#both of them lost FRONT FANGS? along with other teeth?

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 13: The Regrets Are Useless] [Series Finale]

A/N: Below are your final predictions. Let's see how you did... 🥰

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Whatsername” by Green Day.

Word count: 6.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Rain pours outside the cabin, mist-shrouded pine trees and still dark water, a place in southern Oregon called Lake of the Woods. The twin-sized bed with a thin foam mattress was once used by kids attending summer camp, capture the flag and s’mores, hikes and scary stories, but now the children are ghosts and the monsters are real, stumbling down streets and lurking in dark places, licking blood from what’s left of their lips.

Aemond is here but he’s also not, a castaway on an island where the world never ended, his hands in your hair as you straddle him, your hips moving tentatively, his lips and teeth at your throat, the sharp points of his canines like fangs.

“Am I doing this right?” you murmur doubtfully. “I feel like I’m definitely not doing this right…”

“Shh, you’re great, you’re incredible.”

“I’m sorry I don’t know how to do everything already, I’m sorry you have to teach me—”

“Stop,” Aemond commands, a sharp sigh through your hair. “I love this. I love you. I want to teach you things until the day I die.”

The nervous tension in your muscles unravels—peddles thrown into water, campfire smoke vanishing into indigo night—and now his hands are on your hips, steadying you, guiding you. You link your fingers around the back of his neck and try to find a cadence that isn’t uncomfortable, ungainly, effortful. You wanted to try this. You want to experience everything with him.

“Take your time,” Aemond is saying like it’s difficult for him to keep a train of thought, his eye closed, his cheeks flushed, blood-colored blooms like a dusk sky. “I’m fine down here, don’t worry about me…”

Rain drums against the windows; lightning flashes in the sky and thunder growls. From the front porch of one of the other cabins, you can hear the indistinct droning of conversations and Aegon strumming the acoustic guitar he brought from the beach house. It’s something you’ve overheard him singing before, one of his strange midcentury darlings, a song that should be too old for him to know the words to.

“All you big and burly men who roll the trucks along

Better listen, you’ll be thankful when you hear my song

You have really got it made if you’re haulin’ goods

Any place on earth but those Haynesville Woods…”

Your skin gleams with a cool sheen of sweat; there is a draft through the cabin walls that makes you shiver as you cling to Aemond. You roll your hips a certain way and he moans—suddenly, involuntarily—and you know you’ve found the right rhythm.

“It’s a stretch of road up north in Maine

That’s never ever ever seen a smile

If they’d buried all them truckers lost in them woods

There’d be a tombstone every mile

Count ‘em off, there’d be a tombstone every mile…”

Aemond is kissing you deeply, desperately, trembling hands and gasping shallow breaths. And there is not just euphoria written into the lines of his face; there is disorientation, there is wonder. He barely manages: “Alright…um…if you want me to last longer than about thirty more seconds, you should probably slow down…”

“No,” you tease, grinning as you bite at his full lips.

“When you’re loaded with potatoes and you’re headed down

You’ve got to drive the woods to get to Boston town

When it’s winter up in Maine, better check it over twice

That Haynesville road is just a ribbon of ice…”

Aemond cries out, louder than you’ve ever heard him before—you’ve never had privacy, you’ve never truly been alone—and then again, a helpless ecstatic sound, pleasure so overwhelming it almost starts to feel like pain.

“Quiet!” you whisper, giggling, touching two fingers to his mouth. “Everyone’s going to hear you.”

“Oh my God,” Aemond says. He falls back onto the mattress and brings you with him, his arms wrapped around you, kissing your cheeks and your forehead as the two of you lie there panting and entangled, his blue eye astonished. “Okay, okay, I need a minute. I think I just burst an aneurysm.”

“I killed you?” you purr with feigned distress, basking in your conquest.

“You can kill me whenever you want. You can kill me five times a day.”

“When you’re talking to a trucker that’s been haulin’ goods

Down that stretch of road in Maine they call the Haynesville Woods

He’ll tell you that dying and going down below

Won’t be half as bad as driving on that road of ice and snow…”

Aemond stares up at the ceiling—a steep gable roof, a motionless fan—and now you can tell he’s thinking about his family again, discorporate screams, misplaced trust. Otto Hightower’s bones were found in the shower, meaning he likely died before or not long after their power failed and water would have run out in the municipal system. They were probably killed before you and Aemond ever met, distant galaxies lightyears away, remote long-dead stars. And so all the blood you paid to get to California was wasted.

“Do you ever think about the people you have saved?” you ask gently as your fingertips trace the ridge of his scar. “You stitched yourself back together. You healed Aegon’s burns. You sutured Cregan’s arm. You got me and Rio down from that transmission tower.”

“I guess I did,” Aemond says, but his voice is ambivalent, as if none of these things count. He has not found someplace safe for you yet. His job is not finished; his triumphs may only be temporary.

“Aemond…back in Pennsylvania…why did you decide to help us?”

“Luke spotted you guys, and we all talked it over. If it had just been Rio, honestly, I wouldn’t have taken the chance. A man his size, and possibly armed…could be trouble, you know? But I figured since he was traveling with a woman and you seemed to be with him by choice, he was probably okay. And then when we first met, he was so protective of you…didn’t want me touching you, didn’t leave you alone…I realized he had to be a good guy.”

“He was,” you say solemnly. I was supposed to remind him about the racks. I was supposed to warn him. But you didn’t warn Rio about what was waiting to kill him in that sand-swept grocery store in Winnemucca, just like you didn’t warn Jace about radiation or Baela about the way the rungs of the ladder that ran up the side of the grain bin were rusted and creaking, and maybe there is more than enough blame to go around.

“And then after Battle Mountain, as soon as we found the gasoline and ammo, I knew we had to go back for you. It hit me all at once. I couldn’t protect you by leaving you with Rio and Cregan. And I couldn’t let you go. I’ve never had something like this before. I didn’t know it existed. I told the others we were turning around, and Aegon said: Thank fucking God. Rhaena took off sprinting towards the car.” Then Aemond kisses you again, but tenderly this time, slowly, like you’ll have forever and there’s no need to rush. “I’m going to get you to Odessa. I’m going to take you somewhere safe.”

The rain is stopping; there are still a few hours of daylight left.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Chip Skylark. Check it out,” Aegon says, grinning at you from where he’s sprawled on the wet dock and smoking a cigarette, wearing his neon green plastic sunglasses, his left leg finally freed from its bandages and on full display. You’re all wearing the same things, stolen t-shirts and shorts, sweatshirts at night when it gets cold, sneakers you can walk hundreds of miles in; but Aegon won’t give up his Sperry Bahamas. “It’s nature’s tattoo.”

You sit down beside him and admire the scar tissue, red knots and white cords, jagged terrain like a mountain range, organic highways and bridges and trails. “It’s a roadmap.”

“That’s appropriate.”

You’ve been traveling on foot for two weeks since Criston’s white Tahoe ran out of gas and was abandoned in the town of Mad River, California. Now you are only about ten miles from Odessa, close enough to reach in half a day but too far to get into town before nightfall. This time tomorrow you’ll be there, and it will either be a haven or a wasteland, and if Rio’s parents’ community in Odessa has disappeared then so has your last idea for where to go. Absentmindedly, you skate your fingerprints over the bumps and grooves of Aegon’s leg like a blind man reading braille. He shifts and clears his throat; you’ve made him uncomfortable somehow. You lift your hand away.

“I’m sorry, does that hurt?”

“Nah. I can’t really feel anything besides pressure. The nerve endings got fried.”

“Oh.” But now you don’t know what you did to upset him. Aegon doesn’t provide an explanation. Down the dock a ways towards the shore, Rhaena is reading The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes and listening to the pink Sony Walkman formerly owned by a little girl named Ava. Inside whirls Green Day’s 2004 album American Idiot, which Aegon took from his bedroom at the beach house to add to his CD collection, a cultural archive, a gift for posterity. Cregan is teaching Daeron to fish with poles he found in one of the cabins; Helaena is bringing them worms. Aemond and Luke are gathering things dry enough to burn—books and wooden chairs from inside the cabins—and piling them up so Cregan can cook dinner once it’s caught.

“So,” Aegon says, changing the subject, scrutinizing you as he puffs on a Marlboro Gold. “Everything going okay?”

You know what he means; he must have heard Aemond earlier. “Yup.”

“Got it all figured out?”

“Sure did.”

“Great. I’m happy for you,” Aegon says, and yet there’s a twinge of melancholy he’s trying to hide. It must be hard for him; he and Daeron are the only single ones.

“We’ll find you some suitable candidates for your harem when we get to Odessa.”

He chuckles. “Oh, come on.”

“Guys, girls? Do you have a preference?”

He’s smiling wistfully down into the water, a dark rippling mirror. “I have too specific a preference, that’s the problem.”

“Yacht girls in bikinis. Golf cheerleaders.”

“There are no cheerleaders in golf, you yokel.”

“Okay, well…I’m sure you’ll be very popular with the lonely, traumatized, widowed women of the apocalypse.”

Aegon gazes morosely out over the lake. He pitches the end of his cigarette into the water, and your eyes catch briefly on the black ink of the tattoo on his forearm: It’s not over ‘til you’re underground. “I don’t know. I’ve been sober for two weeks and now everything is annoyingly clear.”

“What’s bothering you?”

He waits a while before he answers, evasive. “I’ve never been good at anything.”

“Everyone feels that way sometimes. Luke thinks he’s not good at anything either.”

“But Luke’s nice. I’m a rat bastard.”

You laugh. “You’re kind of nice, Aegon.”

“Yeah right.”

“No, seriously. I like being around you. You make me feel better. You’re like…” You ponder how to word it. “I feel like I could tell you whatever and not worry about being judged for it.”

He snorts. “As if you’ve ever done anything judgeable.”

You shrug, peering out over the lake. “I abandoned my family. I stopped sending them money, I stopped calling. And when everything happened…the zombies, the world ending…I didn’t even consider going back to Kentucky to try to help them. I went west with Rio instead. And now they’re probably all dead and it’s my fault. That’s evil. I couldn’t have gotten away with that level of betrayal. I must be cursed.”

Aegon is watching you, eyebrows raised. He has never heard this before. “But your family sucked, right?”

“Yeah,” you admit. “I think it would be hard to argue they didn’t.”

“So fuck ‘em,” Aegon says simply.

You smile at him, touched, grateful. “Okay. Fuck ‘em.”

“I’m relieved my family’s gone,” Aegon confesses, something so brutal he’d never tell anyone else. “I mean…I feel kind of bad about my mom and Criston. But as long as they were alive, I’d always be the person they raised. And if I could bring someone back, it wouldn’t be any of them. I’d pick Rio.”

“I would too,” you say softly, staring down at the faint burn marks on your palms from when you were stranded on that transmission tower with him, talking him out of suicide, so adamant that both of you were going to make it to Oregon. And you were wrong.

“So if you’re cursed, Pita Chips, sign me up because I’m right there with you.”

Rhaena pulls out an earbud and says to Aegon: “I don’t get this album.”

“What?!” he exclaims.

“It’s so good!” you concur. On the shore, Cregan is spearing several gutted rainbow trout on sticks so they can be roasted over the fire. Ice is gleefully gulping down fish organs.

Aegon continues: “Whatsername! St. Jimmy! Jesus of Suburbia!”

Rhaena blinks, glancing between you and Aegon. “But neither of you grew up in the suburbs.”

“It’s not about the suburbs, Rhaena!” Aegon replies with frenetic hand gestures. “It’s about being disillusioned and angry and failed by all the adults in your life, and self-medicating, and losing love every time you get a taste of it, and wanting to burn everything down and start over. It’s about hating the world and the world hating you back.”

“Okay, sure. I still don’t get it.”

You say: “You might have had too happy a childhood.” And you and Aegon burst out laughing.

“You guys are so weird,” Rhaena says, but she’s smiling. She stands up, gives Aegon back his Walkman, and walks to the end of the dock where Cregan is cooking the rainbow trout. Aemond and Daeron are gathering up the aluminum buckets found at the campground and set outside earlier today to collect rainwater. There is one five-pound bag of trail mix left to share, and then all the food is gone. If Cregan doesn’t kill something, you won’t eat.

“We should go help them with dinner,” you tell Aegon.

He groans. “Should we really?”

“Yeah. We should.”

“Fine.” He takes your hand when you offer it and struggles to his feet. Then you inhale a lungful of the scent of roasting trout, and startlingly powerful nausea punches through your stomach, so repellant you have to clamp a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from retching.

