tomorrow.”

Nesta doesn’t bother holding back her glare, anger already simmering beneath her skin. “Excuse me?”

“My wife needs to be able to defend herself.”

“What makes you think I don’t know how to defend myself? What do you think I was taught growing up?”

Cassian steps closer into Nesta’s space, the sneer on his face sending her annoyance skyrocketing. “I don’t think you want me to answer that, princess.”

Nesta raises her chin higher to hold his gaze. “Fine. You want me to prove it? I’m more than happy to step in the ring right now.”

“I’m sure we can find a beginner opponent that will be willing for your little demonstration.”

“And miss the opportunity to knock you on your sorry ass?”

Cassian laughs, the sound nothing short of mocking, but he gestures toward the training rings with his arm. “Fine then. After you, Nes.”

Nesta scowls at the nickname, but she stalks forward into one of the three rings. Cassian follows behind her, stepping over the line at the opposite end. They’ve already drawn the attention of the group training, and Nesta is sure that word will quickly blaze through the rest of the village. The witch challenging the alpha.

She’s sure there will be more sneers, more whispers and snide remarks. She’s sure that if her mother could see her now, she’d call Nesta foolish, chide her for letting her emotions get the better of her. But Nesta swore to herself a long time ago that she would never be weak again, and she refuses to let Cassian or his pack see her as such. Alpha or not, marriage sham or not, she intends to meet that fire she’s seen sparking in his eyes head on. Intends to burn just as bright until she wipes that cocksure smile clean off his face.

“I’ve got Cassian in this,” Balthazar murmurs.

“Oh, I’m definitely taking Nesta,” Emerie answers.

Nesta closes her eyes, letting the village, the pack, Cassian, all fade away. She centers herself the way she always has, sinking beneath the rippling waves of her well of power. Even the birdsong around her dampens to nothing, warmth trickling through her veins and pooling in her fingertips. She opens her eyes, allowing the power to swell to the surface, knowing it’s now flickering within her gaze.

Cassian’s own eyes widen, his movements pausing, but he’s quick to shake his head and set his stance, mouth pinched in a firm line. The beast within Nesta gives a low growl of approval. She can feel it pressing down onto its haunches, desperate to be released, and she dares to turn the key in the lock, keeping the cage firmly closed. For now. She widens her feet and raises her fists in a defensive positioning, raising a single eyebrow in challenge to the male across from her.

He moves faster than she expects, Cassian all but charging toward her. His arm swings out, but Nesta is quick to duck beneath the arching punch. It seems to be the exact response Cassian was expecting, what he was hoping for. The palm of his other hand slams into her collarbone, the force enough to throw off her balance and send her toppling onto her ass with a soft grunt.

Cassian lets out a derisive snort above her, but Nesta glares up at him, jumping back up to her feet. She loosens that leash on her magic, feels the familiar heat of flames twisting and wreathing around her wrist. She drives her hand against Cassian’s chest, releasing all that magic through her fingers. The alpha goes careening back, landing hard in the dirt sprawled on his back.

Cassian sits up, spitting to the side and wiping his now split lip with his hand. “Using magic is cheating.”

“Because war is all about rules and fighting fair,” Nesta drawls sarcastically.

“Touche,” Cassian comments idly, pushing back to his feet. “We can play it like that, sweetheart.”

It’s like watching the whole thing in slow motion. The way that Cassian’s muscles seem to ripple and bulge. The way fur sprouts and cascades down his skin. The way magic practically shimmers around him as he shifts. One blink and a large world stands before Nesta’s eyes. His fur is a dark brown, lighter along the chest and down the belly and a black that seems to match Cassian’s hair around the face and ears. But there’s no mistaking the golden glow of his eyes, pinning Nesta firmly in place.

Cassian snarls, the sound low and viscous. It’s Nesta’s only warning before he leaps and closes the distance between them. Nesta doesn’t have time to react, to move out of the way or call forth her power again. Pain radiates down her spine as her back hits the dirt, large paws pinning her shoulders down. Cassian’s canines are dangerously close to her face, hot breath panting across her cheeks, but Nesta doesn’t look away from those golden eyes.

He doesn’t scare her.

A calm washes over Nesta, but that beast within her tugs at the leash, practically chomping at the bit. Just as she’s always done, she imagines slipping fingers through fur, even as she finally opens that cage door. With a deep breath in, power fills her chest, expands between each rib and twines around her lungs. She pictures curling her fingers and grasping the beast’s fur.

Giving permission.

Flames burst out of Nesta in a cascade of silver, crashing around her. With a surprised yelp, Cassian goes flying through the air as those flames curl around his limbs. The force of her power sends him all the way outside of the training ring, skittering and sliding through the grass beyond before his wolf form finally comes to a stop.

“Holy shit.”

~ * * * ~

Cassian

With a grunt, Cassian tosses the large stone out across the water, watching the ripples as it bounces once, twice, before vanishing beneath the surface. His arm is sore with the effort, but it’s a welcome feeling. One that he can control. His entire body still aches, and he doesn’t even dare to look to check for the bruises he’s sure are mottling his skin.

He’d known the Archerons were powerful, everyone knew that, but to witness it in action had been something else entirely. That power had rippled around him, pressing and scraping along his skin until every hair had stood on end. For a moment, his heart had stuttered to a painful stop in his chest. With the silver flames burning and engulfing her eyes, Cassian hadn’t even been sure it was truly Nesta staring back at him. And then all that magic crashed into him with an almost sickening crunch. It threw him hard and far enough that had he been in his human form, Cassian is confident his shoulder would have shattered with the force of his landing.

Huffing quietly, Cassian reaches down, sifting through the rocks at his feet until he finds another flat one. He tosses it gently in his hand, testing the weight of it, allowing the familiarity of it to center him. This deep in the woods, none of the sounds of the pack or the village reach him. It’s just the small, gentle waves lapping along the shore, a birdsong further in the forest, and the wind whispering through the branches and leaves.

“Have you finished sulking yet?”

Cassian throws the rock in his hand hard enough it merely plops beneath the water. “Fuck off.”

“I couldn’t help but notice that Nesta doesn’t have mating marks this morning,” Emerie comments. Her tone is idle, but Cassian doesn’t buy it for a second.

“She’s my wife, not my mate.”

“Is that so?”

Cassian knows what that sarcastic drawl means. He whirls around on his second, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. “Don’t.”

“Just like your father then.”

“I said don’t.”

Emerie rolls her eyes at his clipped voice, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. “Do you plan on taking other females to your marriage bed as well, then? Plan to have a whole brood of little bastards just like yourself.”

With a snarl, Cassian closes the distance between himself and Emerie until he’s looming over the female. “Don’t make me relieve you of your post.”

She doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t step back. That same unimpressed look is painted across her face, exasperation spilling through her brown eyes as she continues to meet his gaze.

“You and I both know you made me your second because of this,” Emerie reminds him, shoving hard at his chest until he steps back. “Because I call you out on your bullshit. Did you forget there’s a war coming? Hybern may be quiet for now, but we both know too quiet is worse. Especially now that he has the Cauldron. Our pack is strong, but we’re not that strong. What happens when your wife, when her family, abandons you? Abandons us? Because you had a stick up your ass?”

“And what would you have me do?”

“Stop being a dick to your wife,” Emerie tells him, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “If you respect her, the rest of the pack will respect her.”

Cassian sighs, crossing his arms across his chest. “I’ll try, alright?”

“I guess that’s the most I can ask for from an idiot male such as yourself.”

Emerie leaves Cassian alone with his thoughts after that, trekking back through the trees and toward the village. He stares out across the water of the lake, letting out another sigh. He hates that Emerie is right. The whole reason he agreed to this alliance, why he went through with this marriage, is for the pack. Loathe as he is to admit it, they will need Nesta and the Archerons if they want to stand any sort of chance against Hybern, no matter his own thoughts or feelings or opinions.

Besides, it’s not like they have to love one another, they just have to be amicable with each other.

Cassian groans, tilting his head back and scrubbing his hands down his face. Rolling his shoulders, he heads back toward the village. He stops in at the blacksmith, chatting easily with Elis while he works the flames and testing the weight and balance of the newest swords. He hits the bakery next, selecting some fresh goods to take back to the cabin. But as he steps back out, he catches the eye of Cresseida at the shop across the way. She’s wearing the same unimpressed expression that her wife did, and Cassian can practically hear Emerie’s voice in his head, chastising him for stalling.

He flashes Cresseida the finger, earning a fond shake of the head in return, but he gets the message. He trudges the rest of the way back to his cabin, taking the stairs slower than he normally would, but there’s no delaying the inevitable.

He pushes the door open and finds Nesta sitting on the sofa in front of the fire. She has a book open and propped on her knees, one he has no idea where she got it from. She doesn’t even bother to look up or acknowledge him, pointedly turning a page, so with a soft sigh, Cassian turns his attention to the kitchen. He starts pulling out ingredients, lining the counter with everything he’ll need, and grabs a pan.

“Have you eaten?” Cassian calls out, sparking a flame.

The sound of a book snapping shut lets Cassian know he heard her. “Are you intending to cook for me?”

“I promise not to poison it and everything, sweetheart.”

“How generous.”

It’s with a familiar ease that Cassian begins chopping up everything he needs, adding everything to the pan to saute. He mixes up the spices and prepares the sauce just as his mother used to when he was growing up, the smells swirling and filling the kitchen tugging at his memory as much as they tug at his heart.

He feels more than he hears Nesta step into the kitchen. Even with his back to her, his every nerve ending prickles with awareness of exactly where in the room she is, always zeroing in on her presence. The tickle of her breath skates across the skin of his neck as she stands just behind him, pressing up onto her toes to peer over his shoulder.

“Don’t trust my promise?”

Nesta huffs quietly, taking a step back from him. “I want to see my sisters.”

Cassian hums, so she knows he heard her, but he continues to prepare their food. He gives it all a good stir, scooping some onto the wooden spoon and holding it out toward Nesta in offering. She hesitates for a moment, gaze dancing between the spoon and his face, but then she slowly leans forward, accepting the taste.

“I want to see my sisters,” Nesta repeats, crossing her arms. “I want to make sure they’re alright.”

“Is it the vampires or the Vanserras that you don’t trust?” Cassian asks, plating up their food. “Or is it both?”

“It’s not about trust. You agreed to this marriage because you knew it was the only way to keep your pack safe from Hybern. I did it for my sisters, to ensure that Elain and Feyre would be safe. So I want to see them. My mother wrote a letter, and she will arrange it all. I just need a carriage.”

“Fine.”

Nesta blinks a few times, reaching out to accept the plate Cassian extends toward her. “Fine?”

“But either Emerie or Baz will accompany you. You can choose which.”

“Did you hit your head when I knocked you on your ass or something?”

“You wish,” Cassian tells her, settling at the table with his own plate. “You said so yourself, we need each other if we want to stand any chance against what’s coming. But I can assure you, sweetheart, I won’t let you get another chance like that again.”

Nesta hums noncommittally, but she settles in the seat across from him nonetheless. Cassian doesn’t miss the fact that she waits until he’s fully taken a bite of his own food before digging into her own. He doesn’t take it too personally.

They eat in relative silence, just the quiet clink and scrape of utensils. When they’re finished, Nesta snatches up her book again and retires to the bedroom. Cassian continues to putter around the cabin, sorting through the papers on the desk in his study, studying the information and intel about Hybern his wolves have been able to discover, scrutinizing the map and the markings on it.

But as clouds continue to move across the sky, masking the silver glow of the moon, as shadows continue to stretch across the floors of the cabin, exhaustion begins to tug at Cassian’s limbs. He knows that, realistically, he should retreat to the extra bedroom in the cabin, the one he always keeps made up in case one of the younger wolves needs a place to crash. But that voice in the back of his mind continues to whisper, continues to prickle and scrape for his attention. His nerve endings still feel on high alert, all too aware of the witch between these four walls.

Emerie just told him to stop being a dick to his wife. She never said anything about needing to trust her.

Cassian doesn’t even bother knocking, strolling straight into the bedroom. Nesta is already settled beneath the blankets, pillow propped at her back and that same book still in her hands. She glares over the pages at Cassian, making an affronted sound when he closes the door behind him.

“What are you doing?” Nesta demands with an annoyed huff. “There’s no magic dictating us anymore. Don’t you have another bedroom you can stay in?”

“Did you forget that you’re in my bedroom?” Cassian fires back.

He can feel Nesta’s glare sinking into his shoulder blades like knives as he turns his back on her. Can practically hear the way she’s seething. But she doesn’t say anything back, and Cassian refuses to be bothered. He fists a hand in the back of his shirt, tugging it up and off and tossing it aside. He continues stripping down until he’s comfortable to sleep, pulling the tie from his hair until his curls tumble comfortably around his face and shoulders.

When he turns back toward the bed, Nesta’s eyes are glued to his chest. Already, Cassian can feel a smirk tug across his face, a teasing comment on the tip of his tongue, but then he takes in Nesta’s expression. The slightly hollowed look to her blue eyes, the pinched brow and downturned lips. He looks down at his own chest, and barely holds in a wince at the sight. Purple and red patches are mottled across his skin, stretching up over his ribs.

“Is that regret I see on your face, Nes?”

That all too familiar scowl is back in a second. “Not if you keep calling me that.”

“Do I need to sleep with one eye open?” Cassian asks, stepping over to the bed and slipping beneath the blankets.

“Just fuck off, and go to sleep.”

Nesta rolls over and places her book on the small, side table, extinguishing the lantern and casting the bedroom in darkness. Cassian snorts softly at the dismissal, but he settles back against the mattress. He closes his eyes and wills his body to relax, but Nesta shifts, clearly getting more comfortable, and he’s painfully aware of her presence beside him.

She hasn’t been here long, but already her scent has permeated the cabin, and with her so close again, vanilla and lilies flood Cassian’s nose. He can feel the warmth of her, and when she shifts again, her foot brushes against his leg. He dares to turn his head to the side, toward her. Nesta has her back to him, but the blankets still cling to her every curve, rising and falling with each slow, steady breath. Her hair is fanned out across the pillow behind her, the strands practically glistening under the moonlight spilling through the window.