There has to be something wrong with the fish. It’s never smelled like that before.

Aegon seems baffled. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Does the trout smell right to you?”

Aegon sniffs the air like a labrador. “I guess…? I barely smell anything.”

“Well you probably destroyed your nose cells with all the coke.”

“That’s discriminatory. Addiction is a disease.” But his brow is furrowed with concern. “Seriously, are you okay? You look awful. Not like that. You know what I mean.”

“I’m fine.” You don’t feel fine; but everyone down by the fire is chatting and joking around nonchalantly, and surely if there actually was something wrong they would have noticed. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“Sure,” Aegon says, perplexed.

You hurry past the others and take refuge in the cabin you’re sharing with Aemond. Inside the trout smell isn’t so strong. You sit at the edge of the bed and suck in several deep breaths, trying to calm down, willing the confounding wave of nausea to pass.

Did I eat something bad, did I get bit by a spider or something…?

You are checking your arms and legs for little raised bitemarks when Helaena enters the cabin and shuts the door behind her. When she opens her burlap messenger bag to root around inside, you glimpse photographs she must have taken from the beach house, the frames left empty on the mantle of the fireplace. Then Helaena pulls out a pregnancy test, just one, Clearblue.

You gawk at it. “What are you doing?”

“You look sick,” Helaena says matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, but I don’t think it’s that.”

She is puzzled, wide innocent blue eyes. “Why not?”

“Well…I mean…that would be freakishly quick, wouldn’t it? Like…quick as in immediately. People can’t get pregnant the first time they have sex, right?”

“Huh. They really don’t have sex ed in Kentucky,” Helaena says, and leaves you alone with your pregnancy test. You don’t feel so nauseous anymore, but you sneak around the back of the cabin to take it anyway, because now you’re thinking about the possibility with a vividness you’ve never experienced before: a round blossoming belly and tiny handprints and Aemond cradling his child in his arms. And by the time you get the result, you aren’t even shocked. It feels like something that’s supposed to happen.

You and Aemond don’t have a moment alone together until after dark, sitting on the porch swing outside your cabin for first watch, everyone else asleep, Ice dozing serenely by your feet. The only sounds are the breeze through the pine trees, cool and damp, and the hoots of owls, and the chirping of crickets and cicadas.

“So guess what,” you say casually as moonbeams float rippling and fractured on the surface of the black-glass lake.

Aemond smiles drowsily, not expecting anything. “What?”

“In approximately eight months, I might be having your baby.”

At first, he doesn’t speak; he only studies the test when you hand it to him, and then looks at you like he’s not convinced you aren’t angry, like he can’t quite bring himself to believe that you’d want this with someone like him. “Are you afraid?”

“No,” you answer honestly. Maybe you should be, but you aren’t. “I’m hopeful. I feel like as soon as I realized it, everything got brighter. And now I’m thinking about the future instead of the past.” They’re not going to grow up like I did. They’re never going to think they aren’t loved. “What should we name it?”

“Not Otter.”

You laugh, trying to muffle it so you don’t wake anyone. Ice lifts her head and stares at you curiously, her shaggy grey ears straight up.

“I don’t know, I’m terrible with names,” Aemond says; and now he’s smiling again, a wide radiant smile, and you know he’s thinking about the future too. “Hope or Peace or something. Something happy. Something about starting over.”

You take his hand. “I can’t wait to start over with you.”

“Just one more day,” Aemond says.