Cassian can still remember the way those strands of golden brown hair felt twisted between his fingers. He can still remember her body pressed against his, the sweet sounds of her moans echoing in his ears. He can still remember the tight heat wrapped around his cock. He squeezes his eyes shut against the onslaught of memories, suddenly feeling like a livewire. It would be too easy to turn to her fully, to press his body against hers. To latch his lips to the skin of her neck. To slide his hand across her waist, down her stomach, lower still.

Nesta’s name weighs heavy on his tongue, but Cassian is quick to swallow it back down. He rolls over onto his side, away from Nesta, giving his pillow a hard punch. These are the last type of thoughts he needs. Sighing softly, Cassian forces his mind to empty, to quiet, forces himself to give in to sleep’s embrace.

—

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @lady-nestas @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise @witch-and-her-witcher @fieldofdaisiies

[akwolfgrl]

Drowned song 6

Zoro stared up at the moon above, his horns and back resting against the wood of the crows nest. He heard the porthole to the men's bunk room open. The familiar scent of the new cook grated his nose, and he recognized the tobacco and sea scent. The blonde's scent was both enticing and dangerous, and zoro couldn't explain why. He peered over the edge of the crows nest, Sanji stood on the railing of the Merry in his swim trunks and a bag. Zoro watched as he dived into the water. He could have swore he saw a fin disappear in the water. He counted to watch the water waiting for a blond head to resurface, but just like Arlong Park, that never happened. Then Zoro could hear singing. The sound was filled with joy. He was pretty sure it was coming from the sea.

Zoro climbed down the ladder and stood next to the neat stack of clothes the cook had placed on the deck before diving into the dark, still waters below. He could pasintet, if he hadn't seen him stay under far longer than a human should Zoro would have dived in after him, after all he didn't want to hear his Luffy's whines at losing a chef.

He didn't know how long he stood and watched he saw ripples upon the surface of the water as a blonde head breached the still waters. He drew his sword as the other began to climb up the rope ladder. He had a bulging bag at his side. Sanji looked up at him, his bangs plaster to his forehead, scales dotted along his cheeks, Zoro watched as they faded away. He pointed his sword at the other man.

“What are you?”

“Do you really want to have this conversation here?” Sanji asked, raising one curled eyebrow. Zoro didn't answer and wasn't about to just let a potential enemy aboard the ship. “Fine so be it,” Zoro shuddered as he headed a familiar voice warp around his scenes. This song wasn't the same as the last two times. He rested the urge to put his sword away, it was hard, so fucking hard. His muscles shook and strained as he fought with himself. The song only became louder the harder he fought until he dropped his arm, his sword still in his hand. The song was still there, it was much quieter but it wasn't over yet. “Come on Zoro, just let me on board, I'll answer your questions then,”

Zoro reluctantly took a step back. The relief he felt was a rush that made me feel dizzy and good. He took another step, just feel it again. Zoro gripped his sword tighter and didn't take another step.

“Tell me! I know you're not human!” Zoro yelled at the blonde, still clinging to the rope ladder.

“Your one talk!” Sanji shouted back at him. “Unless those horns are just for decoration!”

“This isn't about me! It's about you being a potential danger to the crew,”

He watched as Sanji raised his visible curly brow. “Really? Zoro, if I wanted everyone dead, I would have done so already! I would have let Luffy drown more than once! I would have Lured your whole crew to the depths below while you all slept,” the blond shighed. “This is a fucking weird plase to have this discussion,”

“Fine, let whatever it is you're doing stop,”

“If you don't point your sword at me again I will,”

“Deal,” the music stopped filling his ears, a part of him missed it. Zoro stepped the rest of the way back, allowing the other on board. He watched impatiently as Sanji dried off and got dressed. His long hair hugged his body in wavy dripping curls, the blonde took a lighter, a cigarette, and a hair tie out of suit pocket. With a small click, he lit the cigarette he placed in his mouth and put the lighter away, and tied his hair back. Zoro took the time to notice a small bag sitting on the railing. “What's in the bag?”

“Hmm? Oh that's some sea urchins I found, come on let's have this talk in the galley so can put them away,” Zoro reluctantly followed him into the galley, he watched as Sanji puttered around in the kitchen. Before sitting down with two cups and a bottle of wine. “Sit, I won't bite,” Zoro took a seat across from Sanji as he poured the wine.

“Well? What are you?” Zoro asked as he took the wine offered. He tiped the glass back and swallowed a glup. It wasn't bad, not what he preferred, but it still had a nice flavor it was fruity but not sweet.

“I'm a siren,”

[sphylor]

Mushy May Day 5 - Animals

based both on the mushy may prompts by @forlorn-crows and on an ask @kkaisarion sent me about mountaindew birdwatching (also on AO3)

kinda based in my mountaindew headcanon universe thingy that i havent written yet so just pretend like you understand the context for this hdbjhf

reblogs appreciated!!

Divider made by @ghuleh-recs

“Where are we going?” Dew asked, looking around at all of the trees, peering past their trunks just in case they might be hiding something spectacular.

Mountain smiled and shook his head. “You’ll see. It's not too far now. Don't worry.” Mountain squeezed Dew’s waist reassuringly. He had insisted that he didn’t need a walking stick or any other support for the walk but Mountain knew that he was still feeling weak. The water ghoul had been leaning against him since they left the abbey. He didn’t mind, of course, he was there for whatever Dew needed. The closeness was nice too, obviously, and he may have blushed a little when Dew slipped his arm around his middle and pulled him in close.

“Feels like we’ve been walking for hours.” Dew sighed.

“It's been about ten minutes, Dewberry.” Mountain chuckled. “I would offer to carry you the rest of the way but I’m carrying all of this.” 

Dew looked up and eyed the bags Mountain was carrying. “Surely they can’t all be important.”

“I assure you they are.” The earth ghoul grunted as he readjusted his hold on them.

“More important than me?” Dewdrop batted his eyelashes coyly up at Mountain, whose face suddenly turned unreadable, almost sad.

“Nothing is more important than you.”

It was spoken almost like a confession. Dew would never admit to how red his cheeks went in that moment. He cleared his throat and reached up to touch the thing hanging around Mountain’s neck. “What’s that?”

“They’re binoculars. They let you see things far away.” Mountain explained. He hadn’t told Dew everything about the… trip that they were going on. Date? He wasn’t sure if he could call it a date, if he was allowed to at this point. He hadn’t exactly proposed it as a date but he and Dew had definitely grown close. There was something else there other than friendship. He just hoped he wasn’t the only one who felt it.

Dew hummed at the response and they continued their walk in relative silence. They didn’t need to speak, though, the woods filled the silence for them. The trees whispered secrets to one another, their orange leaves rustling in the faint breeze, the birds sang and chirped and cawed all around, and the distant sound of trickling water grew louder as they approached their destination. Mountain couldn’t deny he missed this, being out in his element. He loved looking after Dew and spending time in the abbey but the woods held a special place in his heart too. 

Up ahead there was a long wooden hut of sorts, sat on a small hill overlooking a stream running through a clearing. Mountain helped Dew up the steps to it and shut the door behind them once they were inside. A wonderful wooden smell hit them both and Mountain breathed it in deep. Long, narrow windows lined the wall looking out at the stream, with a bench and a desk running along underneath. Dew eased himself down onto the bench while Mountain set the bags on the desk.

“This is a bird hide.” Mountain answered the question he knew Dew was about to ask. “It's a place where you can birdwatch without disturbing the birds. Sometimes the siblings and other earth ghouls come up here but they won’t on a day like this.” He gestured out at the fine drizzle that had started to fall. The fact that he had glared particularly hard at Ivy when he mentioned he might join them also contributed to knowledge that they wouldn’t be disturbed. 

Dew nodded and looked around and Mountain started to unpack the bags. He had prepared a couple of flasks of tea for him and hot chocolate for Dew and some blankets to make sure the water ghoul didn’t get too cold. He had also brought a cushion so that Dew could sit comfortably on the bench, a bird guide, a notepad and pens to note down the birds they see, some snacks and another pair of binoculars for Dew to use. They were shiny and new, unlike his own pair which were battered and clearly well loved. Seeing as he wasn’t a part of the band, he would be staying while they went on tour and so he had gone around asking the ghouls and siblings that would be joining them if they needed anything looked after while they were gone. He had promised people that he’d look after their plants and dust their rooms and take care of any pets and even cover some weekly chores while they were away. But the extra work was worth it because he had managed to get enough cash to buy the new binoculars

He was starting to feel nervous about the whole idea, though. Dew hadn’t said anything so far as he explained and unpacked, he just looked around with that hard to read expression he always gets when he's thinking. What if Dew hated birdwatching? What if he thought this whole thing was stupid? What if Mountain had dragged him all the way here while he was still trying to heal for no reason? While he was cursing himself in his head Dew reached out and grabbed his hand, shutting off the negative thoughts immediately.

“This is obviously very important to you. Thank you for sharing it with me.” He said it softly but there was an insistence in his eyes that told Mountain the water ghoul truly meant what he said. Mountain smiled in response and sat on the bench next to him. Dew’s hands used to be so soft and smooth but he could already feel the rough calluses on his fingers from the bass lessons Mist had been giving him. He was so caught up mourning the fact that soon Dew would be going on tour that he almost didn’t hear him asking a question. “So what birds do you think we’ll see here?” His cool fingers slipped from Mountain’s hand as he rifled through the bird guide. He needed to focus on the present more and the time they still had to spend together.

“Probably some magpies and crows, some blackbirds, great tits,” Mountain took a slight pause to see if Dew would laugh at that, but the water ghoul showed no sign that he found it funny, which Mountain appreciated. “Chaffinches, wood pigeons, maybe a eurasian jay… there's a lot of birds out in that forest. You’ll probably hear more than you see.” 

“What one’s your favourite?” 

Mountain thought for a second before flipping through to a page near the end. A small, round bird with an orange breast and inquisitive eyes looked up at them from the book. “Robins.” 

Dew hummed “They look cute.”

“They are. And they have one of the most beautiful songs in all the forest. You’ve probably heard them early in the morning and in the evening as the sun rises and sets.” Mountain told him. “We’ll probably only see one of them today, though. They’re very territorial and will fight to the death over their space sometimes.”

“We’ll have to keep our eyes peeled then.” Dew nodded and picked up his binoculars. Mountain shuffled closer to Dew so he could see out the window and did the same. 

Half an hour had passed and they had only seen a few wood pigeons and some squirrels. No robin in sight. Mountain decided it was time to entice the birds in and stepped outside and spread around some seeds and nuts and apples and berries. That’s when the activity really started to pick up.

“OH! Look! There’s two more great tits over there! OH OH! And a blackbird!” Dew pointed excitedly. Mountain winced as the birds got spooked and took off.

“Dew-”

“OH and that's a… uh…” Dew grabbed the book and flicked through. “A dunnock!” The little brown and grey bird that had just emerged from the undergrowth disappeared back into the bushes at the sound.

“Dew, it's probably a good idea if you-”

“We still haven’t seen a robin, though-”

“Dew, can I kiss you?”

Mountain hadn’t meant to say that. Why did he say that? He must have gotten every single wire in his stupid brain crossed for that to come out of his mouth. Satanas he felt like he was gonna be sick. He had only wanted to ask Dew to be a bit quieter. Dew was just staring at him. He had his thinking expression again. Mountain knew he couldn’t be thinking anything good.

“Yes.”

Mountain almost didn’t register it for a moment. 

“Actually, please.”

Before he could even move Dew’s lips were on his. ‘Soft’ was the only thought that ran through Mountain’s mind as they kissed. Everything from the feel of Dew’s cool lips to the way he kissed him was soft. It ended way too soon for Mountain’s liking. Dew’s lips falling from his like blossom petals in spring. He wanted to chase them, capture those lips again and feel that indescribable rush. Once the blood had stopped rushing and his pulse had stopped pounding in his ears, Mountain could hear birdsong. Dew settled into his side and they didn’t speak for a moment, just watching the birds. A robin flew down and perched on a branch near the hide. It stopped for a moment, its clever eyes assessing them both, before it flew down to the ground and grabbed a mealworm and flew away.

“I thought that was never going to happen.” Dew said after a while and Mountain knew he wasn’t talking about the robin.

[syrupwrit]

for surana x morrigan! from serault, 'A forest victim: flowers sprouting from their eyes.'

Hi Rosella! Thank you >:] I went with a Scornful-Sorceress-era!Morrigan and a lowkey monstery Surana.

Under the cut, please find ~830 words of f!Surana/Morrigan for @dadrunkwriting.

-

Neria sleeps like a dwarf now, dreamless without the exertion of blood or lyrium, but only most of the time. Tonight her body rests in a tucked-away alley of what had once been the Varen Thaig commons. Her mind, however, walks with Morrigan.

What a curious forest. Tall ashes circle a wide, luxurious clearing, their rough trunks straighter than nature would make them. The place is empty, inasmuch as any part of the woods can be empty, but with the suggestion of a gathering just deserted, a feasting table just cleared. 

An apple core lies in the grass. An unpleasant, mounded shape lies a little beyond it, sprouted over with weeds. In the shallow shadows at the clearing’s edge, a rabbit’s eyes flash red and disappear.

Morrigan is a crow asleep on a high branch. She is a human figure in a rough cloak, bathed in soft blue light from the staff at her back. She is a snoring bear dug into the tree-roots. She is a spider and a bee and a wolf. 

There are two moons tonight: one a white half-circle, the other a mere hair of silver that’s somehow twice as bright as the first. Their conjunction is striking. The motions of the heavens have never claimed much of Neria’s attention, but Morrigan, when they traveled together, knew them as intimately as the cycles of her own body. Perhaps this night has some secret meaning, once hosted some ancient occasion that only the woods honor now.

Or perhaps not. “Hello, Morrigan. Am I here because I put on your ring?”

Neria keeps the rosewood ring on a chain under her armor. She hasn’t worn it on her hand for years, but earlier today, she slipped it on, in order to more freely heal a gash on her shoulder where darkspawn claws had caught. Her efforts have been strenuous. The streets of Varen Thaig run with black ichor.

Morrigan doesn’t answer her, though she’s looking her straight in the eye. She has clearly grown older, but time has been kind to her—sharpened her face, ripened her figure. There is a dandelion tucked behind her ear. Something low and ugly stirs in Neria’s heart.

Morrigan says, “So this is what’s become of you, Warden.”

“Fine words to greet me, witch.”

“So thin,” she says to herself. “So gray. The whites of her eyes beginning to turn.”

Neria rarely eats anymore, and there is a film over her vision sometimes that doesn’t leave when she blinks. “Sure, I’m not at my best, but I doubt it’s that bad.”

“Another year and she’ll be on her Calling.” Detached appraisal. Morrigan cannot hear her, or isn’t listening.

“And not a tear shed. You’re as cold as ever.”

“Perhaps I should not have kept him from her,” Morrigan murmurs, softening minutely, and Neria laughs.

“No, I think you made the right choice there. I’m a dead thing already, and not even a man. What could I offer a son?”

After a moment of deliberation, Morrigan seems to agree; her expression hardens. “It is the late hour that weakens me. The strangeness of the Applewoods, the precarity of my rest.” 

Her hand goes to the dandelion behind her ear, her gaze to the mound in the grass. “What would you think, I wonder, if you saw what goes on in these woods and towns, and how I plucked this flower from a Chantry priestess’ eye?”

“I wouldn’t think you much changed.”

“But in the Empress’ court, you would. You would find me very different.” Confirming rumors that Neria hardly suspected. But she’s rarely been above ground in these past months.

“I don’t think so, Morrigan.”

Morrigan looks at Neria, not seeing into her eyes, not feeling her breath or her fear. She takes the dandelion from her hair. She reaches out.

It has been almost ten years since Morrigan last touched her.

“There,” Morrigan says, still a crow, still a bee, still a bear. Talons and feelers and claws comb through Neria’s hair, finding it unwashed and greasy, some of it clumped and brittle with blood. Not a fitting host for a flower (not yet). “A spot of liveliness for the Warden. That is… not better.”

“I do like that I can rely on you to be honest.”

“So many have said,” says Morrigan, half-aware, stifling a cough; and then: “Neria?”

Her hand, her human hand, cradles Neria’s jaw for a moment, her golden eyes wide and caught on Neria’s, with that look of stunned surprise she’s only managed to provoke a few times. Neria’s heart squeezes.

“I didn’t mean to,” she tells her, pleading, like she always ends up pleading. Choose me, don’t leave me, take me with you. Forgive me. Morrigan had told her years ago to never come into her dreams.

But Morrigan’s face shutters, the staff bursts with blue light, the dream shoves her out, —she is thrown back, alone on the stone streets, a rapidly wilting dandelion fallen beside her.

[avioxi]

[All Seeing Eyes Hermitcraft AU]

TRIGGER WARNINGS IN TAGS

Chapter I: No Sweeter Taste Than That of Bitter Liberation

Grian had done it.

Escape.

Sure it was insane, and sure he hadn’t technically fully escaped, but damn, he was close.

And now he was being chased.

The moon hung high as storm clouds gathered. He could hear wingbeats behind him. The yells of guards shouting orders at each other, chasing him. The watcher felt his heart pumping, his white wings rapidly beating, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

He spotted the clearing, he was so close.

He dived quickly, as he had practiced for so long, and sharply veered left, carefully dodging shrubs and tree trunks, the foliage helping hide the bird.

Grian just had to fly. Just keep flying.

Thunder boomed overhead. Good, the guards can’t fly in the rain well. Nor see very well either. Once the storm started they’d have to return.

The watcher felt triumphant. He’d escaped. After so long he’d gotten out. It wasn’t without sacrifice, of course, but totally worth it. He could feel the discomfort in his leg from jumping from a ledge and landing wrong, and the hot stinging pain all across his body of sword slashes. It didn’t matter though, he was out.

It wasn’t the first escape attempt.

He couldn’t help but be reminded of last time.

This time was different.

He was out.

Free.

Grian couldn’t help but to smile. The joy didn’t last for long though.

Rain began to patter down, then with a flash of lightning it was pouring. His wings struggled to keep up in the wet. Sure the guards couldn’t fly in this downpour, but neither could he. The thunder and lightning intensified. Crackling and booming, vibrating the air.

Suddenly within a sharp change in gust, he was thrown off. The bird panicked, trying to realign his wings. The trees were rapidly approaching.

Crash!

It was too late.

-

Sunshine filtered through the leaves. Scar found it much better than the storms that racked the trail they had to travel the previous night. The air damp from morning dew, and birds chirped in the trees.

The vex looked at his companion. The companion who of which was also a vex, and that vex had been driving the wagon all night, and looked rather exhausted.

“The sun feels nice,” Cub commented, putting Scar’s thoughts into voice for him, “Trail’s all muddy ahead though. We’ll have to make camp.”

Scar chuckled, smiling to his large gray and white feline sleeping in the back of the covered wagon, “I’m sure Jellie would be pleased to be out of the wagon. Plus the horses would probably want to rest as well. You too.”

Cub rolled his eyes, smirking, “I’m fine, man. Think what you want.”

Scar and Cub had been traveling for a while now, visiting city after city, selling goods from their wagons.

The caravan consisted of three horses, used to be four but one was sold after running into trouble with a group in one of the cities, a covered wagon, which helped house most of living supplies and revenue gained from the endeavors, and a smaller wagon used to carry the products, which consisted of nothing consistent whatsoever, as they sold whatever they had and whatever makes money.

The business Convex was a great idea.

The two vexes, a mountain feline, and three horses. Yeah that’s a totally normal group.

As the wagon halted to a stop in a clearing close to the trail, Scar hopped out, stretching. His mechanical fitted legs whirring as he moved. It wasn’t an annoying sound, of course, but they for some reason needed to buzz every morning.

He hummed a playful tune as he set up the camp with Cub, helping assemble the tents, and grabbing dry sticks out of the wagon to start a fire for breakfast.

Scar admired the clearing, lined with beautiful pines, patches of lavender and poppies scattered throughout the edges. Songbirds tweeted and flew from branch to branch.It really was pretty, wasn’t it?

He stiffened at a crow's warning call. The sound of rustling came from within the woods. Of course peace was disrupted.

“Cub,” he shout-whispered, “there’s something in the trees.”

His friend stared at him, “I’ll grab your bow,” Cub murmured. The group had run into various thieves and creatures in their time of these journeys. Once they had a dragon who had ambushed their camp while they were unprepared, and burned and stole more than half of their stock, and left Scar with some nasty, well, scars.

Not that he didn't have a bunch already.

Thieves were also a big issue with the amount of attention Convex’s wagons receive, and not much guard the rich would have. Numerous times they’ve been raided. Luckily, over time they’ve gotten more skilled and ready for these raids.

His fellow vex quickly made his way to the wagon, and tossed the bow to Scar. It was a nicely crafted thing, honestly. Built with walnut, and laced throughout with vex crystal. His hands naturally fell into place as he raised it. Ready for any beast or foe to exit the brush.

Suddenly, a ragged avian appeared, looking rather half dazed. His wings seemed to be one of a mockingbird. His dusty blonde hair and gray feathers caked with mud, and my gods, is that blood? Poor guy.

Scar lowered his bow. The avian stared up at him, looking honestly terrified, and tried to scrabble away, but his leg gave out from under him.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay,” Scar soothed, “I’m not gonna shoot you.”

Trembling, the bird eyed him with uncertainty. He looked so defeated.

Scar tossed his bow to the ground as a show of peace, and took a step away. He glanced back at Cub and gestured him forward. He needed to show that they didn’t intend to hurt him.

The vex lowered himself to a crouch, “Hello there. I’m Scar. We don’t want to hurt you, alright? No harm intended whatsoever. So, to start with, what’s your name?”

He noticed the scar that traveled up his face, slashing into his eye, which was foggy.

He’s half blind, Scar thought, no wonder he’s so wary. Plus, looks like he’s been through something rough.

The avian slightly relaxed, still tense though.

“I’m Grian,” he hesitated, “sorry for stumbling into your camp. I would leave but..” He gestured hopelessly to his leg, “can’t exactly do that right now.”

Scar looked at Cub, then looked back at Grian. An idea forming.

“We could help,” Scar offered, “Cub knows healing, and if you have nowhere to go, we’re heading toward somewhere you can stay. Right, Cub?”

Cub hesitantly nodded, giving Scar the eye. Which clearly indicated Scar would receive a firm talking to later, not that it mattered, he never listened.

Grian looked at the two, and seemed like he was considering it.

Eventually, he sighed, “I suppose. It’s not like I’ve got very good chances out in the wild like this anyways.”

Scar rushed forward to help the mockingbird up, but stopped when Grian flinched away.

“I’ve got it,” he muttered, attempting to get up, “I can- hrng- handle it”

His eyes were so very glazed with pure pain as he limped to cloth that was laid out to eat on earlier, now given a much more important purpose. He collapsed onto the fabric, clearly trying to stifle a groan of discomfort.

Now that Scar was able to fully observe the bird, his heart almost broke for how ragged he was. His hair knotted and unkempt, caked with mud. His face and skin dusty and dirty, oozing not quite dry scabs covering him. One wing twisted at a clearly uncomfortable angle, and it seemed to be broken. His feathers were all ruffled into different directions, several were damaged and broke off.

This man was truly the embodiment of disheveled.

Scar couldn’t help but wonder what happened to him.

-

Grian couldn’t believe what had happened.

How could he crash?

At least he hadn’t been captured but now he was surrounded by two complete strangers who were both readily able to attack him until they saw how pathetic he was.

Now it was around the height of the day, the dew had far lifted. He looked to the two vexes who had taken him in.

Scar, the one who was initially going to shoot him and then immediately offered sanctuary, was rather happy looking, and seemed to be getting scolded by Cub as of right now. The happy go lucky vex had dark brown hair, which at the moment was pulled back into a low bun, stunning green eyes, and everywhere where any skin showed, there were scars visible.

As for his friend, Cub wore a dark cloak, which had rather pretty pale blue-gray highlights, had black hair, and was currently glaring at Scar. Clearly he didn’t exactly agree with Scar’s idea to take in a complete and utter stranger. Grian didn’t blame him

Grian sat, absentmindedly picking at a scab that had formed on the back of his hand. He ultimately decided that he might as well travel with this bizarre band to their destination. If they let him stay, that is.

 He would fare better with companions rather than alone.

Cub had put ointments and bandages onto the worse wounds, and built a makeshift splint out of materials they had at hand.

Oh gods, his head hurted. The crash had been rough. Grian had been knocked unconscious for the night, covered him in even more scratches and bruises, and severely damaged his wing. His hollow bones were so fragile, so he wasn't completely shocked.

Many times growing up he was injured, considering he had often played too rough, or would fall from trees, or would get distracted and miss the landing. But this one was a tad bit more rough than the childhood injuries.

Grian attempted to stretch his wings out, to test how much it would agonize him. He immediately felt a spasm of pain flow throughout his wings and body. Yeah, can't do that.

He grunted with pain as he brought them back in, bits of dirt and dried mud falling off of his feathers. Grian glanced back at them. Gods, they were so filthy. It’d take ages to preen, though he couldn’t do that right now.

“Too sore,” he muttered to himself. He pricked out a broken feather to admire his new plumage. Admittedly, he was shocked he had been able to shift so quickly. Grian seemed to have changed into a mockingbird.

Huh.

Grian was pulled from his thoughts as he noticed a rather large feline eyeballing him from behind the wagon. It’s tail twitching back and forth.

He felt panic rise. He wouldn’t be able to run or fly, and cats seemed to think birds were a great snack.

“Hey guys- come help,” he squawked panickedly, frozen in place, “I seem to have an issue!”

The two companions hurried over, both wielding weapons, ready for attack. But both immediately became just unconcerned.

Cub huffed and rolled his eyes, “That’s just Jellie.”

Scar was giggling, petting the feline, “Why hello Jellie! You’re scaring our new friend!”

She rolled onto her back, purring loudly. Grian stared incredulously at the vex who was now rubbing the giant cat's belly and making baby noises.

Scar turned his head towards Grian, still chuckling.

“She’s friendly!”

Grian had a hard time believing that.

Cub cleared his throat, gesturing towards the camp, “So, Grian. I understand you’ll be traveling with us, correct?”

The avian nodded, and Cub continued, “Luckily, we are only a few days' journey away from our destination. We should be able to make ground again in the morning.”

Scar looked up from petting Jellie as she got up and prowled away. He was grinning.

“So you’re joining us?”

Grian sighed, “I suppose so.”

Scar’s green eyes shone, his grin widening.

“And so the journey begins!”

[justagamerandaweeb]

Wake up.

This is a clear inspiration from the mission in Spider-Man 2 where you play as MJ and try to look for Peter all while the Symbiote is taking control of his body. But, instead of Peter, Giyuu is rather the host (mainly because I think he would be a great host, and I think it would be cool if he had the Symbiote, and I had this idea in the back of my head).

By the way, I love how the Symbiote is supposed to represent substance abuse/addiction. But some of you might've already known that.

_______________________

A stormy and rainy night hailed down the Demon Slayer HQ, thunder booming like an explosion with every lighting constantly striking like a flash from a bright light.

You were writing notes for Shinobu about how the suit operated, and how it alters a person's personality when worn. You then heard the sound of a thump outside your door, and you turned around to see Giyuu in front of the door, wearing the suit. "T-Tomioka? What... Are you still wearing the suit? I thought Tamayo would help you take it off." You said, sounding extremely perturbed.

He glanced at you with his cold blue eyes as he said, plodding to his bed, "I was... but it was an ambush... Not by her, but rather by some rouge ronin who tried to kill her, and me." He lays down on his bed, and yawns as he continues, "But, I stopped them." You walked up to him and said, "But, shouldn't you be concerned? I mean you know what'll happen to Ubuyashiki if we don't give him the suit, right?"

He nods his head as he makes another yawn. "I know, but can I get some rest? Stopping those ronin... made me exhausted..." he said as he started to softly snore. You quietly stammered as you dedided to save your breath and went back to the table to continue writing your notes. You look back to see that the tendrils of the suit were pulling the comforter of the bed up to him, making him more comfortable as he was sleeping.

You seeing that made your skin crawl as you verbally shivered and went back to what you were doing. But that didn't last long as through the deafening sounds of the rain, you could hear the sound of someone talking outside. You peek through the window and see a few straw hats outside with black and red kimonos. "Tomi--" you softly shouted out to wake Giyuu up, only to find an empty bed.