One more day.

~~~~~~~~~~

“So what am I going to do in Odessa?” Luke asks as the eight of you—nine, if you count Ice—trek eastbound on Route 140. You are about five miles from Lake of the Woods and halfway to your destination. It’s only 80 degrees and overcast, good walking weather, although there is a looming threat of rain, occasional rogue drops and far-off rumbles of thunder. “Everyone has valuable skills except me. Chips has great aim and can build things, Daeron has his compound bow, Aemond is basically a doctor, Rhaena is learning how to shoot guns and treat injuries…”

“Aegon has skills?” Cregan jokes, casting him a good-natured grin. Aegon acts like he’s going to whack Cregan with his golf club, which he’s spinning around haphazardly. Both his Marlin .22 and acoustic guitar are slung across his back. There aren’t many bullets left, but everyone has a few.

“Aegon can navigate,” Luke says. “And probably impregnate ten women a day. Very useful during a population crisis.”

“We don’t need that in the gene pool,” Rhaena notes.

“You wrote stories in college, right?” you ask Luke.

“Screenplays, yeah,” he says hesitantly. “But I wouldn’t say I was super talented or anything.”

Aegon claps him on the shoulder “Well I’ve got good news for you, kid. A big chunk of the world’s screenwriters are probably dead now. So you’ll look so much better in comparison!”

“Thanks…?” Luke says.

“What I mean is,” you continue. “You could write books for people to read, since there aren’t really libraries or Barnes & Nobles anymore. And you could interview people to get their life stories and then record them so they aren’t lost forever. The next generation should know what the world was like before the zombies.”

“Yeah,” Aegon says as he pets Ice. “Someone has to tell them about blue raspberry Icees, right Blue Raspberry Icee?”

“Maybe,” Luke says thoughtfully, and you notice that he’s smiling a little.

Ice begins whining, and there is a rustling in the woods to the north, low-hanging branches of bigleaf maple and dogwood and Douglas fir trees being forced aside. “Zombie!” Aegon announces, pointing. Immediately, Daeron nocks an arrow and then releases it, and the figure draped in the shifting shadows of foliage drops to the ground.

“Hey Aegon,” Daeron says after a few seconds.

“Yeah?”

“That was actually a zombie, right?”

“Totally,” Aegon replies, but he doesn’t sound certain.

Aemond turns to his older brother accusingly. “How sure are you?”

“Like…50%.”

“Aegon!” Rhaena cries, petrified, and everyone rushes off the road to investigate.

Blessedly, the felled creature is long-dead, a former park ranger whose tan uniform hangs in gore-stained tatters. The nametag reads: Underwood. The arrow pierced its soft rotting skull and remains lodged there until Daeron pulls it out to be used again, giving Aegon an impatient scowl as he does.

“Close call,” Aegon tells him. “Think they would have charged you as an adult?”

“Lord almighty, that gave me a scare,” Cregan says, chuckling. Helaena spies a blackberry bush and begins picking a handful, and Cregan goes over to join her. Rhaena and Luke are telling Aegon that he needs to be more responsible and should have waited for Luke to confirm it was a zombie with his binoculars. You exchange a glance with Aegon: he rolls his eyes, you offer a smirk of commiseration. Ice is already trotting back towards Oregon Route 140.

You haven’t told anyone else that you’re pregnant yet, but eventually they’re going to notice that Aemond won’t leave your side. He sighs and asks you: “Have you had enough of this little field trip?”

“Definitely.” You head for the road. Aemond walks with you, placing you not on his left side but on his right where he can see you. You ask, smiling: “You don’t trust me to watch your blind side anymore, huh?”

“I prefer the view the way it is.”

You are only a few steps from the black artery of pavement that cuts through the Cascade-Siskiyou National Monument, a 114,000-acre preserve of wilderness that somehow—although it is 2,500 miles away—reminds you a bit of eastern Kentucky, endless emerald forests, the omnipotent shadows of mountains. And because you are on Aemond’s right side, he can look down and see something just in front of you on the earth strewn with knobby roots and pine needles and dead leaves.

“Don’t!” he shouts, snatching your forearm and yanking you backwards, and he’s never touched you like this before—so forcefully, so violently—and you stumble and almost fall, and your arm burns and aches where he grabbed you, and people are asking what’s going on, and you peer up at Aemond with confusion, fear, mistrust.

“Why…?”

And then you hear it rustling from the same place where you were standing a moment ago. The others yelp and dash out of the way as the snake escapes into the woods, a drab spotted olive green, a rattling tail, an angular skull like an arrowhead.

“Aemond?” you say, because he hasn’t moved, hasn’t made a sound. He looks down, and your gaze follows his. On his right calf, just a few inches above his ankle, are two small puncture wounds from the snake’s fangs, each dribbling a thin river of blood.

“Northern Pacific rattlesnake,” Helaena says, her voice shaking, tears welling up in her horrified eyes. “Venomous.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Aemond has one arm draped across Cregan’s shoulders, the other over Aegon’s. He’s moving slower, or is that just your imagination? His steps are less steady, his breathing more labored. His leg is swelling, a deep blue phantom of a bruise spreading beneath his skin, so tight it looks like it might split open.

“We’re almost there,” you say; you keep saying it, because hopefully that will make it true. “We’re only a few miles from Odessa, and we’ll find people who can help us.”

“Aemond, you’re a doctor,” Luke says.

Aemond’s voice is weak, pained, hazy. “I’m not a doctor.”

“You know what I mean!” Luke yells, frantic. “How do we fix you? What can we do?”

“Nothing,” Aemond says listlessly. “There’s nothing you can do without a hospital. I’ll either get better or I won’t.”

“People in Odessa will know how to help,” you insist. “They’re outside all the time, they hike, they hunt, they fish, they’ve seen snakebites before. They must have. They’ll have treatments.”

“Aemond,” Rhaena breathes, and you turn to see there is blood running from his nostrils. You scream, and Aemond touches his fingers to his face and then watches as they come away bloody.

“Put me down,” he tells Cregan and Aegon.

“No—” you begin, but then his knees buckle and he’s on the pavement anyway, blood pouring from his nose and his lips, blood filling up his right eye. Cregan walks to the shoulder of the highway, his head in his hands. Aegon stays beside Aemond, and you’re kneeling there with him, both of you using anything you have to clean the blood from Aemond’s face: the corners of your shirts, your bare hands.

He’s covered in blood, you think. Just like Jace, Baela, Rio.

“Can’t clot,” Aemond is murmuring. “The venom causes coagulotoxicity. Internal bleeding too. I feel like…like there’s all this pressure inside…”

Rhaena is taking Aemond’s pulse like he taught her to, fingers on the underside of his wrist. “It’s really faint,” she says quietly.

You grab a plastic Gatorade bottle filled with rainwater out of your backpack and tilt it against Aemond’s crimson-stained lips. He manages to swallow some of it. “Aemond, listen to me,” you say as calmly as you can. “You’re so close. We’re almost there. I need you to hang on a little longer.”

He shakes his head, slow dizzy motions. “It doesn’t matter.”

“They might have doctors in Odessa.” This is a fantasy, but you can’t resist it.

“Even if they do, there won’t be any antivenom. And it’s too late anyway.”

“No,” you say savagely, a sob ripping through your throat. “We didn’t cross 3,000 miles so you could die here. I won’t let you. It doesn’t make any sense. It’s not fair.”

“Aegon,” Aemond says, reaching for him, drained and fumbling.

Aegon catches his hand. “I’m here.”

His eye—crystalline blue corrupted with red, blood in clear water—drifts to his brother. “You have to get her to Odessa. You have to help take care of everyone.”

Aegon is weeping. “Man, it’s supposed to be you. How can I still be here if you aren’t?”

“You can do this,” Aemond says.

“I’ll try.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, Aemond,” Aegon says, then crawls away on his hands and knees and collapses on the pavement, gutted, inconsolable, hemorrhaging grief instead of gore.

Everyone is crying and touching Aemond—his face, his hands—saying goodbye, accepting tasks, and they come away stained with red, and rain has begun to fall from a dark sky growling with thunder. Rhaena takes his medical kit. Helaena takes his Glock and stows it away in her messenger mag. Then Aemond looks for you, and now you are alone with him here in the middle of the highway, two golden lines on black asphalt, and with your thumbprint you whisk away the rivulet of blood that is spilling from his eye.

“You’re going to be okay,” he whispers as his heart fails, as his lungs fill with blood instead of air, as his pores leak rust and ruin. “Odessa will be everything we hoped for. I just won’t be there with you.”

“You can’t leave me,” you’re saying as rain patters against the road. I left my family and now my family is leaving me.

“Love,” he sighs, almost too softly to hear. “I don’t want to.”

You lie down on the pavement with him and rest your head on his chest, feel it rise and fall beneath you as the rain descends in sheets. And then Aemond exhales, deep and rattling, and he never tastes oxygen again, never speaks, never touches you. You don’t move from where you’re lying. You’re there until you’re drenched to the bones with rain and the world is a cold mist of pine trees, of wilderness, and you can never go back to any of the places you’ve been before, you can never get back the people you’ve left there.

Aegon is shaking you. “We have to keep moving,” he chokes out through tears.

You reply without looking at him. “I’m giving up now.”

“No you’re fucking not. We have to walk to Odessa.”

“Everyone’s dead in Odessa. Everyone’s dead everywhere. I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t want to stay in a world like this.”

On the periphery of your vision, you can see Aegon glancing at the others, standing just off the highway and under the canopy of the pine trees. He seems defeated, he seems lost.

Then suddenly Aegon turns back to you. “Hey!” he screams, so loudly you jolt upright, your palms on wet pavement, rain dripping from your hair. “I’m still alive. You’re still alive. This isn’t over yet. I said I would get you to Odessa, so that’s where we’re going. Stand up. Right now.”

Aegon holds out his hand. Thunder booms, lightning strobes, and then you take it. He pulls you to your feet and hesitates, as if he didn’t think he would get this far. Then he throws his arms around you, a crushing desperate embrace, a wordless devotion, a silent vow, sobbing into the curve of your neck, tasting the copper and iron of his brother’s blood on your skin.

“We have to keep moving,” he says again, like an apology, like he understands how impossible it feels. “The storm’s getting worse. It’ll be too dark to see soon.”

“We can’t leave him alone like this.”

“That’s not Aemond anymore,” Aegon pleads. “Aemond’s gone. And he would want us to live.”

Now the others are here on the road too: Daeron, Helaena, Cregan, Rhaena, Luke, Ice whimpering and licking scarlet stains of blood off your hands. You’re all holding each other; you’re all any of you have left. Cregan carries Aemond off the pavement and on a patch of grass alongside Route 140, the seven of you cover his body with branches of pine needles and white petals from dogwood trees. Rhaena is the first person to begin walking again, heading east. One by one you follow her. The downpour is torrential; if you are attacked now, you are nearly blind. Aegon stays beside you no matter how slow your steps are. You think if he disappears, you will too; the strings that tie you to the earth will fray and unweave and your bones will turn to mist, your voice will only be the wind howling down mountainsides. You have no way of knowing how long you’ve been walking or how many miles are left. You wonder what will happen to Aemond’s child if there is nothing for you in Odessa.

The rain is stopping. Now you can hear crows, woodpeckers, formations of geese honking in a foggy sky and squirrels scrabbling up tree trunks. Falcons perch watchfully on dead power lines. Rare aisles of sunlight are breaking through dissipating clouds.

They rise up out of the verdant jungle, a tangle of Pacific ninebark and blue elderberry: four figures in green camouflage, two men and two women, all wearing tactical sunglasses and wielding assault rifles, M16s you’re fairly sure, automatic and with 20-round magazines. Daeron moves to nock an arrow and then stops when he sees you’ve put up your hands. The others follow your lead: palms empty, willingly surrendering.

It’s them, you think dazedly. The people in Odessa. They’re alive, they’re real.

“Please cooperate and hand over all your weapons,” one of the women says, fifties, muscular, alert hawkish eyes.

No one moves. Then you unholster your Beretta M9—received from the U.S. Navy almost exactly five years ago, a different lifetime, a different world—and hold it out to the woman in your open palm. And now everybody else is giving their weapons over too: Aegon and Luke’s .22s, Rhaena’s Ruger, the spare Ruger and Aemond’s Glock hidden in Helaena’s burlap messenger bag, Daeron’s compound bow, Cregan’s axe. Ice peers up at Cregan anxiously, her yellowish eyes wide, but she wags her tail when he runs one of his large, calloused hands over her rain-soaked fur.

Aegon is still clutching his golf club. One of the men stares at him, incredulous. “You can keep that, son,” he says.

The woman nods to the men. “Nick and Glen will escort you five miles up the road, and then return your weapons. We ask that you keep moving and do not turn around. We don’t want trouble, but we can defend ourselves. Don’t think you can double back tomorrow and try to loot us or anything. This is your only warning. Do you understand?”

Aegon nudges your hand with his knuckles, then taps you harder when at first you’re too shellshocked to notice. You have to explain. You have to tell them why you’re here.

“I…I…” You begin, unable to make the words leave your lips, rats from a sinking ship, plummeting bodies from a burning building. Here you stand on a precipice, and with so many other people to save. “I served in the Navy with Bryan Osorio. We left Saratoga Springs together. He told me it would be safe here.”

Now they are interested. Slowly, the woman lowers her M16. “You know the Osorios?”

“I do.” I’ve known them for half a decade.

“Could any of them identify you and verify what you’re saying?”

“His wife, Sophie. She’s blonde, and she likes elephants, and she had a baby recently.”

The woman is scanning the faces behind you. “And where’s Bryan?”

“He’s not here anymore,” you say, and now you’re sobbing again. Aegon is squeezing your shoulder, his head bowed. “I’m sorry. I wanted to help him get home. I was supposed to warn him, I was supposed to stop it from biting him, but I didn’t and now he’s gone—”

“Okay, okay.” The woman motions for you to calm down, but her voice is kind. “Who are these guys? Your colleagues, your friends?”

“They’re my family.”

“You can vouch for them?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll all submit to searches for bitemarks?”

“Yes.”

The woman turns to the men she called Nick and Glen. “Take them inside, will you? Get the ID verified and then we’ll process everyone.”

“Got it,” the older man says. And then, to you and your companions: “Follow me.”

Nick and Glen lead you into the forest, the canopy of pine needles so thick the daylight turns to dusk, and you think of lightning bugs, of firelight, of drinking Guinness on the beach with Rio on Diego Garcia. There are several patrols, groups of four or five, that approach to stop you until they see Nick and Glen and wave you through. Then the trees open into a meadow of buttercups and daisies and pink fawn lilies, and beyond that an immense village, some houses decades old, others currently being constructed with logs from pine trees. There are hundreds of people tending to livestock, hanging up laundry to dry on clotheslines, digging in gardens, making candles and soap and butter. There are children playing without fear, giggling as they chase after scampering dogs, challenging each other to games of kickball and Uno.

In front of one of the houses that predates the apocalypse, brick with a screened-in porch, there is a small blonde woman standing in a garden, smiling and chatting with a middle-aged couple. The baby she carries against her chest in a blue sling has dark curly hair like Rio’s.

Sophie and the baby are here. They’ve been alive the whole time.

You rest a palm on your belly without realizing you’re doing it. “What happens now?” you ask Aegon.

“The rest of our lives.”

It is unimaginable, it is impossible, it is so full of luminous potential you feel like the light will spill out of your pores like blood, it’s an oasis, it’s a second chance, it’s an island in the vast lethal untamed blue of the Indian Ocean.

“Let’s go,” Aegon says softly, taking your hand and leading you across the field of wildflowers, kaleidoscopic blooms in the last days of summer.

[abiteofhoney]

The Vampire and The Devilspawn

Hello!! I won’t do intros/notes in the beginning like this every time, but for the first time, I have a few things to say! First off, thank you to everyone that reads this story and takes this fun journey with me <3 thank you and i appreciate and cherish you all :) Secondly, I hope you can have a bit of patience with me as this progresses and I figure things out. As of posting this, I am 16 chapters in at roughly 50k. I am a proudly proclaimed pantser, so while I have a general direction for this story to take, most of it forms along the way. We're just having fun here, anyway! Third, this is, of course, a vampire story with some romance, and will come with the usual content warnings: blood, violence, biting, angst. All the fun stuff :) It follows both Magdalena and Anzurin's third person POVs.

Alright, enough of me. Here we go :)

4,889 words

Chapter 1 - Magdalena

She sits on her knees, slouching and weak, held up only by the fist gripping the back of her shirt, with only two thoughts tumbling around in her broken head. 

The first being her name. Magdalena Pierce. She knows that. There isn’t much else that she knows, but she knows that much, at least. 

The second is that she’s hungry beyond comprehension. The ache screams alive in her stomach, an empty hole unable to be filled, even though she’s tried. Blood still coats the front of her, having run in waves down her chin and throat and chest as she fed, and she thinks that she might have spilled more than she drank. 

They didn’t allow her to clean up before they attacked her, chained her wrists and ankles behind her back like she’s some type of animal. And Maggie just really doesn’t understand. The black-eyed woman told her to feed, so she did. She fed, and fed, and fed, and she’s still hungry. Starving. 

She tries to tell that to the man holding her, only getting out, “So hun-” before he slaps the back of her head with vicious force. Her teeth snap together, her fangs poking into her lip and drawing a bead of blood that she quickly licks up, then she looks up at the man that slapped her and gives him a throaty growl, baring her blood-coated teeth at him. 

“Should be stuffed, the way you fed. Now keep your mouth shut,” he snaps at her. Something about his empty black eyes and ruby red skin make her want to rip his sharp horns off of his skull. 

Maybe he’s right and she should be full, but the hunger gnaws at her stomach, an empty pit that cannot be satiated. Her fangs ache in her gums. Her eyes burn with frustrated tears. 

“Is he coming or what?” the same man barks at the two others standing across the room. 

They’re smart to keep their distance. Their sweat smells so tempting, even from this far. The blood from these black-eyed devilspawn tastes so delicious, and she yearns to taste it again. It was so sweet on her tongue with a hint of smoke. It settled in her stomach so nicely, and she wants more. 

“Anzurin should be here any minute,” one of the two answers. 

Magdalena peers at the man holding the back of her shirt. His corrupted heart beats heavily in his chest, a nervous thrum behind his ribs, which would be so easy to break. She got through the last one’s ribs with ease – but that’s also what has landed her here. 

She’s not really sure where here is. Where the lost causes go to get one more chance before they’re put down, the man holding her had said while they were transporting her, and she figured that sounds right. She did just drain a woman of all of her blood, and attack a few others that tried to stop her. Herra was the woman’s name, and Maggie only knows that because they wouldn’t stop yelling it at her. 

Why’d you kill Herra?

She’d like to kill them, too. She’d like to drink their blood until they’re empty, carve through their red flesh with her teeth. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” the man holding her barks, and the venom in his tone sets Magdalena on edge. It’s not her fault she’s hungry. It’s not her fault she’s like this. 

She’s not sure whose fault it is, but she is almost certain it’s not hers. 

Maybe it’s his. 

Magdalena lunges for him, fangs bared as she lurches for his leg. He yanks back just fast enough that all she gets is a mouthful of denim. She releases a growl from between her clenched teeth, a vicious one that comes from deep in her chest, but it’s quickly cut off by a kick to her ribs. 

A cry of pain falls from her as she tumbles to the floor, hands and feet still bound so that she can’t brace herself. Her shoulders and hips protest when she tries to curl in on herself, pain throbbing through her ribs. 

“You little shit!” the devilspawn shouts, giving her another kick. His leather boot slams into her hard enough to send her sliding backwards a few inches, only stopped by the wall behind her, and it feels like the second kick to her ribs cracks something. “Anzurin had better get here, now, and take this worthless leech off of my hands. I’m not -” 

He’s cut off by the door opening, somewhere near Magdalena’s feet as it shoves into them. “Hells below, Velur, have some patience,” a new voice drones. “I do have an entire coven to run, you see.”

Magdalena tries to move out of the way, scooting as much as she can but still crying through the pain in her ribs when the man kicks her again, not as hard this time but enough to move her out of the way of the door. She tries to bite the man’s leg even though she gets nowhere close. 

The newcomer laughs. “Well, what’s going on here?” 

“Fucking fledgling pain in my ass! She just tried to fucking bite me, and she’s already killed another devilspawn. Herra. Thought maybe you should knock some sense into her, but now I’m thinking that we ought to just put her down.” 

Another chuckle, and then he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Covered in blood, the poor thing. Hers or someone else's? She looks positively hungry.”

The man scoffs, and a wet glob of spit lands on Maggie’s forehead. “Some of it’s hers. Most of its Herra’s, her mentors. Drained her dead. If the bitch is still hungry after that, then something’s wrong with her.” 

Magdalena bucks at the insult, trying to break the chains around her wrists. If she could just use her hands again, she could sink her teeth into the black-eyed bastard’s neck before he could stop her. She snaps and snarls, throwing out hissed threats. 

He stares at her with those wide and empty eyes, mouth hanging open in shock before his entire face twists up in rage. His leg rears back, and Maggie welcomes it, knowing that if he really goes for it, she might actually be able to get a bite in if he gets close enough. 

But he doesn’t have the chance to send the kick when a voice cuts through the room. “Kick her, Velur, and you’ll be seen to.” It’s said so calmly, so casually that it doesn’t even sound like the threat it is. 

The one named Velur sneers down at Maggie, spits on her once more, and snaps, “She’s your problem now,” before storming out of the room. 

She tries to get him as he walks by, kicking his own legs out to trip him up, but it only yanks on her wrists. He gets away without a scratch, much to her dismay. Something about that man makes her just want to tear into his flesh, more than anyone else’s. 

When Maggie looks around, the two horned men are still standing across the room, but the new one stands much closer, arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at her. He’s much like the others – red-toned skin and horns sharper than her fangs – only his eyes are slightly different. The rest of them just have empty black eyes, and his are mostly the same, but he also has glowing red irises that gaze at her, giving his eyes more life. 

“Oh, dear, what are we to do with her?” the man murmurs to the two others.

“I don’t know, sir. She seems quite wild, yes? Maybe Velur was right and she’s just not made for the fledgling life. Perhaps death is the only thing that will fix her.” 

The man moves in a flash over to the one that just spoke, and Maggie giggles softly when he reaches out and smacks the back of the man’s head. “Look at her. She’s just hungry. Shall I kill you the next time you get hungry, Brem? Go take her chains off.” 

“You’re kidding. She just tried to bite Velur - more than once.” 

“Are you frightened by a little fledgling, Brem? Take those chains off of her. I won’t ask a third time.” 

Magdalena snarls at Brem as he dares closer, feeding off of the fear in his eyes and the shake in his hands. “Hells, please don’t attack me,” he whispers once he’s within reach. He grabs the chains around her ankles and moves her across the floor so he can reach the restraints behind her. 

She jerks away from his touch. She wants to be unbound, but she also wants to rip into the next person that touches her. She tries to kick at him, spit flying as she growls and snarls and gnashes her teeth at him.

But that red-eyed man flashes across the room again, and in an instant, he’s kneeling over her, a hand at the base of her throat to pin her to the ground. “Knock it off,” he commands sternly. His striking eyes bounce back and forth between her own, black eyebrows bunched together as he studies her face, but her gaze is only on his neck, the pulsing veins under his garnet flesh. 

She’s so, so, so hungry. 

“We’re going to take the restraints off of you, but you have to behave yourself fledgling. Can you do that?” 

Breathing heavily, Magdalena shakes her head. She truly doesn’t feel like she can control herself, not even a little bit. She doesn’t want to. 

“Oh, I think you can. Brem, let’s go,” he says to the other red-skinned creature, and then instructs the third in the room to, “Catch Velur before he leaves and get him back in here. I have questions.” He hasn’t taken his eyes from Maggie, nor has she taken her stare from his throat. “My name is Anzurin, and we’re going to make sure you’re taken care of here. What’s your name?” 

She doesn’t answer him, even though it’s probably the only time she will know the answer to anything. She grits her teeth together and runs her tongue over her fangs. They feel out of place in her mouth, new, even though she can’t remember a time without them. She can’t remember… much of anything.

All she knows is her name and her hunger, that she has fangs in her mouth and a need for blood. A hunger for red flesh. Thinking about sinking her fangs into the man above her sets her to wriggling again. 

Still pinning her to the ground, he smooths his hand over her blood-caked hair, brushing it out of her face. When she snaps for his wrist, he chuckles softly and holds his arm out of the reach of her teeth. “You’re just starved, aren’t you?” 

Once her chains are off, she’s going to bite him. She will. He smells so sweet, so tempting, she won’t be able to stop herself. 

The man rolls her on her side so that the other – Brem – can undo the chains behind her. He doesn’t yet release her wrists or ankles, but at least detaches them from each other so she can stretch out. 

“I’m going to sit you up, but you’re going to behave,” Anzurin says softly, but it’s not a question. It’s not a request. 

Not promising anything, Maggie pushes against his hand on her shoulder, sitting herself up, and she sighs in relief when she can put her legs out in front of her. The jeans she’s wearing are covered in blood, especially at the knees, as if she’d knelt in it, and maybe she did. She can’t really remember anything more than the feeling of her fangs in flesh. 

She tries to reach for the chains around her ankles without thinking about it, only to yank at the chains around her wrists still behind her back, her shoulders jerking painfully. An angry growl rips from her throat, wishing that she could rip the chains with her teeth like she so easily ripped through skin. She yanks on them again, this time on purpose, thinking just maybe she might be strong enough to break them. 

But they don’t budge. 

Brem kneels in front of her feet, eyeing her cautiously as he removes the chains from around her ankles. Her hungry gaze follows his every move, watching his wrists, his neck, salivating to think about the blood underneath. She bristles excitedly once her ankles are free and holds her wrists out to him, beyond ready to have use of her hands again. Saliva pools in her mouth as he slowly inches towards her side, nervousness radiating off of him. His black eyes shift to Anzurin. 

“I’ve never seen one like this,” Brem murmurs. “What’s wrong with her?” 

Anzurin grasps Magdalena’s chin, forcing her attention away from Brem. He searches her face for something – Maggie doesn’t really care what, because she’s stuck on his throat, unable to look away from it, unable to think about anything else except for how good it felt to flood her throat with that devilspawn’s blood. She bets his would taste just as good. 

“Nothing’s wrong with you, is there, fledgling? You’re just hungrier than normal,” Anzurin coos to her. He lifts her chin, trying to get her to look at him, but she doesn’t. She can’t. 

“So hungry,” she rasps. It’s a never ending hole inside of her, begging for more and more and more, a thirst unable to be quenched. 

“I thought as much. Come on, we’ll get you fed.” 

He hauls her to her feet, keeping a secure hold on her, but he makes no move against her, even when she tries to reach for his wrist, even when she bares her fangs at him. He only chuckles and guides her to the plush sofa against the opposite wall. Anzurin sits down first, then pulls her to sit at his side. He doesn’t have to guide her too much, as she easily follows his neck and wrists wherever they lead her. 

Once she’s settled next to him, pressed close against his side, he wraps his arm around her shoulders and places his wrist just in front of her mouth. Instinct tells her to chomp her teeth into his skin, gnaw until she’s full and his wrist is nothing but bone, but she gets distracted by the heavy pounding in her left ear. 

The noise comes from his throat, just inches from her face when she turns towards it. Wrists are dainty. So little would come out of it, compared to what would flow from his neck. She begins to lean in, but he jerks back and grabs the hair at the back of her head to keep her teeth off of his neck. “The wrist, fledgling, or nothing.”

He places it in front of her mouth once more and she can’t deny it a second time. She sinks her teeth into his rose-colored wrist with a starved fervor, fangs piercing him easily. Her mouth pools with delicious blood that tastes even better than Herra’s did. She was too sweet, almost like having dessert before dinner, but this… Anzurin… He’s a hearty meal. Savory and delicious. 

She digs in further, ripping through his flesh with her sharp, sharp fangs, biting down as hard as she can. She drinks from him with greed, unable to take a lot at a time but taking as much as he will give her. She’s so entranced by his blood that she doesn’t even open her eyes when the door opens once more and someone says, “I have Velur.” 

“Bring him in,” Anzurin drones. Maggie expects him to take his arm away any moment now, but he lets her keep feeding from him. 

“Stupid to let her loose,” Velur snaps, “and even more stupid to let her bite you. Don’t close that door, Brem – we’re going to want an escape when she’s down gnawing his arm.” 

“So dramatic.” Anzurin hums and brushes Maggie’s dirty hair off of her forehead with his free hand. “Sure, she’s a little rough with the teeth, but she’s starving. Insatiable, this one. Tell me about her.” 

“She can tell you whatever you wanna know if she doesn’t kill you.” 

“I think she’s a bit too distracted to answer any questions. I tried to ask her name, but she wouldn’t say.” 

“Weird, since it was the only thing she’d say earlier,” Velur scoffs. “Magdalena Pierce.” 

The hatred in his voice when he spits her name gets Maggie to open her eyes. Every time he speaks, she just wants to tear him into little pieces, so she tries. She shoves Anzurin’s arm away and lunges for Velur. She makes it off of the couch and across the small table, sending papers and items clattering to the floor. She reaches out for Velur, trying to grab him, scratch him, rip him apart with her teeth, anything she can do to hurt him like he’s hurt her. He’s the one that chained her up after she fed, and he smacked her and kicked her many times. She’s sure that his blood would be bitter, but she wants to taste it anyway. 

But she doesn’t get to, ripped away by Anzurin’s arms closing around her waist at the last second, yanking her back against himself. He puts his wrist back to her mouth, saying, “Right here – feed,” but she pays it no mind, too wrapped up in her seething anger directed at Velur. She fights and kicks and scratches and bites to no avail. 

“See what I mean?” Velur snaps. “She’s fucked! Just do us all a favor and put her down, Anzurin, before she kills another.” 

Anzurin struggles to keep Maggie restrained, but manages to sit back down on the sofa with her. “I’ll be honest, Velur, I’m not sure she’s the problem here. I think you are.” He smears his blood across her lips, going as far as to grip her chin to force her mouth open to drip blood on her tongue, but she continues to fight against his hold to get to Velur. “Doesn’t even care. I think she just wants you dead.” 

Velur scoffs. “Or you just don’t taste as good as you think you do, big shot.” 

“So, what’d you do to her?” Anzurin asks and then brings his lips to Maggie’s ear to whisper, “I know you’re still hungry. Drink.”

And she is very, very hungry, so she gives up her fight - for now- and sinks her teeth into his arm once more, marking more of a mess of the already mangled flesh. 

“Gentler,” he hisses through his teeth, and she hisses right back at him. If he were as hungry as she is, he wouldn’t want to be gentle either. She wants to rip and tear and gorge herself on both flesh and blood. 

“She killed Herra,” Velur says incredulously. “It took multiple men to drag her off of Herra’s corpse, and a few of them even got bit in the process!” 

Anzurin strokes her hair as she quits fighting and settles once more. “And?” 

“Wh - And?! She killed one of our own! Do you not care?” 

“Not so much,” he says with a shrug. “That’s the risk we take. She’s a fledgling, Velur. It’s her very nature to feed. To kill. Why would you punish her for it? Every part of her screams for blood and she shouldn’t be denied; she just needs to learn a little control, that’s all. How long ago was she changed?” 

“Hells, I don’t know! Didn’t even know the bitch existed until she had to be ripped off of Herra’s neck today.” 

At the insult that leaves his lips, Maggie lets out a growl and cuts a glare at him, but she doesn’t lift her mouth from Anzurin’s wrist. Her hunger never ends. 

Anzurin laughs heartily. “Oh, she definitely just hates you. When’d she come into the coven?” 

“I don’t know,” he says again. “I don’t usually handle the fledglings.” 

“Find who does and bring them to me. I want to know where she came from.” He trails his touch down the side of Maggie’s face. He’s not even holding onto her anymore; she’s just happily drinking from him and not even trying to get away anymore. Her hunger is outweighing her instinct to fight, but only by a fraction. “She acts as though she’s gone weeks without feeding. And if that’s the case, I’m not at all surprised that she drained Herra. And she’s still going.” 

“She -” 

“I said to find who knows where she came from. Now. Not later.” 

Velur grumbles angrily, but jumps at the chance to leave the room. 

Once the door shuts behind him, a moment passes in which the only sound is Maggie drinking greedily and desperately from Anzurin’s wrist, but he soon says, “That’s enough for now.” 

She doesn’t listen. Magdalena holds onto his arm tighter, taking bigger gulps. Her nails dig into his skin just as her teeth do, drawing even more blood. She just wants more, more, more, and it’s still not enough. 

But then Anzurin fists the hair at the back of her skull and yanks. Her teeth rip from his arm, tearing flesh as he jerks her head back. 

Magdalena snarls and tries to twist and bite the hand grabbing her, but Anzurin keeps his grip and stares down at her. Gently, but sternly, he says, “That’s enough, Magdalena. We need to go get you cleaned up and looked over so we know what we’re dealing with here. You have to control yourself.” 

She whines, low in her throat. “But I’m so –” 

“Hungry, I know,” he coos. He looks to Brem across the room. “Get me three bags from the fridge, please. Open one of them.” 

Brem does as told, and all Magdalena can do is watch with Anzurin’s grip still in her hair, her head angled backwards. Brem goes over to a small black fridge in the corner, opening to the door to reveal two shelves stuffed full of bags of blood, but Magdalena hardly cares about that when the fresh taste of Anzurin’s blood is still stuck to her teeth. He grabs three of them as asked and brings them to Anzurin, who stuffs the first two in the pockets of his black coat while Brem opens the plastic spout of the third. 

A small bubble of blood pools out of the top as the pressure is released, spilling onto Brem’s finger, and he freezes in place while his fearful black eyes flick to Magdalena. 

“You know,” Anzurin murmurs as he takes the open bag, “she probably loves that you’re so scared right now. You know they don’t just feed on blood, Brem.” He waves the packaged blood under Magdalena’s nose, but the cold scent of it nearly makes her gag. She wants the fresh stuff, and tries to look for Anzurin’s bitten arm. 

He jerks her hair. “No, drink this.”

The stinging in the back of her head is what makes her snap. Magdalena yanks her head out of his grip, leaving chunks of hair between his fingers. She claws his face and her fangs go straight for his neck. He tries to grab her hair again, but she’s faster, and slams it to the wall above his head. 

On her feet, crouching next to him on the sofa, she uses her foot to pin his other hand to the sofa cushion, and that leaves a hand free to hold his head to the side so she can sink her teeth into his neck. She rips and tears, getting flesh stuck between her teeth, but filling her screaming stomach with his delicious blood. 

But as her stomach fills, so does the room with shouts and yells and screams. Something wraps around her waist and pulls, but she claws back at it and it goes away, but then something cold is wrapped around her throat, and the chains that once bound her yank her back. 

Magdalena loses her balance and falls to her back on the floor, but quickly turns on the one that pulled her off: Brem, backing away with large black eyes. Her rage swells into something unmanageable and she lunges for him, biting anything she can get her teeth in, which happens to be his upper arm, biting through cloth to tear at the rosy skin underneath. 

His blood is sharper than the others, only a fraction of the sweetness, and Maggie doesn’t like it as much, but it softens the edges of her hunger, so she pins his arms to his side and gulps as much as she can. As she knew she would be, she’s yanked back seconds later, turned by her shoulder and slammed back against the wall with a large devilspawn body in front of her and his forearm across her chest. Something else wraps around her ankles, and she kicks at what she assumes is the chains, but looks down to see a red tail curling tightly around her leg. 