(Y/N) grabs her katana that was propped right next to her and stuck it in-between the belt and took the long blade out of her sheath as se sauntered to the door, and slowly slid the door open. A crow swooped down to her, perched on your forearm as she said to the crow, "Wake up the Hashira, tell them to help us." It nods, and started to fly away.

As it was flying, a ronin put his tanto around her neck as they whispered to her ear in a parlous tone, "Where is the Shadow?" (Y/N) puts your hands up as she responded, "W-What?" Which makes them dig his blade deeper into her neck. "Don't toy with me, girl. Where. Is. The Sha--" he was suddenly interrupted as they was yanked off, and was thrown at a tree trunk.

(Y/N) turned around to see Tomioka, snarling at the limp, unconscious body, and scales up the tree, platforming on them as he ran. "Up there! In the trees! Follow it!" One of the ronin shouted as they ran into the woods, trying to capture Giyuu. (Y/N) followed them, but without them knowing. She stealthed around them, even silently taking them out using lethal force. It was until she reached a small village, some place that could fit a group of 50, to 100 occupants.

She hid behind one of the small houses as you leaned her head to see Giyuu perched up on one of the roofs of the houses, scouting the area to locate any more ronin. She were sneaked around, and stopped dead at her feet as one of the ronin passed by the alley, looking around for her, and Giyuu.

(Y/N) rolled and quickly hid behind a house as she looked both ways to confirm that you were in the clear, and let out a soft sight of relief. That relief was ephemeral as she heard a stranger shout above her, "The hell are you doing? Do you not know how late it is!?"

(Y/N) begged them to stay quiet and they responded, "Don't tell me to be quiet when I'm trying to sleep!" Resulting in one of the ronin finding her location. But they were quickly put down as Giyuu latched his tendrils on the wall of a house, and used his momentum to smash the ronin's head against it. He let out a horrifying roar as he started to pounce on the houses to escape.

(Y/N) looks at the stranger, completely in shock as she says to them, "Stay inside, and keep quiet." And paced herself to catch up with Giyuu. (Y/N)'s clothes were completely drenched from the rain, but none of that mattered to her was her first priority was keeping Giyuu safe. You knew things would go bad ever since the suit was transferred to him. When he almost died from a stab wound in a vital area. At first, she thought it was a blessing. But as time went by, the suit started to corrupt him more, it was making him more truculent in combat, made him more inflamed to his comrades and friends, and made him have little regard for civilian casualties.

We'll fix you, Tomioka. And we're gonna destroy that suit. She thought as her pace changed from running, to a full-haul sprint. (Y/N) dropped down a cliff as she then felt another ronin have their tanto up against her neck. They shushed (Y/N), but she retaliated as she hits their face with the back of her head, and made a quick slash on their neck, making them choke on their own blood. She winces as she touches the back of her head, and then hears the sound of something dragging behind her, and she turns around and sees Giyuu walking with an unconscious body behind him.

"Tomioka? You still in there?" She asked in a dithered tone as Giyuu tilted his head, and threw the body on a tree trunk, hitting the back of their head as they lay there dead on the floor. Giyuu jumps into the trees, as you look in the distance to see another small village, connecting the pieces to figure out that's where he's going.

(Y/N) felt someone touch her shoulder, and she made a pirouette and prepped her blade, only to see that it was the Hashira. "Calm yourself, (Y/N), we came here as fast as we could. You okay?" Kyojuro said to her as he put his hand on her shoulder. (Y/N) sighs out of relief as she says, "Thank goodness you guys are here! Tomioka, he's—"

"We know, we saw the damage he's causing. We have to stop him before he hurts innocent people." Shinobu said as she had something in her hand. "Then what the hell are we standing around for? Let's go!" Sanemi said, having a sense of urgency in his voice, which was rare considering his personality. (Y/N) nodded as she says, "Okay, follow me." And started to run through the forest.

As you were all galloping through the forest, Kyojuro matched his speed with (Y/N) as he asked her, "What's going with Tomioka? Why is acting rouge and killing anyone he comes across?" "It's not him, I think it's the suit. That thing changed him so much in so little time, he actually believes that it makes him a better Hashira." Shinobu ran right next to her as she added more to this conversation, "But it's making him worse. Ever since he had the suit, his personality began to change. Me and (Y/N) both knew something like this would happen, but we didn't expect it to happen so quickly. All that pent up anger and sadness, it's a dengerous combination when paired to someone like him and the suit."

"We need to get it off him, and destroy it. We can find another cure for Ubuyashiki when we finish this." (Y/N) said as her pace started to hasten, urgently trying to get to the village before a makes a massacre. You came across two ronin lying on the floor, dead. One had multiple broken bones and some of them were protruding out of the skin, while the other's body parts were in the opposite direction, including their neck. He's already started...

(Y/N) began to sprint as he heard the sound of someone exclaiming. "(Y/N), wait up! You know you can't do this alone!" Kyojuro shouted out, trying to stop (Y/N) from getting hurt. (Y/N) makes a turn to see a Giyuu fighting the ronin surrounding him. (Y/N) shouts at Giyuu, "Tomioka, stop!" which makes Giyuu's head bolt to lock eyes on her, and then he throws the body in her direction. She jumped over the body and the body hit the corner of a wall, the ronin's back bent backward, potentially breaking their spine.

Giyuu then prances away as just when (Y/N) was about to call out his name, she sensed someone behind her as she saw a silhouette of a katana above her head, and she turned around to see one of the ronin about to slash her, but Muichiro was quick to deflect it. "Kyojuro told you to wait for us, right?" He then parries the straw hats katana, slashes their chest and neck. "You should listen to your superiors to when they tell you to wait."

"I'm sorry, but Giyuu needs me. He's gonna get himself killed if I don't snap him out of this." (Y/N) said, indisputably worried about something happening happening to Giyuu. "Then don't let us stop you. But before you go, take this." Shinobu said as she gave you some sort of object. It were little bells mashed together, like as if it were a high-pitched alarm, and a stick. "It might be loud enough for Tomioka-san to get him back to his senses. Although I think it might be more effective if you're in a spot that has a lot of reverb."

"We'll take of the ronin, you make sure his ass stays in check." Sanemi said as he took his katana out of his sheath and (Y/N) nods. She then began to run as she was following Giyuu to some sort of cave. Hang in there, Giyuu. I'll help you get rid of this... thing. She jumped down and the first thing she was met was Giyuu pouncing on a rock, and snarling at her. He then jumps deeper into the cave as she says, "Wait! Giyuu, I wanna help you!"

(Y/M) slowly walked around the cave as the only thing helping you navigate through it was the chaos that Giyuu was causing as he went deeper. It came to a halt as she looked up to see Giyuu latching onto the ceiling with his tendrils, curled up into a ball as if he was becoming a cocoon. "G-Giyuu?" She grabbed the mashed-up bells as she continued to talk, "I need to know, if you are going to comply about us taking the suit off of you, are you content with us doing that?" She spoke out, but not a reply elicited out of Giyuu's mouth.

(Y/N) pulls out the stick as she says, "C'mon, Tomioka, say something." And still no answer. She puckers her lips as she thought, Forgive me, Tomioka. And started to repeatedly hit the bells. The sound of it ricocheting off of the cave walls as Giyuu made a screech of pain, and collapsed to the floor. Mini tendrils were flailing around him as he was covering his ears to make the hearing less painful.

She stopped and slowly walked up to his unconscious body as she said, "I know you're in there, c'mon." She was about to touch his face, but retracted back as she noticed the suit disembarking to reveal his sleeping face. (Y/N) was flabbergasted from this. This whole time, as he was doing this, he was asleep? That must mean... that the suit is really controlling him. She was scared to even touch him, but she then took the bell and the stick, and smashed them together one more time to see what would happen.

His body had a malfunction, but he started to recover. Giyuu started to sit up as he said to you, "(Y/N)... " but the suit, embarked on his face again as he looks up to you and says, "Run." His eyes looked more menacing, and his voice sounded more demonic. (Y/N)'s eyes dilated in fear as she dodged a punch from his tendrils. Giyuu unleashes a deep, rumbling roar as (Y/N) speaks to him, "I wasn't trying to hurt you!"

She then wedges through a crack in the rocks when she felt him grab her wrist. "(Y/N)..." She panicked as she said, "Tomioka, THAT'S ENOUGH!" and clashes the bells, making him screech and giving her enough time to squeeze through and continue running. She then somersaulted as she rolled over his tendrils. There's the outside, almost there! Giyuu latched next to the entrance as he was about to grab her, but you slashed his tendrils, making him grunt in pain.

She slid under the rocks and quickly hid in the woods as shortly after, he broke the debris covering the door, and frantically looked around for her, like a hungry predator looking for its escaped prey. He then started to go the other way, prancing away as (Y/N) let out a sigh of relief. Her hand was shaking with adrenaline and she tightly balled it up as she said, "Tomioka... That suit... is making you a monster." She started to walk back to base as she thought, I hope the others are okay... she then looked at her wrist and said, "We're gonna fix you, Tomioka, I promise."

_______________________

Hm, honestly don't know how I feel about this, since I almost took every set piece of the story and parodied it to make it work in the Demon Slayer world. But if you enjoyed it, that's all that matters.

[yayaidea]

Crow maison 03

written by Chakriya PHOU

illustrated by Sann KEO

It was crowded on Phnom Penh street. Kanita took photos of things she saw on the street. Because of traffic, they spent half an hour leaving the city. Then the car moved in the direction to Kampong Speu province on national road number 4.

After spending a long time on the plane, Kanita was tired, hence she fell asleep. Car ran in a smooth way so she could take a nice rest but when it turned to run on a red ground way with some holes on the road, she awoke.

“Beautiful,” she said as she looked through the mirror and saw green farms before her eyes. without waiting, she took her camera and recorded the awesome nature with a smile on her lips. It was not easy to find such beautiful nature in the US. Since the driver understood, he opened the car window for her to take a photo.

“Thanks,” Kanita turned to Mok and said, and Mok replied to her with a smile..

Most of the streets in the rural village were ground streets. There was a lot of dust. As the window was  not shut, the dust came in. Kanita needed to cover her nose and mouth with her hand. Seeing that, Mok closed the window quickly.  Actually, there were a lot of great natural views, but because of the dust, the girly could only watch from inside the car.

After a long journey, finally, they arrived.

From a distance Kanita could see a house from the tall trees. As the car arrived in front of the house, Mok stopped and walked out to open the wooden gate. Then he came back in and drove the car to park in a wide space in front of the house.

Kanita stepped out of the car while Mok was opening the trunk taking the suitcase out. She stood and looked at the Crow Maison. There was no plaque. If she came by herself, she would not be able to find it, she thought.

Kanita scanned the house. It was made of wood with a shape like a box, and covered by a roof. There was no window, only a door in the middle where a lady was standing.

Kanita looked at that lady. She saw she wore a blouse and long straight skirt.

Mok came near and told, “She is Aunt Dari, housekeeper.” 

Kanita walked towards the elder woman named Dari and she showed her hand on purpose to shake hands when she reached her, but Aunt Dari raised her two hands up and saluted her in Khmer traditional greeting way.

“Oh,” Kanita exclaimed in a little bit of surprise, then she saluted back.

Though Aunt Dari didn’t smile. She stated, “Please come in.” Then she showed her back and walked leading.

It was not a pleasant welcome; however, Kanita didn't want to mind her. She followed her while Mok carried her luggages and walked behind.

Seeing the outside design, Kanita thought it was strange. As she arrived inside, she felt it was very weird.

After the door, it was a big hall without any decoration or even a sofa. In the middle of the house there was a big pillar and it was round like an orange.

‘Who is the designer?’ Kanita thought.

After the pillar, there was a door. Next to the door, there were twin stairs towards the first floor.

“It is the door to the kitchen, bathroom and other rooms,” Aunt Dari said while pointing to the door. “Kitchen and bathroom, you can go in but other rooms are not allowed to go in.”

“Why?” Kanita asked.

“It is the rule of this house,” Aunt Dari said and her face was still straight. Afterwards, she went up the left stair. Kanita was silent; she climbed the stairs following the elderly woman with an unhappy mind.

“This is your room,” Aunt Dari said as she opened the door of the room.

Without saying a word, Kanita walked in. Aunt Dari stood at the door. As for Mok, he came in after, but he just put her suitcase in the room then he left.

The room was clean, but Kanita wanted to tour around for a bit. She saw there was a bathroom on the right side after the door, then there was a big bed, and there was a wooden dress cabinet on the side of the bed. This room had three windows which she could see the road and the yard. In the yard, there was a big tree.

“Crow Maison has a rule,” Aunt Dari stated. “You can go out but you have to arrive at 6pm. Then you have to stay in the house. You cannot get out of the house even to the yard after that hour. Moreover, you cannot touch the owner's things and you cannot take out the owner's things.”

“I am a guest, not a prisoner,” Kanita said. But Aunt Dari ignored her words. “I come here everyday, from 6am to 5pm,” she claimed. “Mok working time is the same as mine. If you have something, you can ask me.” 

Kanita didn't say but her face showed that she was not very happy.

“Please enjoy your stay. I'm going to make lunch for you.”

After saying it, Aunt Dari left and closed the door.

‘What kind of service?’ Kanita thought. ‘Even a five star hotel does not have such a rule.’

Although she could complain, she had to stay in this house because she paid already.

Lazy to waste time, Kanita took her dresses from her suitcase and organized them in the cabinet. There was a small makeup table close to bed. The girl put her cellphone and camera there. Then she went to bed and switched on her laptop. In the house there was no Wi-Fi. It was lucky she had asked her senior and had prepared things in advance.  She could share connections from the local network she bought at the airport.

There was no air-conditioner, only a fan. Since Cambodia was a hot country, it was a little bit difficult for Kanita who had been living in a cold country. But it became good when she opened the windows. The wind was fresh and cool, making the young lady feel content and relax.

After organizing things, Kanita took her laptop then went to stayed on the bed. She started typing what she saw and felt as she stepped her feet on the land of Cambodia.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Kanita got out of the bed to open it.

“Lunch is already," Aunt Dari said with a trolley next to her.

“Keep it downstairs and I will go to eat,” Kanita said.

“Crow Maison does not have a dining room and it is the rule that the guests should eat in the room.”

Kanita narrowed her eyebrows, “Kidding? No dining room?”