“Stop it,” Anzurin growls at her, red eyes blazing. “Control yourself, fledgling, or I will do it for you.”

She tries to shove him off to no avail without the element of surprise on her side this time. He stays put, holding her down. Breathing heavily, she stares at his torn neck, his blood running down his throat and chest, soaking into his tan shirt. After a few moments of futile fighting, she relents and lies perfectly still to glare up at him. 

Anzurin breathes just as heavily, touching his fingers to his bleeding neck with a sharp inhale through his teeth. “I’d like to be able to let you go, but I need to be able to trust that you’re not going to attack one of us again. Can we do that?” 

In a jerking motion, Maggie shakes her head back and forth. She’s only stopped fighting for now because she knows it's a waste of energy to fight against him. As soon as he gives her even an inch, she’ll take it, but she’s saving her energy for that. 

“Now, Magdalena,” he says with a tsk. “Do you understand what’s going to happen to you if you can’t control yourself?” 

She spits a mouthful of blood-tinged saliva at him, which lands on his chin. 

Besides clenching his jaw, he shows no other reaction and uses the sleeve of his shirt to wipe his chin. “You’re going to have to be put down if you can’t behave,” he tells her. “I do not tolerate this kind of behavior in my coven, and you are too wild to go anywhere else. If you can’t control yourself, then you will be controlled. Is that what you want to happen? Do you want us to have to kill you?” 

She doesn’t answer, unsure that she has an answer at all. Does she want to be killed? No, not particularly. But does she want to keep living? Maybe not, if this is the pain and treatment she has to endure. Her hunger is insatiable, fueling a need to rip and tear. She even thinks about biting her own flesh just for a taste of blood. 

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Anzurin murmurs in her silence, keeping his voice gentle and comforting. “We’ll feed you and make sure you’re taken care of, but you have to behave with us. With me, at the very least. I’m the one that will decide what happens to you, so I suggest you behave.” 

Magdalena only grumbles unhappily and tries uselessly to wriggle out from under him, but his arm holds her shoulders against the wall, his tail around her ankle keeping her from kicking. 

“Okay, you can’t keep denying that there’s something wrong here,” Brem says from where he stands nearby, chains still in his hands. “This isn’t normal for a fledgling.” 

Brows creased, Anzurin studies her quizzically. “There’s something wrong with the situation, definitely. Something’s been done to her. Someone else did this to her.” 

Brem dares a step closer. “What do you mean?” 

“She’s starved, Brem. Her fangs are sharper than a new fledgling's should be. Hazarding a guess, I’d say that she’s a few months old, and I’m thinking that today is the first time she’s drank since she was changed. Am I right about that?” he asks her. 

Maggie can’t remember anything before today, but she’s certainly older than just a few months. She’s a grown woman. But she does also feel like she hasn’t eaten or drank anything in quite a while. Maybe ever. 

With his free hand, Anzurin brushes Magdalena’s hair out of her face. He then orders Brem to hand him the bag of blood that she’d turned her nose up at before. “You can’t keep drinking from me right now - I don’t have that much blood to spare - but you can drink these bags. I know they’re not as good, not as fresh, but it’s what you’re going to get right now. I’ll give you as many as you want – but only if you promise to try to control yourself.” 

Against every fighting instinct, Magdalena nods. 

—

Ending notes won't happen all the time either, but just a thing or two more to tack on.

I will make a chapter navigation post and link that here, to make accessing all chapters easier, and after this chapter, that link will go at the beginning of each post.

And my lovely taglist!! Thank you to everyone that has joined and shown interest in this story! I wouldn't have decided to post this at all if it weren't for all of you cheering me on, so thank you, and here's to you!!

@pizzamanstan @leahnardo-da-veggie @swollenkiln @dyrewrites @trippingpossum

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If you aren't already on the taglist but wish to be, interact with this linked post right here, which has a little more information for you. If you are on it and want off, just let me know, no questions asked!

I think I've yapped enough for the first post, so this is the end lol. Thank you <3

[bitchstarion]

Selfish (Astarion x Tav)

hi i have not written fanfiction in years, but i had to throw this little snippet out there in the world Rating: T Cw: Character death Length: 1k

Astarion was never selfish in his relationship with Tav. 

Sure, he could be needy, flamboyant, jealous. He was, after all, Astarion. But Tav would never call it selfishness. Astarion’s feelings and actions were fueled by his wanting to be safe; then to be held; then to be truly loved. By none other than his Tav.

After the whole saving Faerûn and being a hero thing, their cottage that sat on the edges of Baldur’s Gate was situated next to the woods— Astarion had always found it strange that such a massive and lively city could be surrounded by so much quiet forest. But Tav could not live without her nature, and Astarion could not live without her Tav, so he was willing to spend the extra money to indulge her in that. Mainly for the lake.

A few paces out the back of the cottage and into the woods led them to a quiet, secluded—and entirely theirs— lake. Although their bathroom facilities in the home were far more than adequate (at Astarion’s request), Tav occasionally found herself bathing and unwinding in the lake. 

It was serene, and quiet. Opposed to while traveling, it was just hers and Astarion’s. No other companions wading in and making awkward small talk while they were both bare as the day they were born. This was for Tav and Astarion only.

After a night of hunting Astarion would frequently return home to find Tav no where in the cottage— instead, she’d be floating in the center of their lake. A cloudless night, with the moonlight reflecting off her pale body. Droplets would slide slowly from her chest back into the water, making her glisten. Astarion would just admire her like this, forever if he could. But Tav could always feel when his presence was near. . 

“Care for a swim?” Tav asked, standing back up in the water. Her head cocked to the side, suggesting that it was more of a request than a question. Astarion would grin that playful grin of his, showing off his fangs and the slightest bit of blood still lingering on his teeth, before striding over and stripping himself of his clothes.

Astarion would wade in the water, slowly making his way over to Tav. She had closed her eyes and laid her head back in the water, letting her float out behind her. An outsider would see it as a predatory vampire stalking towards his prey— but there was no outsiders. Just Astarion and his Tav, in their own little world with nothing but love and respect for one another.

“You got blood in your hair this time,” she grinned, sitting up and opening her eyes, “wouldn’t want to ruin those perfect curls.” 

“Ruin this hair? Darling, I could never.”

Astarion slithered his hands around Tav’s waist bringing her closer. Her face slightly flushed, and a strand of her hair limply fell into her face. Astarion pushed it away, cradling her cheek while doing so. Her face, bare and slightly damp from the water, shimmered in the moonlight. Her eyes filled with love and adoration.

Astarion was eternally grateful to the tadpole for initially giving him access to the sun again. To feel the warmth on his skin, the world around him in lively color. Centuries without it had left him vitamin C deficient and craving a sense of aliveness. But he also grew grateful for the same moon he once loathed, for how beautiful it made Tav look. She always looked radiant and full of life. 

He sat at the gravesite, looking towards his pale hands. They felt barren— his gold wedding band sat on the ground in front of him, while the ring of the sunwalker that Tav and him had spent years finding had been given to a Dekarios in Waterdeep weeks ago. 

He thought about the last days of Tav’s short life. Well, short in his eyes. She had lost track somewhere along the way, but had she paid closer attention, she would know that she had lived to 719. 651 of those years were spent with Astarion. A respectable lifespan for an elf, but much too short in Astarion’s immortal eyes. He would have wanted her forever, if she would have him.

Tav’s hair never went gray— instead, the light strawberry blonde turned to a shocking white. She had teased Astarion endlessly about a single proper gray hair she had found on his head one evening, towards his ear. Embarrassed and flustered, when he brought up that she had been losing her color for years now, Tav simply grinned and said, “Yeah, but it’s not gray like a certain old man I know”. 

Looking at her white hair on her last day was devastating. While originally it had given her a regal, wise look, now she looked frail. And small. So, so small, laying in bed with slowing breaths. She looked lovingly at her partner, knowing that her time was coming. She wanted to memorize his face even further so she could remember it in whatever comes after. A smile, so soft, on her face. Astarion tried to match it, but the tears welled in his eyes knowing that this was the end of their time together.

He had briefly considered trying to turn her into a vampire, any way he could possibly think of, but he knew she’d (metaphorically) kill him. Chide him for being selfish. Circle of life and all that stuff. Spending so many years isolated in the woods would give you those druidic ideas of life, he supposed. Tav had always been wiser than him, even in their more youthful days of trying to get a space parasite out of their brains. 

Astarion closed his eyes, remembering every detail of her face. From the day Tav had met him, to the day she died. She always had his heart, and always would.

The sun began to rise just over the horizon, light encompassing the cemetery. 

Astarion could be selfish, at least just this once. 

[blackbloodteeth]

Belated Snippet Sunday, thanks for the tag @chickycherrycola! Bit sleep deprived right now, but thought you might get a kick out of this haha. Should be noted this might be a little... weird hah

———

His eyes, like that of a cat's waiting to pounce at any moment, never stray from the commanding figure watching him from the other end of the table. His fangs slowly pull apart the corners of his mouth, a cheshire crescent letting the sharp edges sitting behind his tusks peek out. As every second passes, the dark-tipped talon of his index finger taps faster against his cheek.

Suddenly, he glances down, both hands coming to a standstill at the two small bowls gaping up from the table right in front of him. One with red cherries, the other with black.

His eyes don't break away again as he slips a black cherry into his mouth, intentionally running his tongue along the edges of his teeth before savoring the taste of all the sweet, juicy flesh easily splitting across his taste buds, the metal restraint swaying against his wrist when he licks the tips of his claws and then plucks the pit from his mouth. Yet nothing was quite so tantalizing as the look of scorn that which the woman writes down notes with.

Oh, how he wants to study her. Learn all her tasty little in's and out's. This was no ordinary prey, no rabbit like the way she wore her hair up, draping down her shoulders – The reaper wants to purge him. The mad man wants to turn him inside-out. And this angel… she wants to study him. For as much as her face gives away how much she'd like to shove his head up his own ass too.

So he gives her the most delightfully devilish smirk he has in store for her, going toe-to-toe to always gauge her reactions. He hasn't felt so… human like this in ages. And chances are, it'll be an age less to see how long until she utterly loathes him. He'd bet his horns on it.

—

Soul is one of the many lost souls on their way to becoming a Kishin, and Maka – a Grigori – has been striving now more than ever to find a way to bring them back to the path of humanity instead of outright hunting them.

Looks like she's got her work cut out for her, though – Not only is this demon a weapon (and she's highly suspecting the exact kind that she gave up on searching for back when she was once innocent), but he's got more snark in spades than her tested patience may be able to handle.

[cloudbattrolls]

Shapestealer

Etuuya Vannyn | Present Night | Kaningård Cavern

Tuuya gritted their long fangs, trying not to focus on the flickers of nervousness wriggling through their mass. They weren’t quite as calm as they’d pretended to be in front of Viltau; they knew this might be risky, but…

If there was any chance of finding out why Inshii had vanished, every last butterfly of the swarm, they wanted to find out.

So they made their way through Kaningård’s tunnels as quickly as they could with their cane, searching for Iaktta.

“Looking for me?” came a voice from behind them.

There she stood as they spun around, arms folded behind her back, looking like any other matron.

“Iaktta.” They growled quietly, leaning with both hands on their cane. At least there was no one else close by right now, but they needed somewhere more private.

“Come with me.” The worm swarm ordered curtly, and the impostor followed, voicing no objection but wearing an annoyingly knowing smile on its face.

They went back to Tuuya’s office, and both took seats in the cozy room, decorated with comfortable rugs and various types of art, well-lit by soft yellow lights set into the stony walls.

“I have this funny feeling you know what I’m about to ask.” The head matron said dryly, putting their cane to the side as they reclined in their chair to be more comfortable.

The creature across from them just kept smiling.

“So. Did you kill Inshii? And if so, how did you do it?” They asked bluntly.

It laughed softly.

“Before I answer - why is it so important to you? They were your enemy. Or is it that you worry I’ll come for you as well?”

“I want to know how you killed the strongest swarm of us all. I know bloody well they were bigger and had better weaponry than Gallen and I, that they had access to the best technology trolls have made. They trusted no one. How did you get close enough that many times, across that many locations?”

Iaktta hummed thoughtfully.

“What are you defined by, Tuuya?”

“I’m a drinker swa- " they answered automatically, then fell silent. 

Their eyes widened.

“No…but how? You…poisoned their blood supply? All of it?”

“Close, close.” It murmured. “I don’t need poison when I can just use myself.”

Tuuya say up straight, stunned. 

“To be that small…so much that even Inshii couldn’t detect you…”

Iaktta smiled widely.

“You swarms are so complacent.” It whispered. “You think no one can infest you back. The blood ran through and I was left behind in all those bodies, caterpillar and chrysalis and butterfly, and it wasn’t so hard to make them mine.”

Tuuya felt cold, their insides writhing in fear as their ears lowered.

“No…you didn’t…”

Iaktta slid a claw along the inside of one arm, and drew out a furled-up butterfly wet with jade blood.

The slit sealed almost instantly, only a few drops of jade dotting the stony floor. Tuuya’s tongue ran over their teeth hungrily, despite the cupcakes Viltau had fed them not long ago, but at least they kept their mouth shut.

Iaktta’s smile had grown lazy, and the butterfly spread its silvery wings, gleaming in the yellow light.

Silvery…?

Ah. Just like the beetles.

“So you really are some strange technology.” Tuuya muttered, gripping the handles of their chair. “You stole their body. Why?”

“I wanted to.” It said with a shrug. “And I despised them for what they did to their trolls.” It said, smile gone, a hard edge to its voice.

“Hours of dangerous work with minimal breaks. Inshii ate the limbs of any who lost them to the machines. They used those who couldn’t work for experiments, for any new drug QPIN felt like testing before they pushed it on the streets! I could go on.” It said, eyes nearly as bright green as Tuuya’s own alight with rage.

“But you know.” It said more calmly. “You know what the eldest child of Ozryel was like. If it weren’t for Klirro, they’d have killed you all…”

“How do you know this?” Whispered Tuuya. “How could you possibly know?”

It tilted its head. “I know many things. Not everything, not even close, but enough.”

“So your true identity is the artifice, hm?” They murmured. “Do you plan to stop me from investigating you?”

It snorted. “Going to tell on me to Jastes? That won’t go well for you. He has no fetters anymore, and he won’t care that your cavern is in the way.”

“And why does he hate you so much, exactly?” Tuuya asked dryly.

“I tricked him in order to gain my freedom.” It said, the silvery butterfly landing on its shoulder. “He took it personally.”

“I can’t imagine why.” Tuuya deadpanned. “What with your trustworthy demeanor and friendly attitude.”

It put a hand to its mouth as it laughed. “I am what I am, and I don’t have your charms to make the uncomfortable truth of what I am slide into irrelevance.”

The rainbowdrinker grimaced.

“At least I don’t steal bodies so casually.” They muttered.

Iaktta shrugged. “Do you expect me to weep and moan about it? You delight in eating trolls alive. You have no high horse here, Tuuya, just a skeleton crumbling beneath you.”

“Imagine if someone did it to you.” They shot back.

It laughed again, the butterfly circling around it.

“Of course I’d let someone take one of my bodies, if they had a good enough reason. I wonder how they’d use it…” It mused.

Tuuya put a hand over their face.

“You really don’t care?”

It blinked.

“Bodies are bodies. I can always make more. It would be annoying if someone I didn’t like stole one, but I could destroy it if I was really that bothered.”

“Oh, so you aren’t always a thief.” Tuuya drawled. “Isn’t that refreshing.”

“Don’t be petty, Tuuya, you didn’t like Inshii anyway and Ardoat was a stooge of the empire.”

“Ardie still didn’t deserve to-“ they paused, then squinted.

“Wait. Arty? Vallis’s silly friend? But you’re…”

It grinned widely.

“Oh, that is so on the nose.” They huffed. “What, were you laughing about that the whole time you stole her body?”

“Total coincidence, I promise, but it is also really funny. I bet if she were alive, she’d agree.” It drawled.

“You are tasteless.” Tuuya huffed.

“I’m so sorry, please keep preaching to me from your ivory tower of blood and bones.” It retorted, batting its eyelashes.

“I hate you.” The worm swarm grumbled, having no rebuttal.

“And here I thought you only liked to date your food.” Iaktta drawled in amusement.

“Why, you - !” The head matron’s voice became an angry squeak as they shook an angry fist, a few worms poking their heads out of it to bare tiny teeth.

It blepped at them and Tuuya wanted to get up and throttle it right then and there, but they knew there was no point.

Instead more worms poked out of their face and hands to bare their teeth as the rainbowdrinker hissed in irritation. Iaktta said nothing, merely smiling again in that obnoxious fashion.

“Are we done here? Do you feel worthy of Scooby Doo?” It said innocently. “Tell you what - ask Viltau to make you troll gut Scooby Snacks next time.”

“Get out.” Tuuya groaned. “Before I see just how much of you is still flesh and blood and pick my teeth with the metal.”

“Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time, Tuuya, you’re not the only one who can regenerate.”

The worm swarm stared after the artifice as it got up and started walking away.

“What?” They said, with a strangled squeak.

The only response was the creature’s laughter.

[whump-ventures]

Return to Kethrys

-had a sudden burst of inspiration for this world as a whole and some old characters are getting a revival. Most of them are changing quite a bit (even though if anyone remembers my bastard Edwyn he's not changing much at all and I'm excited to bring him back). Similar world, new plot, similar characters, and a lot of new ones! Should be fun, and hopefully I actually get around to writing since I wrote maybe one (1) drabble last year.