Still the face of the housekeeper was straight and she didn't say anything. Having no choice, Kanita opened the door to be big for the trolley to be pushed in.

“I will come to take the trolley in the next one hour,” Aunt Dari said.

“Just half an hour is enough,” Kanita said.

But the elderly woman did not put her ears in. She left the room.

Kanita shook her head, “I don't like her behavior.”

[divinelyvalentine]

The Masquerade - Eloise and the Masked Footman 🩶

Read below or on Archive of Our own AO3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57643417

Summary: During Eloise Bridgerton's brothers (benedict) masquerade ball, she finds herself in the arms of a strange masked man. One capable of making her feel more vulnerable than ever.

══════════ஓ๑♥๑ ═════════════

A mysterious dance

“How much longer must we endure this dance of puppets?” Eloise huffs, pretending to inspect the rose bushes in the flower beds just outside the front doors of the dance hall. “It's as if we're all marionettes in some endless, tedious performance.”

“This ‘masquerade’,” Penelope corrects, “must go on as long as Benedict needs it to go on.”

“Or at least until my mother hears an ‘I do’ .” Eloise plucks away at the dead petals.

“Finding love isn't always that easy, Eloise. Sometimes it takes days, or months, or…” Penelope pauses, hearing her name being called from behind. Colin is pacing toward her. “Or years.” she finishes, her voice softening as she turns to face him.

Eloise raises a brow. “Wait– Colin. Just a moment I,” Eloise starts.

Now, hand in hand, Colin and Penelope turn to Eloise. They both appear a bit concerned. Eloise realizes it could be unfair to keep Penelope any longer, as she had already given most of the night to her company. The reality is that Penelope is no longer just hers. She has to share her with her brother, of all people. Still, Penelope had already accompanied her most of the night, and it is only fair to allow her some time with her significant other.

“I just…” Eloise swallows the rest of her words and then waves them off dismissively. “Never the mind, I've got it. Carry on and enjoy yourselves.”

Penelope's look of concern melts into a warm smile before she nods at Eloise and practically skips toward the main ballroom. It takes some self-convincing before Eloise decides to enter the ballroom anyway. But, much to her luck, just as she does, a gust of wind sweeps in from behind her and flickers out most of the candles. As the maids rush to relight them, Eloise finds respite outside once more.

She leaves through the servants quarters and out the side door. In the sparse patch of woods just a few feet away, a swing set is hooked up. She decides to settle there for a moment and places a stick of tobacco in her mouth.

“I should warn you, it can be quite the challenge to hold a light during a night like this.” A deep voice emerges from behind her, nearly causing her to startle a leap.

Now, though, the person is in full view thanks to the blue light of the full moon. It is a man and he is leaning his formal tuxedo against the trunk of the very tree that's holding the ropes of the swing. From what Eloise can see, his mask is shaped like a crow, similar to hers.

“Would you mind?” He holds up his own stick of tobacco.

“Oh,” Eloise releases a spurt of breath “I would, but it's my last spark. And... well, if I gave it to you, I wouldn't have enough for myself now, would I?” Though it is the truth, Eloise prevents herself from chuckling at the mans disappointment.

As the words leave her lips, another gust of wind extinguishes the flame, leaving them at the mercy of the striped shadows. She mutters a curse under her breath, but before she can react, the man crouches in front of her, his face inches from her lips.

In a swift, almost playful motion, he produces his own match, igniting it with a flick. The flame dances as he brings it close, teasingly sparking the end of her stick before brushing his own tip against hers. His gaze never losing concentration.

“Ladies first.” he mumbles through the stick between his clenched teeth. Somehow, amidst the madness, he manages an amusing grin. A grin that Eloise believes complements his rather strong jawline. A grin that she believes changes what of his appearance she can make out. A grin that sort of makes her smile as well.

The moment seems to stretch longer than it truly is, her eyes fixate on the only parts of him displayed past the mask. One such being his eyes. His long lashes blink sparsely with concentration, as he's solely focused on attempting to light his stick on hers. His attention is entirely on the task, not even glancing at her, yet she can't tear her gaze away from his bold act.

The moment the tip of his stick reddens, he backs away nodding a bit.

“There,” he says. “I find it easier to light during the windy months in this manner.”

Eloise remains speechless, her voice caught in her throat at the suddenness of it all. When she finally attempts to speak, her words tumble out in a stutter.

“Well?” The man questions.

“Yes–I'm sorry what?” Eloise scrambles to gather her senses.

“Was it not easier to light that way?” he asks.

Eloise clears her throat, nodding. “So,” she starts, refusing to allow a man to leave her in such disarray. “What brings you out here Mr…”

“Surely you must know the rules. No names at a masquerade.” He says “As to why I am out here well… Everyone in ‘there’ is completely unidentifiable. I would hate to accidentally ‘enjoy’ a dance with the likes of my worst enemy. Or, worse, my own flesh and blood.”

She chuckles. “I suppose that's a good enough excuse if any though–all be it-- an excuse at the end of the day.”

“And you?” he asks. “Are you not relishing in the same respite?”

“This, eh, is not really my thing.” Eloise’s hands wave wildly “I am merely here because my brother needs to find a lifelong partner. Somehow, me being present contributes to something in some way. Something, currently, I'm not sure of–but certain my mother's conjured up an explanation somewhere.” She laughs.

It takes him a moment as he's staring at her; but eventually, after a few beats, he returns a laugh. They both tense up a bit as they hear the orchestra start up once more.

“I suppose everything in there is settled now.” Eloise kicks her feet so that way the swing twists a bit.

“Sounds so.” He stares at her for a moment, at the building, and then back at her. “I suppose I could go inside.” his broad shoulders shrug. “But then who would protect the young lady who foolishly plays around in the woods alone at night?”

She smirks. “A ‘young lady’ would be my grade school sister. Not I. Me, well I am perfectly capable of conducting myself within a few steps of an event.” Eloise states.

“Oh,” he lifts his hands as if in surrender. “Apologies for the misunderstanding. Truly, ‘madam’.” There's a taunting note in his statement. “What do you suppose you are? An old lady? Tell me, how does an old lady appear so beautifully youthful?” he asks.

Eloise drifts off, reflecting on the similar compliments she has received before. However, this man stands out—not just for his words, but for his exceptional delivery.

“I suppose we should be off to dance now?” He says. “But I'm assuming you, madam, are not the type to return inside either.”

“You pick up on my character all too well sir… Sir Mystery.” Eloise flashes him a thin lipped smile.

“I'm quite certain that I can pick you up ‘extremely’ well, miss.” He's looking at her now and his gaze doest help the nature of his tone when he says those words. Before she can fully grasp quite what he meant, he speaks again.

“You would rather not dance at all tonight then?” he asks.

Eloise leans in blowing a bit of smoke. “I would rather take my chances of performing the American square dance in that muddy pond over there.” Eloise points to a thick marsh just behind the man.

“In that pond of mud then?” He asks. “You are certain?”

She nods. “I mean more or less–”

Before Eloise can finish her sentence, the man does something unexpected—he jumps into the puddle. In utter shock, Eloise looks around for anyone who might have witnessed his deed. Despite herself, she bursts into laughter, nearly falling off the swing.

“You, sir, are utterly mad. Completely and unreservedly—well—mad! Who on earth are you?” she laughs out, her eyes sparkling with tears brought forth by her laughter.

He holds his arms out. “Are you not a lady of honor?” He asks. “Will you honor your word?”

Eloise scoffs “Good heavens, no, I would not do that. My mother would have an absolute fit if I were to ruin this dress. No thank you, sir. Enjoy your muddy escapades, if you must.”

“Fair but strange. Since when do you ever listen to your mother?” he asks.

Just as Eloise fixes her lips to reply, he wades in her direction, yanking her arm and, in an audible splash, pulls her in.

Eloise's tobacco stick is now just another lump in the mud as she gasps for breath. The man, unfazed, takes her clean hand into his tacky one and wraps his other arm around her waist. He begins to sway his hips in a slow deliberate manner.

Of course, Eloise has danced before–however reluctantly–sure. However, this dance feels…different. It is closer and she can actually feel his body against hers. Between whatever thick layer of mud separates them that is.

“I'm not much of a dancer sir–” Eloise attempts to pull away but the man grips her firmly, keeping her in place.

“Shh, I know,” The deep tremble of his voice resonates through his chest, sending vibrations that cascades in her, igniting a heat that courses down her body, settling in a place just below her waist.

“You don't have to be, just…” he brings her even closer and places his chin on top of her head. “just wade with me.” His words are almost a breath.

As the man's hand glides over her lower back, pulling her closer, Eloise feels a surprising relaxation wash over her. The usual stiffness that accompanies her during a dance melts away, replaced by an unexpected sense of ease. The warmth of his touch, the subtle pressure of his embrace, and the gentle sway of their bodies create a dance she finds herself genuinely enjoying. Further, the distant strings of the orchestra mixed with the soft calls of night bugs made the ordeal less ‘distracting’ and more peaceful to her.

“Are you finally having fun, miss?” the man asks.

She attempts to look up at him, as she can almost see a glimpse of his face underneath the gap in his mask. However, with a gentle but firm touch, he guides her head back down to rest against his chest.

“Shh, you do not have to speak. Give me a nod. Yes or no.”

There is something about this man—the way he instructs her with such gentle authority that makes her want to cooperate, to follow his lead willingly. Albeit for just this moment. Just as she is about to nod in agreement, a sudden realization strikes her. She jolts back, her every move sluggish in the mound of wet dirt.

“Wait,” her eyes narrow as she scans him. “You mentioned my mother earlier. Just how would you know that I don't listen to her?”

She reaches for his mask but just as she does, a bell sounds in the distance and it is clear that the masquerade is over. While she's distracted by the sudden commotion inside, the man exits the mud and disappears wherever he came from.

By the time she turns back to him he's gone. Eloise finds herself motionless, lost in confusion.

══════════════════ஓ๑♥๑ ═══════════════════

Love tap

“Eloise, that dress cost a fortune! I swear, I'm at my wit's end with you. I'll ask once more, and I expect a truthful answer this time. What on earth happened with you?”

Eloise sits brushing her now damp washed hair at her vanity. She shrugs. “To be honest, mother, I haven't the faintest idea myself.” Eloise admits, her voice heavy with resignation.

Violet grips the belted area just below her chest before throwing up a hand and shaking her head.

���I haven't time for this, Eloise. I need to speak with Benedict about pressing matters. For now, you will stay in your room until you can think of a proper explanation for how you managed to ruin that dress. Think about it—or, in your case, write about it, or whatever it is you do!” Violet nearly storms out of the room, making her way to Benedict's chambers.

“Write about it.” Eloise mumbles. She gazes through the window, pondering about the bizarre events of the night. Her eyes land on the carriage, just out front, realizing that her journal has been left inside.

She slips silently down the grand staircase, the polished marble slippery under her bare feet. As she eases the heavy door open, it lets out a faint squeak, but she holds her breath, ears straining for any sign of her mother's disturbance.

Outside, Footman John stands near the carriage door, likely waiting to be dismissed by her mother. As if on cue, he opens the door, allowing Eloise to leap inside and rummage through the compartments.

But the journal is nowhere to be found. It isn't until she exits the carriage does she notice that the journal is in footman John's white gloved hand. And oddly enough he bears a smirk.

“Ah, thank you, Footman John. Though you could have spared me the trouble—you let me rummage about for ages!” Eloise huffs, tapping her foot and crossing her arms. “Did you get some amusement out of my struggles?”

Eloise smacks him on the chest with the journal. Or at least she attempts to. Just as the journal makes contact with his chest, he seizes her wrist with a speed she certainly is not prepared for. Eloise is so shocked that she freezes in place, her breath catching in her throat. The footman then turns her hand, forcing the journal back toward her. With a soft tap, he uses her own hand to knock it, in the same manner, against her forehead.

She releases a gasp of surprise, her lips parting in silent shock.

“Apologies miss.” he states. “You seemed to have something upon your head. It appears to be a bit of dirt, though I feared it might be a bug.”

She doesn't appear to believe him as she shoots him a sneer. But before she can utter another remark he makes her tap herself gently again. Between her blinks of bewilderment, she notices that this time he's biting his bottom lip. His long dark lashess are locked on hers.

“Let me guess,” she manages, “yet another bug you mistook me for? Honestly, one would think you enjoy batting me away like this.”

She tries to finger his chest this time, but his reflexes are all too good, likely due to his training, and he's able to dodge quickly before returning back to center.

“Never Miss,” he states, his voice low and his shadow nearly eclipses hers as he towers over her. The world around them seems to fade into silent blur as his face comes into focus. His gaze never wavers from hers, the intensity in his eyes causes her body to stiffen rendering her motionless. “Furthermore, I am quite certain you can handle yourself, should anyone dare to test your resolve or discipline you in any manner. Even when that characteristically sharp tongue of yours gets you into trouble.”

He leans in closer, his breath warm against her ear. “I wouldn't let anyone bend you to their will like a…” his voice lowers impossibly more. “Like a disobedient child, meting out the punishment you might so desperately need.” His voice eases to a whisper. “But not I. I could never allow it.”

Eloise clears her throat. She swears in this instant the night's air has somehow grown hotter. Her throat dryer. His nearness… quite unsettling.

“Quite.” She takes the notebook with a sigh. “Thank you, Footman.”

He nods. As she steps inside, she pauses at the threshold, glancing back. He is staring off into the distance in his assigned position. She waves, and after a moment, he returns the gesture.

Back in her room, Eloise blows out a candle and peeks out the window, watching the footman once more. He is standing there, waiting to be dismissed by her mother. Here, she can spy on him without anyone noticing. Without ‘him’ noticing her. Here she can admire him the way she wanted to.

It's his words that haunt her and something about them makes her feel as if he weren't speaking in hypotheticals but instead speaking… directly to her. As if he had intent behind those words. As if he could do everything he warned her against.

She can't picture it. She can't picture him being serious. Him somehow managing to do everything he has just warned her about. And most of all, to enjoy it as much as it nearly sounded in his tone.

No, a footman is meant to protect her. Especially John. That was what he had stated had he not? Eloise figures perhaps she is thinking too much into it. This whole day has been very strange. And as much as she tries to brush it off, she had trouble sleeping that night.

Until their next encounter.

[fkyumerica]

they tried to make me a garbage mexican

how fast do they swing

that time together

then theyre in at the bar

back is the queers, right front more bisexuals when they  it, families on left

and queers, any age i am their age hi

and sex too whoa were the same

and when the boy stomped off stage they went right and attacked to left

no and me

1:40

notice the crows at the right after

nuts crowd

strongerrr

she was the gayest wife

i dont want her i want to take care of the kids

then them gay

i will take care of you all

when they invaded

it never happened yet

at us

gays around us

then insane since

them

and no its you

to all of them

i mean they outnumbered us

by 10s

each family

holy crap you do what you want

and one says it

each fucking time

where do they attack

with a young one

or shes it

saw one

gay eyed through window to another queer

mom

mexicans their pedophile kids

stayed short for it

and dumped mom

hey dad

if a female is going

and shes always in the car

i gay let it out

shit

come in

and cum smell in the doorway of a house

and shit cum in doorway of a hut

and underground, leeches

in cum

oh no!

it was really dirty songs and was them

put it in her ass

always singing it

whoa

and them too their sons

keyboard

my cock feed her

rooster

the blow up doll was it

and i want her

their fuckign dream date

any height

kid

one word

nemo

shake

why

he was vince mcmahons dad

then mary

what

her mom is his thing in the video

he said

and he is james corbin

how old too wtf

50 when they had them

then 65

mary

inbred

to him

they kept having a gay island and she come over and hop

i sit down and have another one

same outfit

shit on ass

looked like shorts with the hair

tutu

men had boxers

of shit

and hair

and a smoke line right

coming out but being in the woods

island

it made one haha

bed

sprout

wee

water bed store

then shopping complex

then

to mexican store

lincoln park

by fort st

fake the rest

their family did it

kept building too

and if his dad sees dirt near houses

he road paves it all together

saying he can come in and fuck them all

scare crow

disney world

gayy

charles lee ray again

whoa

we inbred too

let him do what he likes

they are all that

and his family

the rest

sank

and might of got together by now

who who

and a group together

are inbreds

mated before marilyn manson

crypto

even at 5

and pedophiles

blow her up

dress on her

i wanna see the gay

john wayne gacy

oh no

their spook

micky and minnie scared

that was it

dope

tko in dope water

and

black again

shit on them

Thu 7:28 PM

he stole the deed, that shit was made up then too, paper work

my dad ddid

owns the place

one beer fight

wtf

who gets jo

weird shit

come on down

they were

older

than greg

it is fucking weird

90000 hockey players nodding after i said something

again

cooters

again

jimmy was rickys dad and looked really fucking gay

it was jos family

what is he looking at

agnes the insane bitch

angela see i told ya

penny sent her at me

no do it to penny she had kids

cut off my hair instead

penny married gay

i didnt

and she went insane

agnes did

at soccer

i dunno what this is

the back of my hair was cut off

4th grade photo

new dyke style

and kept doing it to everyone

then it was all women gay talking like space ghost

brak show

and

mantis

cells family

dbz

ryan/chad/android 17/marilyn manson

yea do it

wtf

he was messing around with posh spice

sit down

we can make school happen

he could of been alix's dad with cheryl

police officer instead of biker

and choo choo the son needs to hook his caboose onto them and go with them after

and make it it again

mexican

kill out and destroy lincoln park housing

and the wild

then

missle blow up house party all the big housing things

kane

that plan went better then too

and here toot toot i dunno boats

youre gonna let kevin live?

said he is his dad

cowboy boots

they killed trunks instead

of dikes

and their family

inbred cell

of the area

cut open angela with the scissors

after grabbing her

she is my mom carrie said she wanted to marry her

carrie is any gay

it was retard talk

call

and they would always go over to it

what you say

if they didnt do it to me they did it to her

cut off her hair

and she hid had a kid

with her mom went gay with her mom was in the truck too

is erin burna

tried to hide around me in a video

nooo

we found another mallory

and jim

chris

your gay free daughter heather

is dead

4:25

and keri ann

diner gal

no you dont serve us

she said we can fuck her boyfriend next

not together

fuck

then they live next door

giving birth now told us to do it i wont stop

retard cant be raised either

bad generation

they all die

and they mate again too their parentss

and in house bar she did it

filled america

wtf eww

norman rockwell painting

holidays

work em too

did not shut up either

anywhere

with all of them

invading

everywhere since

and the crowd behind her only the blacks are her family

they bleached her oh they want her this hot shit

what is it

didnt know either

that many

they sprayed after

to look like her

woops

you are kidding

new kids group huh

no

they will be nicer

no

and cant walk in

no

they didnt have a key either

he fucked up

when i get knocked out i give it away

-trunks

fell down in love to fuck it from the back he's gay and they monkey shriek say it

that her husband

yea a jim

i wore freds hair, he was dead too

live aid woodstock, watched his dad die, his hair fell and curled

then his family saw it in my mouth

and cried

well lets do hers

meant sex

stephanie mcmahon was selena

i got her to sit front row

and shot her

keep asking me for more the guy said

her dad

and the guy with the camera in the daughter photo

is him

yea get hot baby

her entire life

gwen stefani

named her to shoot her in prison

didnt care

do it

to blow up the rest

then in boats

with their dad again

dead

ghost

that was the boat before black

you keep getting prettier then bleach them

then

get to be alone

with him

who

loved you the most

say it or

leave

keeps getting darker each generation

she dated

and goes with

in a car

every time

is this

no

yes yes yes

to more drugs after

and angela got cut

to

fool you too

leon

where

and before the boat inbreed

do weirder shit

then bleach

show it

wont die

gwen stefani

jewels

everything

then leave

without the tounge ring

fill it fill it i dunno feed her

fake ass fat suit

whose he

leave

leave it too

fat suit

is it he

it smells like piss

they are all outside for this to happen again

she got out of the cars

18 of her

and are pissing themselves

making this moment happen again

at gas stations

outside

then car ride

to the next to the next to the next

to get together

and have to have a child together now

and raise it with them

to import

alcohol

and reign supremee some day

said it

i might sell this soem day with a truck

and i dont care

and have 800 kids that defy 1,000

and this when the infants meet and are born too

baboo said no

one

and men come out

yea

no no no look out

pass the boat over

gravy

we're leaving

hot

gotta fuck outside again

fora child and money from her

we made it up

we screaming won something

into the mouth of the other women too

she is screaming

to hide it

another piercing

abortion

in her ass

this time

to shake the cheeks

going gay made hotter shit for them to do apparently

now all learn it

is this all the demon shit was

india

go around again

inbreed

then back

up

try and live

and do it again everyday till you look pissed off

and forget

do drugs to forget

and the new wives hot

and leave with drugs this time

then steal next

jessica

for who

leave him outside

it happened people

living in cars

boats

train rides

gay

they did it

filder basket

money

expected a punch

choke slam

she got lipo

fred died

shaved head

the rock

is her

and she gay put a lot to sleep

angela

we are kids now

what

got em drunk

dad live

wtf whoa

all i do is find sean again or something

and i dunno ryan eat

Thu 8:25 PM

tell me when there is wrestling again

with the older stars

and i will go

i dont remember how

Thu 8:40 PM

shit came off the ground again

they kept pumping their own fetus in them and they were the men

giants

to stand up still

and awake

last one had to live with people

carol

women still went and loved them

and gave up everyone

older age and inbre

d

crypto

were it

guys go on fours after they do drugs

the pebble said it

gave shirts to who

i dunno dons

names of women who would walk in bikini, under wear, and naked, and fuck in the woods then too names were taken down, this is one of their sons

were wild woo i can do what i want

i fuck up your life

i would show you her too

his mom is black

they went white then

would put his dick in his dad

and id unno on the ground

some are white

Thu 9:08 PM

those stomach guys

stare and they say see she he uses its power to live

off dope now

got up

now go attack

sasquatch shit

and the old

their inbred family

so they get up and forget

those guys huge guts

and those gwen stefanis hand them guns

they gave them their hair done

free college to the old

then they go right

our kids had kids then

4ft didnt leave him

constant head

oral

looked 16 tight

right

no 7

chad

said

was 18

then

problem? and him too

paul

lets ssteal the church too and all the money

his dad sting was proud

and smaller

cane

kane

fake football and all

leon was his wifes dad, ryans wife

and

gay here too

your dad too right

then no

we dont date

what about me adn my dad

and they said they stole it all for everything in their families

houses

food

wtf yea us alive

and we dont care how you raise us were people too

and yea he can jizz it out

where ever

glossom

Thu 10:23 PM

lh3.googleusercontent.com

oh hell yea

1:06 PM

shoot the dogs

mick foley

i shot 120,000 beagles in one day

and abbies

are you bringing them over

they ruined the houses

shit in the basement

bodies too didnt throw in truck when it was there

and stole too

fake judge

flooded with shit

black mold

appliances still plugged in

and electricity s

why are you saying yes

you people are disgusting

you dont go out after you have sex

penny did

you look like whores

you do the surgeries too to hide the infants

no she cant live

take what

river

fuckers

there she is fucking bradley

no you dont go past my house to fuck it near me to look like me

you said what to her

go in my house

no no

you dont

either

tom

hey tom

look

your daaughter

fucking him too

pregnant on drugs

all wrong

gave her permission to what

[sarcasticdolphin]

Smrtolf (Canon) "Birdbath"

For the amazing @adridoesstuff as all the Smrtolf drabbles are.

Smrtolf=Todolf from the Czech production.

Set in the summer of 1888. This one is soft and gentle fluff :)

It’s a warm day in late summer - one that Rudolf should probably be spending indoors, sweating in his uniform as he goes through the endless pages of diplomatic communication his father so often assigns him.

But in this he is a less than diligent son. Rudolf had gone through some of the paperwork in the morning, but as the morning had faded into the afternoon he’d surreptitiously slipped out one of the side doors at Mayerling with a small set of paints and sketching materials.

Mayerling doesn’t really have gardens like the grand palaces of Vienna do, but there is part of the forest close to the hunting lodge that is less wild. Still very much the domain of nature, but not the dark forest that is full of brambles.

The tree - a large one, with a trunk at just the right angle to recline against and with roots that serve quite well as make-shift shelves - is waiting just where Rudolf knows it will be.

There are already a few angels milling about, and as Rudolf sits back against the tree and carefully examines a few of the trees he sees more amongst the branches. Perhaps a dozen in all.

A familiar chirp comes from just beside him and Rudolf is smiling as he gives Aemilia an affectionate scratch. She hops into his lap and snuggles into his arms.

“Aemilia.” 

She gives him another chirp.

The tree is on the edge of what might be a meadow - the grass is green and soft at this time of year. It almost seems like it might have come from a painting, so perfect is the scene. 

Rudolf had a trio of birdbaths placed among the eaves of the trees the previous year - for the flock, but also for the wild songbirds and crows that frequent these woods. The birdbaths themselves had been gifts - though perhaps that is being generous. They were ornately carved white marble and had originally been gifted to his mother. To Rudolf they were more her cast-offs.

Still, they were beautiful, and Rudolf had ordered them placed in his little meadow.

Aemilia steps out of Rudolf’s lap before taking her more human form. In the warmth of the afternoon her jacket is gone and she’s left in a loose black dress. The style is simple and classical - nothing like the ornate court gowns that Rudolf sees the women of his father’s court don.

His own clothes are the mirror of hers - Rudolf detests the military jackets that are his duty in summer more than anything else, and the jacket had been left in a haphazard pile on the floor of his bedchamber. He would need to make sure that Edwin didn’t destroy it - unlike his shirts, Rudolf’s supply of jackets was not quite infinite.

The shirt he had donned is a very thin one - fine material, and lighter than air. It didn’t hide much. The loose pants - technically sleep pants - are a slightly thicker material, and Rudolf had left his military boots with the jacket in his hunting lodge.

The grass was soft and cool at this time of year. It was nice to let his poor toes free for once.

Aemilia sprawls across Rudolf’s lap, her head resting on his thigh, and smiles up at him.

“Less thinking, more painting.”

Rudolf smiles at that. “As my lady commands.” He rolls his eyes and glances around.

One of the birdbaths is illuminated in the afternoon sun, the marble its true brilliant white, streaked only by faint hints of gray. Rudolf starts to sketch the scene - the birdbath. The trees beyond it and the grass beneath it.

Slowly the world grows - the leaves upon the trees. The flowers amongst the grass. Rudolf muses on what to put in the birdbath itself. Songbirds? He glances around. There is a small group of angels playing, but the songbirds must be snoozing or avoiding the rambunctious group of crows and ravens. One of Smrt’s angels, then.

Rudolf surveys the group. Aemilia isn’t really snoozing in his lap - more resting her eyes - but he won’t disturb her. The others are more crows, though Rudolf spies a raven that he knows to be Anna. But it is Edwin’s pied crow that catches eye, and his lips quirk up. There are times when Rudolf imagines himself a classical painter, but now, even surrounded by idyllic paradise as he is, is not one one of those times.

Edwin even obliged by hopping up to the birdbath and splashing the water around. Rudolf found his hands dancing quickly over the page, taking in the crow as he sat in the birdbath and committing the image to the page.

He glances down to find AEmilia’s eyes open, and her gaze trained on the birdbath and its occupant.

“Sometimes I think it’s better when he’s noisy. Then I know what he’s up to.” She lets her eyes relax again.

Rudolf smiles. “Indeed.” When it comes to Edwin, silence is undoubtable his most terrifying sound.

“Though-” Aemilia sits up and stretches. “I find myself wanting a bath as well.” She’s in her raven form a moment later, fluttering up to the birdbath.

Edwin gives a chirp and hops out, quickly finding a particularly offensive blade of grass to destroy, as Aemilia daintily ruffles her feathers in the bath.

Rudolf sketches quickly - he hadn’t painted much at all, just mixing a few color samples so he can remember for later. As he does so he sees the pinfeather, very well hidden amongst the small feathers of Aemilia’s back.

And so the prince gets to his feet, stretching as he does, and makes his way over to the birdbath. A gentle cool breeze washes over him as he does.

The water that comes flying his way is entirely unexpected, and Rudolf gasps as the chill.

“Aemilia! You-” he exhales. His shirt hadn’t hidden all that much when it was dry - the material was that thin - and now, soaked as it was, it hid nothing at all. Rudolf might as well have been half-naked.