~~~

Clawing her way to consciousness has never been this difficult, but her memory has never been quite as fractured either.

She doesn’t blink open her eyes just yet, letting the other senses gather information. The air is heavy and stale, a far cry from the crisp and clean mountain air that she’s familiar with. The smells are confusing- rats, she can smell and hear their warm bodies snuffling along the ground, humans as well, and hay. An odd combination, especially with some of the humans seemingly healthy- but others not so much. And above all there is the overwhelming smell and taste of metal and stone surrounding her.

Footsteps, from far down the hall. A soft clinking a hundred or so yards away. She’s certain that the stale taste in the air means that they are deep underground, but even here she can hear the faintest song of the wind. Curious- like an opening to the world in such a foreign place-

A miniscule twist of her head and a sudden striking realization that she isn’t in the right form. Arms and hands tied- no, bound- by harsh metal that is behind her back and attached to the wall. Her legs and feet folded underneath her, and there's a deep ache which means she must have been kneeling in this position for quite some time now. She can feel the biting cold through her wrists and on her shins, which is another sure sign of her flimsy human skin, not tough and beautiful scales that can stop even the most deadly weapon.

She would never contain herself to this body unless… unless someone with wards forced her into it.

Silver eyes flash open with a snarl, teeth bared ready for a fight.

There is no foe in front of her. She twists her head to each side, tongue flicking out to taste the air. It’s dark in the- cave?- but her predatory eyes adjust in an instant, adding to her already confusing intel. She wills her body to grow and shift, needing to be rid of this weak and useless body and back into the one that she belongs in: With wings that stretch with scales of glittering obsidian, fangs that are longer than some men are tall, claws that rip and shred with ease. Yet the attempt is met with a harsh flash of light from behind her, and her transformation runs into a wall of stone. Try as she might, the effort to become herself again is met with nothing but exhaustion.

None of this makes sense. In one last effort, her legs bend underneath her, trying to push her to her feet. But the metal bites, bites like a snake in the grass, and tugs her back down to the ground. Another snarl and a twist to fight, and it bites into her again, causing her to growl in a combination of pain and frustration. The claws and fangs that remain in this form are much smaller, practically useless against metal. After a brief moment of struggle to get away from the snake-metal, she finally stops with a hiss, panting in her frustrations.

How did she get here? In this deep cave, surrounded by trees of metal, with hurt humans and healthy humans both off in the distance? Where even is… here? And what is this place? Too many unanswered questions as her breathing slowly returns to normal- or as normal as it can get in this nasty stale air that has no hint of freedom, no taste of sun or grass or the moon or stars. Cold and unforgiving stone, not covered in a perfect layer of snow, not gleaming under the light from above, more stone blocking her from the world above. A dark and terrible place, and one that she has no recognition of. All she knows is that she is very far from where she belongs.

So lost in her thoughts and confusion, that she almost misses the footsteps approaching her.

Another sharp twist of her head- mindful of the snake-metal this time, and her eyes lock onto a woman with flowing hair. The hair is near-white: not the gold of the sun, but also not the pure color of the snow. Her eyes remind Kaelyx of an alpine lake- which only serves to anger her further about the way she has been trapped in such a manner. The woman is studying her intensely, a soft smile flickering across her face that Kaelyx knows means nothing good- she’s seen that expression one too many times.

“So…..” It’s drawled out, the focused gaze never wavering, “You’re finally awake, half-breed.”

A growl builds in her throat, claws scraping against the stone wall behind her as she imagines sinking them into the woman’s neck. But she keeps her mouth shut, eyes narrowed in on the woman like she’s nothing more than a tasty bite of prey.

“You’ll drop that tough act soon enough, dragon.”

Less of an insult this time, but the tone is still enough for Kaelyx to have a sharp image in her mind of ripping the woman’s throat out. She nearly opens her mouth to respond, but once again decides better of it, desiring to get a better idea of the situation before speaking something that she may regret.

The woman’s smile only grows, staring straight at her with that intensity that Kaelyx has only seen on other dragons before. A sudden strike rushes through her when she grasps that this is what it must be like for her prey. What they see, maybe even what they feel… There is no doubt that this woman has the power here. For now. So long as the snake-metal bites her wrists, so long as that strange flash of light keeps her contained in this body- for the first time in her life, Kaelyx is the prey.

“Well, I don’t see any point in delaying.” The tall, sparse, metal… trees- this place makes no sense- click and swing open, and the woman strides in. Kaelyx’s growl builds as she strides closer, and she pulls harder against her trapped hands, wishing she could swing her claws at the woman’s face. That smile could be wiped away with a single slash, and it would be so satisfying to hear the haughty human scream. Maybe Kaelyx can even rip out an eye in the process.

A hand extends slowly towards her, and her fangs flash and snap. As she lunges, that damn bite returns around her wrists. Kaelyx enters a fierce brawl with her own body, willing it to shift, and yet there’s simply another flash that leaves her exhausted.

The hand rests on her forearm, just above the wicked metal, carefully out of range of Kaelyx’s flashing teeth that have a strong desire to sink into flesh, tear muscle, crush bone…

“Any more words for now, darling?”

Darling?

That insult can not be ignored.