The chill settles a moment later, and Rudolf finds himself smiling as he turns. Smrt is leaning against the tree.

“My Prince.” There is music in Smrt’s voice.

“My friend.” Rudolf smiles before giving Aemilia a glare. She’s back in her more human form, grinning as she leans against the birdbath. “I think rascal might not be a strong enough word.” 

Smrt only smiles. “Oh?” He makes a small gesture with his fingers and Aemilia is at his side a moment later, her raven form melting into her human one. Smrt presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Perhaps a rascal, but certainly my favorite rascal.” Aemilia tucks herself into his side.

Rudolf shrugs his shirt off and they rest together beneath the tree, watching the flock in the meadow as Aemilia rests with her head on Rudolf’s thigh and her dainty feet in Smrt’s lap. Rudolf hadn’t even noticed that she was barefoot too instead of in the soft boots she normally wore.

[griseldabanks]

Setting down his goblet of water and picking up his sword again, Shard called, “Come on, Shynael. Let's go home.”

Shynael looked up from where he'd been playfully sneaking up on a crow that had flown into the sparring arena and started preening itself. When Shynael stretched luxuriously and trotted over to meet Shard halfway, the crow let out a hoarse croak and flapped away. They were the only ones left in the sparring arena; Glaive and Gyvael had left as soon as the lesson was over, but Shard needed to catch his breath, so they'd hung back.

As Shard buckled his sword around his waist again and swung himself up onto Shynael's back, he finally realized the word he'd used. Home. He actually thought of the Ambassadors' headquarters as home.

Holding onto one of Shynael's spikes with both hands and squeezing his neck with his knees as Vannasai had been teaching him, Shard braced himself for the breathtaking leap into the air. Shynael's huge wings beat the air, putting the crow's black wings to shame as he leapt into the air and broke through the branches of trees creating a canopy over the arena.

Shynael leveled off once he'd crested the tops of the trees. The whizz-whoosh of his wings and the howl of wind in Shard's ears was loud enough to make it difficult to carry on a conversation, but neither of them minded the silence after another long, exhausting day.

As the the tallest tree in the forest drew closer and closer, Shard wondered when exactly this place had begun to feel like home. He'd lived his whole life in the same small village, only occasionally making the trip to the next town over with a farmer's family so he could pick up paper and ink for Father Mark. That had been the only home he'd known, and he'd never stopped to wonder what it would be like to leave it, because he'd assumed he would live out the rest of his days in the same chapel where he'd grown up, and then be buried in the graveyard behind it.

But then Shynael had changed all of that, and he was thrown out into the world. He'd wondered if he would ever feel like he belonged again.

Shynael dove through the branches of the tree that housed the Ambassador headquarters with the familiarity of someone who flew this route every day. Green leaves brushed against them on all sides, not even a twig snapping at Shynael's passing. In moments, the stone amphitheater-like structure they called home came into sight, nestled amongst the enormous branches of the great tree. Shynael landed lightly in the center of the courtyard at the bottom, well away from the long wooden tables off to one side where they took their meals.

Glaive emerged from the cave-liked opening that led to the baths, raising a hand in greeting as he made his way to his room. Shard waved back. A bath sounded good. Soaking away the aches and pains of the day....

But he stayed on Shynael's back as his dragon hopped up two tiers of the bowl-like structure, till they reached their room on the top level. These rooms were smaller, more fitting for a dragon of his size. Shard slid down to the ground when they reached the cave-like doorway, and they walked in together.

Perhaps if he hadn't been thinking about home, he wouldn't have noticed the way his shoulders instantly relaxed as soon as he set foot in their room. The bedchamber that had once seemed so vast and cavernous, with its wardrobe full of rich clothes and its enormous four-poster bed with a quilted green bedspread, now felt as cozy and familiar as the little room at the back of the chapel he used to share with Father Mark.

Unfastening the pieces of his armor and setting them down on the trunk at the foot of his bed, Shard glanced across at Shynael, who delicately pinched a log of wood between his foreclaws and set it in the fireplace, before blowing a narrow stream of fire onto it, until the wood caught the blaze. Ever since he'd gotten the knack of breathing fire, it was his favorite task.

Shynael looked over his shoulder at him. “What?”

Realizing he'd been staring, Shard quickly bent to unfasten his greaves instead. “Nothing, just...you wouldn't be doing this if not for me.”

“What, making a fire?” Shynael snorted, sitting on his haunches and curling his tail around his feet. “'Course not! You wouldn't either, if you had fire in your veins like us dragons.”

“Yes, but I mean....” Shard dropped his greaves on top of the pile of his armor, frowning as he tried to put his thoughts into words. “Neither of us would be here without the other, would we? Living here. Calling this place our home. I'd be back in the village...you'd be with your mother somewhere....”

Shynael cocked his head to one side. “Sometimes I wonder where she was from. It would be nice to at least be able to visit, you know?”

A cold finger seemed to slide down his spine. “If we found out where that was...would you want to live there instead?”

Would it even work for a human to live somewhere in the dragon kingdom other than this small no-man's land carved out for the Ambassadors? Shard knew no human town would put up with a dragon living in their midst, and he had to assume it would be the same for dragons.

“No,” Shynael said thoughtfully. “I like it here. You know when we had that audience with the Dragon King? Everybody was looking at us strange—even at us dragons. I guess we don't really act like most dragons, carrying humans on our backs and living with you and everything. But nobody looks at us strange here, because everybody's like us. This is where we belong.”

A slow smile found its way onto Shard's face. “Yes...I think you're right.”

The Chesterton Challenge: Day 25

Welcome to Day 25 of the Chesterton Challenge! If you haven’t already, make sure to check out the creations linked in the notes of yesterday’s post.

Today’s Optional Prompt is: Home

Chesterton's work is full of appreciation for the comforts of home, and he advocated for the virtues of caring for home and appreciating the land you come from. You can create something based on the general concept of home, be inspired by something from your home, or just plain create something while at home. Interpret the prompt however you'd like!

Whatever you create, make sure to show us or tell us about it by reblogging or replying to this post. (Don’t forget: anyone is allowed to join in the fun at any point during the Challenge.)

Now go forth and create!

[bordemm]

𝑉𝐴𝑁𝐼𝑇𝑌 (𝐷𝐴𝐼𝐶𝐻𝐼 𝑆𝐴𝑊𝐴𝑀𝑈𝑅𝐴)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴅɪʟғ! ᴅᴀɪᴄʜɪ, ᴀɢᴇ ɢᴀᴘ (ᴅᴀɪᴄʜɪ ɪs 42 ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪs 19), ᴘʀᴀɪsᴇ? ᴍɪʟᴅ ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴅɪɴɢ, ʙʀᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ, ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇs(ᴀɴɢᴇʟ,ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴏɴᴇ) ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ ᴋɪɴᴋ, ʜᴀʀᴅʟʏ ᴇᴅɪᴛᴇᴅ ʟᴍᴋ ɪғ ɪ ᴍɪssᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏ

ᴅᴀɪᴄʜɪ x ғᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴀsᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏᴄᴀʟ ʜᴏᴍᴇ ᴅᴇᴘᴏᴛ ᴅɪʟғ ғᴏʀ ʜᴇʟᴘ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2,084

ɴsғᴡ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜᴛ

You slipped out of your car, locking it with a final beep as you made your way to the entrance of the home depot. You pulled out your phone, staring intently at the wiki how in front of you, the instruction in big, bold letters.

‘How to build your own vanity

It should be simple enough. Frankly, you weren’t in any position to buy yourself a vanity, so you settled for the next best thing, building it yourself. You gazed up at the aisle names looking for the right one. You knew how out of place you looked here. If your tiny little skirt and even smaller shirt weren’t a sign you had no idea what you were doing, the confused look on your face was more than enough to let the others around you know. You walked down the lumber aisle, dwarfing under the tall shelves as you look for a 4x4 plank of wood. What the fuck was a 4x4? You bit your lip, bending forward to get a closer look at all the names on the items on the self, trying to figure it out yourself, too stubborn and hardheaded to ask for help.

Daichi walked down the aisle, his eyes meeting your hunched-over body as your big innocent eyes scanned the shelves. You looked...confused, and well, Daichi is a nice man, and what kind of man would he be if he let a sweet little thing like you wander around this giant store confused.

“Excuse ma’am, do you need help?” he asked, making you jolt a little, gazing up at the man in front of you. He was big. His muscles were strained under the tight material of his black shirt. The veins in his arms bulging under his skin. His broad shoulders hid you from the view of anyone that would walk down this aisle.

“O-oh, I am, yes, please,” you confessed with a defeated sigh making the older man chuckled as he ran a big hand through his hair, the snow grey hair peeking out at the roots.

“Alright then, what are you trying to do?” he asked, towering behind you, looking at the same shelves with a small smile.

“I’m trying to build my own vanity,” you said, pulling out your phone showing him the website that gave you all the materials and instructions that you would need to make it. He nodded in understanding before pulling his cart towards you two putting wood in there.

As you two gathered all the materials needed to make your own vanity you made idle chit chat, you came to learn a lot about the older man, he was a single divorced father with a 16-year-old son, three years younger than you.

“Not to be rude Mister but how old are you?” you asked as you two walked side by side in the isle

“42” he said and you simply nodded slowly ignoring the way your cunt was drooling at the older man, he was sweet and so polite. He had crows feet and deep smile lines around his lips, he didn’t look 42, but you could tell he is definitely older.

Daichi saw the way you were looking at him. Saw how your mouth practically water every time he would reach up to grab something, your eyes flying down to gawk at his happy trail. He couldn’t deny you were pretty so sweet and shy listening intently to all the tips he was giving you on how you could build this little vanity and even offering to come over and build it for you, it was his ex-wife’s week to watch their daughter so he had nothing better to do than to build a pretty young girls vanity.

As you two made your way to the check out you began to bounce your foot nervously as you watched the numbers climb up, Daichi noticed your demeanor a small smile coming across his face before he turned to you.

“Hey sweetheart, I forgot something you mind running and getting the staples sweet thing?” he asked, flashing you his pearly white smile, your face grew hot at the pet names nodding shyly and running off to go get the staples. Daichi quickly scanned the rest of the items putting the card into the machine and paying for everything.

You scurried back to the older man holding out a box of… nails?

“i -i couldn’t find staples so i thought nails?” you confessed your cheeks burning up only making Daichi let out a loud belly laughing shaking his head. A big hand came down, ruffling your hair before he made his way to the exit pushing the cart in front of him.

“Hey, I have to pay for all that stuff!” you said, trailing behind Daichi looking concerned making him laugh and put you in front of the cart him pushing it behind you, your backflushed against his chest.

“Don’t worry about it sweet girl, I got it covered” he said looking around the parking lot

“Which is your car?” he asked, prompting you to point over to your little car that can barely even fit your groceries in, bold of you to assume that it would fit all these supplies.

“Little one, i hate to break it to you but that is not going to all fit in there” he says pushing the cart further down the parking lot before stopping in front of a large white f-150.

“I throw all this stuff in my truck and then just follow you back to your apartment, how does that sound?” he said, leaning back against the truck, you only nodded and began helping him throw everything in the trunk.

“Here get in the trunk I’ll pass you the stuff,” Daichi says lifting you from under the arms and putting you in the trunk, while doing so he got a peek at your pretty pink panties and the wet spot forming in them making his cock strain in his pants.

Thank you for helping me again, mister,” you said as you began to load everything into the trunk.

“Don’t mention little one,” he said, handing you the last can of paint. He held his arms out to you to help you come down which you happily accepted. He set you down on the ground where you instructed him to just follow you on your way back home.

You pulled into your apartment complex parking in your designated spot, Daichi right next to you. Shutting off your car you got out walking towards Daichi who was already heading your direction.

“Come in, sit for a second. We don’t have to get started, right away,” you said, taking Daichi’s hand and leading him up the stairs to your apartment.

He walked in, smiling a little, it was so yo. The decor, the furniture, the smell, everything screamed you.

“I can show you where I wanted to put the vanity,” you say, guiding him back to your room. Flopping down on your bed, ignoring the way your skirt rode up or the way your nipples pebbled under your shirt once you entered the cold room.

“Right there,” you said, pointing to the far wall in your room, Daichi snapping his head to look in that direction.

“Hmm i don’t know if it will fit love, it’s pretty big and that such a tight spot, it’s gonna be a squeeze” he said, his words sending heat to your cunt you cleared your throat smiling up at him pressing your thighs together.

“I’m pretty good at making things fit, nothing ever too big,” you said your voice becoming smaller and softer making Daichi bite his lip

“Yeah baby? Can you make anything fit?” he asked, taking your hand and putting it over his hard throbbing cock. Your eyes widening at the sheer girth of him before sheepishly nodding your head.

“I can make it fit daddy, promise,” you said, the name rolling off your tongue like sin. Daichi let out a groan pushing you down on the mattress crashing his lips into yours.

“Fuck your gonna make it fit aren’t you pretty girl? Because that’s what good little girls do,” he said as you nodded, bucking your hips in the air desperately.

“Yeah I’m gonna take it all!” you promised with a whine, your manicured hand gripping his shoulders as grounded his cock against your panty-clad cunt.

“Fuck baby I don’t know if i can wait. I need you now” he growled in your ear ripping your panties off a pained cry escaping your lips,

“Daddy, please please, I can take it no prep, see?” you said, scooching up the bed, opening your legs showing him your glistening cunt, a groan leaving his throat.

“Fuck baby, you’re so wet, bet I could slide right in, hmm?” he asked, pulling off clothes feverishly before slotting himself between your legs bunching your skirt up around your hips. His cock rested heavy against your cunt as your lips bowed around his cock that was nestled between them, his tip bumping your clit.

“D-daddy can’t wait. Want it now” you whined, bucking your hips trying to coax his cock into your awaiting hole.

“I know I know m gonna give it to you” he said, pulling his hips back a little before popping the tip of his fat cock into your quivering hole.

“Daddy!” you squealed, feeling him stretch and open your walls up more than ever before his eyes trained on the way your cunt is sucking him in more.

“Fuck angel, you make me so fucking good, your so tight, a-are you a virgin” he asks confused on how you can be this fucking tight.

“N-no daddy! Your just too big” you whine your head rolling back as he sinks into you more and more, inch by inch until he bottoms out.

“Fuck this pussy is too fucking good, baby,” he said, pulling his hips back slamming them into you a loud, wet slap, ripping a scream from your throat. Daichi took that scream as an incentive to start moving.

His cock dragged and bumped your walls with accuracy that you think only comes with age. The way every vein in his cock was hitting every spot inside of you that made your legs shake was enough for him to drop his head down whispering filthy praises in your ear

“Fuck baby you milk my cock so well”

“You were made to take my cock weren’t you?”

“Fuck angel you’re so wet, you like this don’t you, getting off on fucking guys twice your age baby?” he questions as his cock hits the deepest parts of you. His tip is hitting your cervix so hard you’re scared he might breach and cum directly into your womb. You lock your legs around his lower back, your heels digging into him in an attempt to get him even deeper into your already battered cunt. The way your tongue lulls out of your mouth and your pretty tits bounce under your shirt have daichi’s fat heavy balls aching as the primal instinct to breed you, to mark you in the lewdest way possible, comes over him.

The feeling has him pounding into you even harder. The rhythmic slap of skin against skin and the squelching of your pussy fill the room, making your cheeks flush in embarrassment at the sound.

“D-daddy! Too deep!” you exclaim, tears of pleasure welling in your eyes as he hammers into you.

“Fuck, not deep enough baby, gotta get deeper if I’m gonna breed this little cunt” he pants breathlessly from above you. The mention of him cumming inside you has your cunt clamping down around his shaft, your walls sucking him in more in an attempt to milk him dry.

“Oh fuck, you like that baby? Like the thought of being my pretty little breeding bitch baby?” he questions, his thrusts becoming sloppy and irregular.

“Y-yes, daddy! Please please cum inside of me, please stuff me full!” you squeal as you thrash under him cumming your pussy, holding on to him with a vice grip.

Daichi bites his lip, focusing his attention on moving against the resistance of your walls. His thrusts become sloppy as he presses his hips flush against yours, his cum spurting out, painting your walls white.

“Thank you, daddy,” you whine, feeling his warm cum swirl in your womb. He chuckles, rearing his hips back again, slamming into you.

“I’m not done”

tagged: @koutaroucutie @introloves

[swanimagines]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a Kaz Brekker x Reader and the reader is grisha, but either shadow or sun summoner (you chose 🥰) running away from General Kirigan and Kaz saves her.

THE FREDDY EVENT HAS ENDED! Thank you everyone who requested during it! Freddy's characters preferences and requests for Jason, Tom and Ellis will stay open as I promised, they weren't exclusive to the event.

The Kaz taglist will apply for the remainder of content which came during the event, but after that it won't be used anymore and Kaz pieces will have the general Netflix show Shadow and Bone taglist, which contains the rest of the Crows, Alina, Mal, Genya, Darkling etc. You can apply to that if you want to catch the post-event requested Kaz pieces too!

A/N: Made her a Sun Summoner since a Shadow Summoner kinda implies she's Kirigan's sister or something and I didn't know how to put that into the fic. She kinda "replaces" Alina in this, but the story obviously doesn't go as it goes in the show, she doesn't have her dialogue etc, don't worry. Only things identical are that Darkling/Kirigan has tried to manipulate her and she escapes in the trunk of a carriage. Also the "saving" part is actually just one scene as I don't believe Kaz would meet someone and promptly save them without gaining profit, but you can imagine their relationship growing rapidly from that.

Warnings: Mentions of manipulation and betrayal + a consented kidnapping? Also not happy with this at all but I have no idea what to alter or fix.

Word count: 802

When you learned that your lover is actually just taking advantage of you, you chose to run. You had hid at the back of a carriage and slept there until the carriage came to a stop, and were met with three people standing outside of the carriage - you recognized two of them as guards back at the palace from the previous day, but the third you hadn't seen. They had told you they have a way out of Ravka, and you knew exactly what they had in mind - they had made a deal with someone to hand you over.

Your brains had told you to run, blind them with your powers and run to the woods, and maybe you were stupid when you didn't listen to your brains. Maybe you just wanted to rest for a moment after running away and the heartbreak you had just gone through, or maybe you were just simply losing your mind. But you agreed to go with them willingly, and you had settled to rest at the tavern for a while as you prepared to leave at sunrise the next morning.

Surprisingly, you had good time with them, even laughing at some jokes and the Zemeni man, Jesper, even flirted with you a little. Even the gloomy man with a cane, Kaz, gave you a vibe of him enjoying your company somewhat.

But of course, Aleksander had come after you, somehow locating the area where you were and you had to run again.

You went outside and were immediately met by patrolling Grisha, them attacking you. And before you could do anything, Kaz jabbed you with his cane, gesturing you to come with him and you obliged, though you noticed Zoya following you soon.

"Keep walking, don't look back," Kaz gruffed, and you obliged. Soon you had lost Zoya into the crowd, but instead you came to meet with the Heretic himself. Aleksander smiled fondly as he saw you, but then laid a death glare on Kaz.

"Hand her over," he growled, but Kaz didn't move. "I said. Hand. Her. Over."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," you scoffed back, and his eyes widened for a moment in shock before they narrowed.

"What? But this man and his—"

"No," you interrupted. "I fled on my own, and agreed to go with them."

Aleksander let out a disbelieving scoff. "You do know they're going to sell you?"

"Of course I do," you rolled your eyes. "I'm not stupid. But anywhere is better than with you."

Aleksander's eyes jumped between you and Kaz for a moment, and you saw Kaz held something in his hand. You met his eyes briefly, and then Aleksander's eyes had darkened again.

"If this is how it's going to be, then I have no choice but to take you by force." he growled, and you saw he was forming the cut. But in a split second, you both had disappeared into a blast and smoke, and walking quickly into the meeting point at the fountain.

---

"Wait, hold up, you were on a showdown with the Black Heretic?" Jesper exclaimed once you had explained what took so long to him. "And she knows we're planning on selling her to Dreesen?" Jesper was looking at you with wide eyes. "And she's okay with that?"

You shrugged. "Can't be worse than be the Heretic's prisoner."

Kaz cleared his throat. "Doesn't matter right now. We have to get to Arken's train, get to Os Kervo and smuggle her to Ketterdam unnoticed. Her face will be spread around in posters soon, so we cant be here for long anymore."

Then he walked a little further, inspecting his surroundings, leaving you stare after him. Jesper squinted at you.

"What happened in there?" he asked, and you turned to look at him. "And why- how are you okay with us basically kidnapping you?"

"I don't want to go back," you admitted. "And... I owe you guys now. I owe to Kaz." You glanced at Kaz again before lowering your head.

"How so?"

You looked up at the Zemeni again and took a deep breath.

"Because… he saved me back there. He could have died because of it."

Jesper frowned even deeper, looked over at Kaz, then at you as to wordlessly confirming it, but you just nodded and he then let out a disbelieving laugh and ran his hand over his hair.

"Kaz Brekker, that man right there, saved you and put his own life in line by doing so?" he asked, and you nodded again. "Wow. Something is definitely up, something he hasn't told me and Inej. More money from Dreesen maybe?"

You frowned at him, but he shut up and you were left wondering an impossible thing... could they maybe change their plans about selling you after all?

---

Tags: @scandalous-chaos @brekkers-desigirl @bb-skyrunner @ellora-brekker @hanabihwa @animalistic0 @story-scribbler @lovemenotplz @writingmysanity @directioner5life @thevipers-world @imaginesfire // send in an ask to be added, and specify which of Freddy's characters do you want to be tagged on! (This taglist is for Freddy event only, I won't take character taglists for anyone else than Freddy's characters. And note: after the event, Kaz pieces will get the full SaB taglist again, this taglist applies only during this event) ALSO IF YOU WON’T INTERACT BEYOND LIKING, I’LL EVENTUALLY TAKE YOU OFF THE LIST!!

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ASOS: Jon IV (Chapter 30)

Ghost was gone when the wildings led their horses from the cave.

Aw, looks like Jon declined that lifetime cave invitation.

+.+.+

Once brothers in black had gone out every day with axes to cut back the encroaching trees, but those days were long past, and here the forest grew right up to the ice.

Getting any ideas yet, lumber baron?

+.+.+

The closer they got, the more the Thenns held back. They have never seen the Wall before, not even the Magnar, Jon realized. It frightens them. In the Seven Kingdoms it was said that the Wall marked the end of the world. That is true for them as well. It was all in where you stood.

But what about the curtain?

+.+.+

And where do I stand? Jon did not know. To stay with Ygritte, he would need to become a wildling heart and soul. If he abandoned her to return to his duty, the Magnar might cut her heart out. And if he took her with him . . . assuming she would go, which was far from certain . . . well, he could scarcely bring her back to Castle Black to live among the brothers. A deserter and a wildling could expect no welcome anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms. We could go look for Gendel's children, I suppose. Though they'd be more like to eat us than to take us in.

He'll answer his own question several times in this chapter.

+.+.+

"Mance promises swords for every man of the first team to reach the top," he told them, his breath misting in the cold air. "Southron swords of castle-forged steel. And your name in the song he'll make of this, that too. What more could a free man ask? Up, and the Others take the hindmost!"

The Others take them all, thought Jon, as he watched them scramble up the steep slope of the ridge and vanish beneath the trees.

One of these days I'm going to march my butt over to https://asearchoficeandfire.com/, search 'the Others take', and verify whether or not it foreshadows the death of the person that says it, or the person (people) it's being directed to.

Today is not that day.

(This is my subtle way of encouraging one of you to do it.)

+.+.+

But in between the only way to defeat the Wall was to go over it, and many a raider had. Fewer come back, though, he thought with a certain grim pride.

And where do I stand?

+.+.+

The other wildlings fell in behind Jarl, Jon and Ygritte with the rest. This was to be the young raider's hour of glory.

x

Jarl would not make that mistake, Jon knew, but he wondered about Styr. The Magnar is a ruler, not a raider. He may not know how the game is played.

I'm starting to worry about this Jarl character.

A ruler - not a raider - sounds like a perfect fit for the north.

+.+.+

"There they are," Ygritte said, and Jon glanced up to see the first climber emerge above the treetops. It was Jarl. He had found a sentinel tree that leaned against the Wall, and led his men up the trunk to get a quicker start. The wood should never have been allowed to creep so close. They're three hundred feet up, and they haven't touched the ice itself yet.

And where do I stand?

+.+.+

"So slow," the Magnar complained loudly, as he watched them edge their way upward. "Has he forgotten the crows? He should climb faster, afore we are discovered."

[...]

All the same, Jon found himself hoping that Styr's fears proved well founded. If the gods are good, a patrol will chance by and put an end to this.

And where do I stand?

+.+.+

"No wall can keep you safe," his father had told him once, as they walked the walls of Winterfall. "A wall is only as strong as the men who defend it."

Including, just in case.

+.+.+

"The Mance's pet must want a sword," the Magnar said, shading his eyes.

The Thenns sounding exactly like the northern mountain folk is no mistake.

Lord Wull came to Winterfell once, to do his fealty and talk with Father, and he had the buckets on his shield. He's no true lord, though. Well, he is, but they call him just the Wull - Bran II, ASOS

+.+.+

Jon was watching them inch along when he heard the sound—a sudden crack that seemed to roll along the ice, followed by a shout of alarm. And then the air was full of shards and shrieks and falling men, as a sheet of ice a foot thick and fifty feet square broke off from the Wall and came tumbling, crumbling, rumbling, sweeping all before it.

[...]

And when they looked up Jarl and his team were gone. Men, ropes, stakes, all gone; nothing remained above six hundred feet.

[...]

The Wall defends itself, Jon thought as he pulled Ygritte back to her feet.

And where do I stand?

(It's actually kind of sad how emotionless he is during all of this.)

+.+.+

They found Jarl in a tree, impaled upon a splintered branch and still roped to the three men who lay broken beneath him. One was still alive, but his legs and spine were shattered, and most of his ribs as well. "Mercy," he said when they came upon him. One of the Thenns smashed his head in with a big stone mace.

Was that the best way to do that? 💀

Mercy in back-to-back chapters. A theme is emerging. Good luck, Daenerys.

+.+.+

"I hate this Wall," she said in a low angry voice. "Can you feel how cold it is?"

"It's made of ice," Jon pointed out.

"You know nothing, Jon Snow. This wall is made o' blood."

Boy, if I didn't know any better I'd think that Wall is meant to represent someone.

A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. . . . - Daenerys IV, ACOK

+.+.+

It was near midnight before Jon reached the top. The stars were out again, and Ygritte was trembling from the climb. "I almost fell," she said, with tears in her eyes. "Twice. Thrice. The Wall was trying t' shake me off, I could feel it." One of the tears broke free and trickled slowly down her cheek.

Sounds like the Wall doesn't want you Ygritte! :(

+.+.+

"The worst is behind us." Jon tried to sound confident. "Don't be frightened." He tried to put an arm around her.

Ygritte slammed the heel of her hand into his chest, so hard it stung even through his layers of wool, mail, and boiled leather. "I wasn't frightened. You know nothing, Jon Snow."

How romantic.

Love how George has given Ygritte an obnoxious character trait that he knows would irritate the shit out of every person, across every culture.

Ygritte punched his shoulder. "An old woman, am I?"

x

She punched him. "That's vile. Would you bed your sister?"

x

She punched him again. - Jon III, ASOS

Arya is bad for this too. While she's old enough to know better, at least she's not 19 years old.

+.+.+

"Why are you crying, then?"

"Not for fear!" She kicked savagely at the ice beneath her with a heel, chopping out a chunk. "I'm crying because we never found the Horn of Winter. We opened half a hundred graves and let all those shades loose in the world, and never found the Horn of Joramun to bring this cold thing down!"

Ygritte, confirmed dumbass.

He touched the horn again. "If I sound the Horn of Winter, the Wall will fall. Or so the songs would have me believe. There are those among my people who want nothing more . . ."

"But once the Wall is fallen," Dalla said, "what will stop the Others?"

Mance gave her a fond smile. "It's a wise woman I've found. A true queen." He turned back to Jon. "Go back and tell them to open their gate and let us pass. If they do, I will give them the horn, and the Wall will stand until the end of days." - Jon X, ASOS

+.+.+

Final thoughts:

It's driving me batshit crazy that people can't see this relationship for what it is.

Ygritte Death Countdown

7 down, 3 to go. :(

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