“How dare you?” Her words come out as a hiss of rage, shocked to her core at the utter disrespect towards her race. As if a human could even compare to the grandeur of a dragon. "We are far superior to you, and such a revolting slander is beyond—”

A sudden jolt runs through her body, like a living creature is walking through her veins. It's enough of a surprise, so foreign, that she cuts her words off to focus on it. Curiosity battling with apprehension. The energy knots inside her, follow by a grasp around her chest and then a sharp pull...

All the air rushes out of her lungs.

Shock rushes through her, and Kaelyx's immediate reaction is to turn and look at the mage kneeling beside her, looking for any hint to understand the magic at work here. The woman doesn’t speak, nor does she move, her studying gaze never leaving Kaelyx’s own.

An attempt to breathe, and there’s nothing.

Another, and still no oxygen.

A third, and the fear hits.

If only logic and reasoning would have stayed with her, but the dragon, the animal that she is, responds first. And that response is manifested in pure panic. Followed by pain. That terrible feeling of fire in her lungs that she remembers once before when she was young, trapped in a cave and running out of air. But this is worse. Worse because the air is everywhere around her. Worse because as hard as she tries, all that necessary oxygen just seems to get pulled away from her before it can go to her lungs. And then she’s thrashing, struggling, needing to get her claws to her throat, to open her airway, to get some breath into her, to stop the burning- burning- burning that continues to grow and spread.

Her panic grows like a weed, choking her as quickly as the woman that steals her air with just a touch. Her struggles grow weaker, the cave getting dimmer around her. A terrifying thought scorches through Kaelyx, as intense as the fiery burn in her lungs- she’s going to die.

The woman smiles right before her world turns black.

[lilmcttens]

(My) Amity Headcanons

In the Timeskip Luz distracts Amity on phone calls so much that she burns whatever she's cooking while she's standing in front of the stove! Emira has to keep a sharp eye on her and Edric quickly extinguishes it.

Whenever Amity says no to something Em & Ed wanna do together. They ask Luz to please, please, back them up and ask her and she'll usually cave and say. "Alright."

The Blight twins were really confused. At first at the beginning of Amity's dating Luz why Amity was into Luz. When they did all the same mischievous things that Luz did. Somehow it's different when it's coming from Luz! Including pranks which would get on their nerves a little bit!

Amity has a small rivalry with Mattholomue for class council. However, it's not nearly as intense as that of his and Gus's rivalry or Amity's forced rivalry with Boscha due to her mom and Boscha's mom still competing since Hexside days.

At one point Emira and Edric felt like they were becoming the third wheel to their own sister due to her dating Luz and tried desperately to get her attention or make her mad but nothing was working. So they sat her down and expressed their concerns and she quickly came to their rescue and promised both of them she would never abandon them for her love.

Amity schemes to get Ed and Em to show affection to each other. It’s not horrible or invasive I don’t think cause since the twins are pretty hands-on and affectionate anyway. It works. But the gist of it is that they’ll be good hugging her tightly and she somehow squeezes out and sneaks away, but somehow leaves Em and Ed hugging one another and then they jump back at one another disgusted and shout her name. Which just leaves her laughing at them.

Has Nightmares about Hooty's kidnapping and will never forget it.

Amity's hair used to once a time be as green as her sibling's hair, but the queen of not touching up her roots let it fade over time to be the light shade we saw in season 1.

Amity is not a fan of medicine and does not like to willingly take it much; but if she absolutely must she will force herself to do so, however, she will not give anyone else an easy time giving it to her. She’s just never liked the taste of any.

Amity's been a bit of a chaotic goofball since she was a child, but living with a mother like Odalia it's not only hard for her to express herself, but Emira and Edric have a hard time too. However, she became playful and teasing when she started dating Luz. She didn't really change in that since of rekindling her childhood she just became more of the person she really wanted to be. That fun-loving side was always there someone just had to come along and help coax it out of her.

(I think that's beautiful because there are so many saying Amity "lost her personality" I would argue she just thrived to become more of who she was hiding from the world. Maybe she hides behind a cool front, but she's a goofball at heart.)

Amity magically enchants her favorite black nail polish so it never chips. A trick learned from Odalia. Appearances are key! Also, AMITY HAS FANGS. We were robbed.

When Ghost knows Amity is emotionally vulnerable and needs familia love she will grab the Blights Emira, Edric, Alador, | minus Odalia (sometimes) and with her teeth or her claws or grappling their pant legs in her fangs lead them to her

Amity gets as sleepy as Alador.

Tries to keep a perfect sleep schedule.

(My) Amity kept the star ⭐️ and moon pajamas!

Strawberries are Amity's favorite human fruit.

Amity had no choice but to hold her twin siblings' hands while growing up when they went out somewhere. If they decided to sneak off somewhere too they might often take her along while she pulled back with her heels on the ground against the grain, but it was for her own good and safety.

[thistledown-au-warriors]

fire and ice - chapter 27

< Chapter 26 || Index || Chapter 28 >

Violet Fang and Stone Pelt rushed forward and joined Fore Heart in a defensive row, and the queens lined up behind them. Fire Heart saw Blazing Cinder hobbling to join them, but Sand Storm leaped down from the Highrock and meowed to the small gray cat as she raced by. Blazing Cinder scrabbled clumsily back into the healers' den with a wounded expression as Sand Storm joined Violet Fang's side.

The elders grabbed the kits, bundled them into the nursery, and squeezed inside after them. Brindle Face picked up Cloud Tail in her jaws and passed him to Hop Speckle. Golden Flower protested before going into the nursery while Frost Shine and Rose Fall followed Brindle Face. The three mollies tugged at the brambles with their paws, ignoring the thorns, and covered the entrance before turning to join the rest of the Clan in the clearing. Fire Heart arched his back and hissed at Broken Tail. “You lost the last time we fought, and you’ll lose again!”

“Never!” Broken Tail spat back. “You might have taken my Clan away from me, but you can’t kill me — I have more lives than you!”

“One ThunderClan life is worth ten of yours!” Fire Heart growled. The ThunderClan warriors yowled and the clearing exploded into battle.

Fire Heart leaped straight for Broken Tail and grasped the dark brown tabby with his claws. Life as an outlaw had treated the former Clan leader harshly — Fire Heart could feel the ribs of the flea-bitten tom beneath his fur. But Broken Tail was still strong. He twisted around and sank his teeth into Fire Heart’s hind leg. Fire Heart yowled and hissed with rage, but kept his grip. Broken Tail struggled forward, scrabbling with his paws on the frozen ground. Fire Heart felt his claws raking along Broken Tail's bony flanks as the rogue warrior ripped himself free. Fire Heart lunged after him, but other claws were grasping at his hind leg. He looked over his shoulder to see who it was. Claw Strike crouched there, staring at Fire Heart with narrowed, mocking eyes.

Fire Heart looked back at him in disbelief. He had never expected to see this cat again. He forgot Broken Tail instantly. It was Claw Strike who had killed Leaf Spots in cold blood in order to steal Frost Shine’s kits for Broken Tail. Rage roared in Fire Heart’s ears. He twisted around and threw himself on top of the scrawny brown tom.

Fire Heart hardly noticed the pain in his leg as he tore it free from Claw Strike’s grasp and flew at him. The tom reared up and flailed his wide front paws. Thorn-sharp claws caught Fire Heart behind his ear. Pain ripped through him like fire, and he staggered. Claw Strike was on him in an instant, pinning Fire Heart to the ground and sinking his teeth into the back of his neck.

Fire Heart screeched in agony. Suddenly the weight was wrenched off his back. Fire Heart sprang to his paws and spun around. Gray Stripe! The gray warrior stood motionless, his eyes filled with horror. Claw Strike’s body hung limply from his jaws. Gray Stripe opened his mouth and Claw Strike fell to the ground, dead. 

Both toms backed away from the lifeless body. The cat that Fire Heart felt so much rage for, who had been trying to kill him heartbeats ago… was now a corpse. It could've been me who killed him , Fire Heart realized with a chill, if Misty Step hadn't stopped me that day . In this case, it seemed like Claw Strike wouldn't have given up without taking a life. But Gray Stripe had taken his instead, to save him.

Fire Heart gave himself a shake, heartbeat fast once more. They weren't safe yet. He took a step forward. “Gray Stripe! Is Blue Fur with you?” he asked urgently.

Gray Stripe shook his head, barely out of his shock. “She sent me back to fetch Tiger's Claw.” he replied. “We found bones. Blue Fur believed she recognized Broken Tail’s stench on a tuft of fur caught on a bramble nearby, and guessed he must be leading the rogue cats.”

A hiss sounded nearby and two cats crashed into Fire Heart. He leaped out of the way. It was Frost Shine battling with another of the attacking cats. The molly was fighting with all the power of StarClan. These were the cats who had stolen her kits. Hate shone in her eyes as she struggled. Fire Heart held himself back — Frost Shine didn’t need his help. A moment later the rogue warrior was sent screeching away, through the bracken camp wall.

Frost Shine chased after him, but Fire Heart called her back. “You have given him enough wounds to remember you!” There was no need to litter their territory with corpses. The molly skidded to a halt by the bracken wall and turned, her sides heaving and her white fur stained with her enemy’s blood.

Another rogue warrior screeched past Fire Heart and headed for the camp wall. Stone Pelt and Rose Fall chased after him and managed to give the mottled tabby a fierce blow before he let him scrabble out of the camp. 

Sand Storm had a rogue warrior pinned to the ground. The tom was lying motionless beneath her. Watch out! thought Fire Heart, remembering his favorite trick of letting an enemy think he had won. But Sand Storm was not deceived. When the tom leaped to his paws, she was ready. She sprang off him, and then lunged, grasping the warrior with her claws to flip him over and rake his belly with her hind legs. Only when he squealed like a kit did she let go of him. The rogue tore out of the camp entrance, still wailing.

There was an eerie moment of stillness. The ThunderClan cats stood in silence and stared at the blood and fur that was scattered around the clearing. In the middle lay Claw Strike's body.

Where was Broken Tail? Fire Heart spun around in alarm, scanning the camp. Could he have broken into the nursery? He was about to spring toward the bramble den when a wretched howl from Violet Fang's den tore the air. Fire Heart tore across to the fern tunnel. Blazing Cinder! He raced into the den, expecting the worst, but saw instead Broken Tail lying in a heap on the ground. The old healer stood over him.

Broken Tail’s eyes were closed and bloody. Fire Heart saw his sides heave once, and stop moving. He recognized from the deep stillness in the rogue warrior’s body that he was losing a life.

Violet Fang’s claws were unsheathed and glistened red. Her face was twisted and her eyes glazed.

Suddenly Broken Tail gasped and began to breathe again. Fire Heart waited for Violet Fang to lunge at him with another killing bite, but she hesitated. Broken Tail didn’t get up.

Fire Heart ran to the healer’s side. “Aren't you going to finish him off?” he whispered. “He murdered his father, banished you from your Clan, killed your kin and tried to kill you.”

“It’s not his last life.” she rasped. “And even if it were, I couldn’t kill him.”

“Why not? I'm sure StarClan would understand...” Fire Heart could not believe her words. The name Broken Tail had always made this old molly bristle with rage. 

Violet Fang dragged her gaze from Broken Tail and looked at Fire Heart. Her eyes clouded with pain and grief as she murmured. “He is my son.”

Fire Heart felt the ground lurch under his paws. “But… you said healers are forbidden from having kits.” he blurted out.

“I know.” answered Violet Fang. “I never intended to have kits. But then I fell in love with Shadow Ragged Claws.” Her voice was thick with sorrow. Suddenly Fire Heart thought back to the battle when Broken Tail was driven out of the ShadowClan camp. Just before he fled, the cruel leader had told Violet Fang that he had murdered his father. Violet Fang had been devastated, and now Fire Heart understood why.

“There were three kits in my litter.” Violet Fang went on. “But only Broken Tail survived. I gave him to a ShadowClan queen to bring up as her own. I thought that losing two of my kits was punishment from StarClan for breaking the warrior code. But I was wrong. My punishment wasn’t that two of my kits died. It was that this one survived!” Violet Fang looked in disgust at Broken Tail's bleeding body. “And now I cannot kill him. I must accept my fate, as StarClan wishes it.”

Violet Fang staggered, and Fire Heart thought she was going to collapse. He pressed his body against her flank to support her and whispered. “Does he know you’re his mother?”

Violet Fang shook her head.

Broken Tail began to wail pitifully. “I can’t see!” Fire Heart realized with horror that the rogue cat’s eyes had been scratched beyond repair.

He cautiously approached the rogue. Broken Tail lay still, eyes covered with his paws. Fire Heart poked him with a forepaw. “Don’t kill me.” the rogue whined. 

Fire Heart backed away, feeling a shudder of revulsion at the warrior’s fear. This cat who had done so much harm with no remorse was now reduced to a terrified creature begging for his own life.

Violet Fang took a deep breath. “I will see to him.” She walked over to her wounded son, grasped him by the scruff of his neck, and dragged him to the nest that Patchy Shade had left.

Fire Heart let her go. He wanted to check that Blazing Cinder was all right. He caught sight of a dark shape moving inside the split rock where the healers slept. “Blazing Cinder?” he called.

She poked her head out.

“Are you okay?” Fire Heart asked.

“Have the rogue cats gone?” she whispered.

“Yes, except Broken Tail. He’s badly injured. Violet Fang is seeing to him.” He waited for Blazing Cinder's shocked reaction, but she just shook her head slowly and stared at the ground.

“Are you okay?” Fire Heart repeated.

“I should have fought alongside you.” her voice was choked with shame.

“You would have been killed!”

“Maybe.” The small cat’s eyes were full of despair. “But I wouldn’t have minded being killed. What good am I like this? I’m just a burden on this Clan if I can't even fight to defend it.”

Fire Heart felt a thorn-sharp pang of pity and horror. He searched for words to comfort her, but before he could speak, Sand Storm crashed through the bracken. Her face showed that she'd overheard Blazing Cinder's words.

"Sand Storm…" the small apprentice breathed.

"Don't ever say that again." Sand Storm meowed, firmly but also softly. The ginger molly marched straight for her apprentice, stopping less than a tail-lenght in front of her. "It's a great gift to me that you are alive. I wouldn't forgive myself if you weren't."

Blazing Cinder looked at her with wide, watering blue eyes. "But… Sand Storm, Fire Heart said I could be a warrior if I wanted, but… I already did before the accident and I just proved myself too dumb to listen to anyone and-"

"Hush." Sand Storm placed her chin on top of the gray molly's head. "Fire Heart was right, you'll be a great warrior. I'll train you, like I promised I would, as soon as you heal."

"But I…" Blazing Cinder's voice cracked, and she dug her face into her mentor's chest fur. "I did nothing today."

"You did. You were safe, and I could fight better because I knew I had to protect you. I'll always prefer to know you're alive than dead on a battlefield. Not only me, but your siblings and mother too." She pulled the small cat closer. "You'll be a warrior who fights and makes it alive out of a battle, okay? But be safe until then, for me."

Fire Heart heard a sob, and backed away slowly to give them space, realizing he wasn't needed in this exchange.

Violet Fang's rasping mew sounded from the nest where she'd placed Broken Tail. “Fire Heart, you there?” she called. “Fetch me some cobwebs, quickly! And some comfrey root while you're at it.” 

He blinked in surprise, then turned and disappeared inside the rock. He quickly found one of the knobbly roots near the entrance and grabbed it between his teeth, then rushed further in until he could feel cobwebs clinging to his fur and pawed at it until he'd wrapped a paw in them. On three legs he ran back to Violet Fang's side and thrust the cobwebs inside the nest.

“Leave the root here.” ordered Violet Fang. "And now go fetch me Stone Pelt." Fire Heart nodded and turned to leave. 

Hardly any cat had moved in the camp clearing. Fire Heart padded straight to Stone Pelt and meowed. “Violet Fang is tending to Broken Tail's wounds. She called for you.” He ignored someone's gasp of disbelief. Stone Pelt looked over at the healers' den, hesitated, then meowed. "Right. I should be in there." he murmured, rushing to meet his mentor.

Fire Heart looked at the den as the bracken swished behind the gray tom. Sand Storm is in there if Broken Tail tries anything, at least , he thought.

He went over to Gray Stripe. The gray warrior was still staring at Claw Strike's body. “You saved my life.” Fire Heart murmured. “Thank you.”

Gray Stripe lifted his gaze to Fire Heart. “I would give my life for you.” he answered simply.

Feeling choked, Fire Heart watched his friend turn and walk away. Perhaps their friendship was not over after all.

The sound of paws pounding through the gorse tunnel broke into his thoughts. Blue Fur came rushing into the camp, followed by Pale Tail, Dusty Earth and Swift Bird. Fire Heart felt his shoulders droop with relief at the sight of his Clan leader. She looked around at the blood-spattered clearing, her eyes wide, until her gaze rested on Claw Strike's body. “Broken Tail attacked?” she meowed.

Fire Heart nodded.

“Is he dead?”

“He’s with Violet Fang and Stone Pelt.” Fire Heart answered, forcing out the words in spite of his exhaustion. “He’s been wounded — his eyes.”

She frowned. “And the other rogue warriors?”

“We chased them off.”

“Are any of our Clan badly hurt?” Blue Fur demanded, looking once more around the clearing. The cats shook their heads. “Good.” she meowed. “Dusty Earth, Swift Bird, take this body out of the camp and bury it. No healers or elders need be present. A rogue doesn't deserve to be buried with the honor of StarClan ritual.”

Swift Bird and Dusty Earth began to drag Claw Strike toward the tunnel.

“Are the elders safe?” Blue Fur asked.

“They’re in the nursery.” Fire Heart told her. As he spoke a rustling sounded from the bramble den, and Sparrow Nest appeared, followed by the other kits and elders. Fire Heart saw Cloud Tail tumble out and scamper excitedly across the clearing to Brindle Face. She greeted him with a brisk lick, and the kit turned to watch Claw Strike's body as it disappeared away through the tunnel.

“Is that a dead cat?” the kit asked curiously. “Can I see?”

“Hush.” whispered Brindle Face, tucking her tail around him.

“Where’s Tiger's Claw?” Blue Fur asked.

“He’s taken a party to attack a ShadowClan patrol.” Fire Heart explained. “We found bones on our patrol. They smelled of ShadowClan so Tiger's Claw decided to attack. I sent Bracken Leaf to stop him when Violet Fang realized it was Broken Tail’s scent on them.”

“Bracken Leaf?” meowed Blue Fur, narrowing her eyes. “Even though he might have to cross the Thunderpath?”

“We needed all the warriors in camp. There was no one else to send.”

Blue Fur nodded, the concern in her eyes giving way to understanding. “You didn’t want to leave the camp unguarded?” she meowed. “You did well, Fire Heart. I think Broken Tail hoped to lure all our warriors away from the camp. We found bones, too.”

“Gray Stripe told me.” Fire Heart looked around for his friend, but Gray Stripe had disappeared.

“Send Violet Fang to me when she’s finished with Broken Tail.” Blue Fur ordered. She pricked her ears at the noise of more paws in the gorse tunnel. Tiger's Claw came racing into the camp, followed by White Flower and the rest of the raiding party. Fire Heart craned his neck to peer around the warriors until he saw Bracken Leaf, right at the back. The young apprentice looked exhausted but unhurt. Fire Heart let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“Did Bracken Leaf reach you before you found a patrol?” asked Blue Fur, walking over to her deputy.

“We hadn’t even entered their territory.” Tiger's Claw answered. “We were just about to cross the Thunderpath.” His eyes narrowed. “Was that Claw Strike they were burying?”

Blue Fur nodded.

“Then Bracke Leaf was right.” meowed the deputy. “Broken Tail was planning to attack the camp. Is he dead too?”

“No. Violet Fang is tending to his wounds.”

“Surely not!” Mossy Patch exclaimed, exchanging a glance with Black Leopard beside her.

Tiger's Claw’s face darkened. “Tending to his wounds?” he snarled. “We should kill him, not waste time making him better!”

“We’ll discuss that once I’ve spoken to Violet Fang.” meowed Blue Fur calmly.

“You can discuss it with me now, Blue Fur." The healer molly padded into the clearing, her head drooping with exhaustion.

“Have you left Broken Tail alone?” growled Tiger's Claw, his amber eyes flashing.

Violet Fang raised her head and looked at the dark warrior. “Sand Storm and Stone Pelt are guarding him. And I’ve given him poppy seeds, so he’ll sleep for a while. Broken Tail is blind now, Tiger's Claw. There’s no way he’ll try to escape. His injury hasn't healed and he doesn't know how to navigate being blind. He’d die of hunger in a week, if a fox or a gang of crows didn’t kill him first.”

“Well, that makes it easier.” Tiger's Claw snarled. “We won’t have to kill him ourselves. We can let the forest deal with him.”

Violet Fang turned to Blue Fur. “We cannot let him die.” she meowed.

“Why not?” Blue Fur challenge, eyes cold. "He's a murderer."

Fire Heart held his breath as he watched the leader and deputy stare at Violet Fang. He wondered if the healer was going to tell Blue Fur that Broken Tail was her son.

“If we did, we would be no better than he is.” replied Violet Fang calmly.

Tiger's Claw’s tail flicked in anger. "That's fox-dung!" He spat.

Blue Fur let out a humorless chuckle. "How, exactly, would we be any worse?" She asked, her tone almost mocking. "That cat endangered and killed kits. He drove out a whole Clan. Killed his own father. We don't have to throw him in the woods - if we kill him now, it would be merciful compared to what he deserves."

Violet Fang seemed to barely be able to contain her shock, but Fire Heart could only stare at his leader in horror. Kill a cat in cold blood? How could any of this be part of what a Clan cat should do? Where was the honor in meaning to kill a cat and carrying it out? He gulped. Would Violet Fang have to watch her only kit be killed?

"My Thunder, if may I speak?" White Flower stepped out of the crowd. Blue Fur looked at him like he'd snuck up on her. The white warrior hesitated, unsure, but went on. “It would be a burden on our Clan to look after him, and it's more than what a cat like him deserves, yes. But Violet Fang is right — if we send him out into the forest to the predators, or kill him now when he can't fight back, StarClan will know we have stooped as low as he.”

"He's not helpless. Broken Tail is a danger as long as he breathes." Tiger's Claw shot back, eyes blazing. "Would you really consider keeping this rogue inside our camp?”

With a pang, Fire Heart couldn’t help agreeing with the dark warrior’s words. The thought of killing Broken Tail appalled him, and he'd never taken a life before himself, but Broken Tail was a fearsome enemy, even in his current situation. Keeping him in the camp would be difficult and dangerous for all the members of the Clan.

"ThunderClan warriors are capable. It won't be easy, but we can keep him prisoner. We've done so before." White Flower meowed, looking the deputy in the eye. "A warrior needs not to kill."

Blue Fur seemed to flinch, turning her face away from her kin, eyes shut. The air was filled with tense silence as the ThunderClan leader's tail twitched in thought.

Finally, her meow sounded in the clearing.

“Is he really blind?” Blue Fur asked Violet Fang.

“Yes, he is.”

“Does he have other wounds?”

Fire Heart replied this time. “I clawed him pretty badly.” he admitted. He looked over to Violet Fang and was relieved when the old molly dipped her head just enough for him to know she forgave him for wounding her son.

“How long till they heal?” asked Blue Fur.

“About a moon, maybe more for his eyes.” Violet Fang answered.

White Eye stepped forward. “Blue Fur.” she meowed in her croaky old voice. “In the past we have sometimes kept prisoners for many moons. We could do it again.” Fire Heart remembered that Violet Fang herself had been a prisoner when she first came to the camp. He waited for the healer to remind Blue Fur of this, but she said nothing.

The blue molly opened her eyes. She glanced at White Flower quickly, then raised her chin.

“Very well, then. You may nurse him until he heals, Violet Fang. After that we will discuss his future again. And from now on, no cat must use his title. He's just Broken Tail. We cannot take away the lives that StarClan gave him, but this cat is no longer a Clan leader.” 

White Flower dipped his head. Fire Heart saw Violet Fang let go of a breath she'd been holding, although there was no relief coloring her expression, only weariness. The Clan began to disperse, concerned murmurs rippling through the clearing.

As Blue Fur began to pad to her den, Tiger's Claw tried to speak to her, anger twisting his face, but she cut him off. “It is decided!” Blue Fur spat without looking at him, a strange glint in her eyes. “Broken Tail stays.”

[kytiapseud]

Gaze, Chapter 4

Chapter list Next

Pairing: Roman/Logan/Virgil

wordcount: 2440

Notes: Notes: A Role Reversal inspired by @edupunkn00b 's work 'Beside Me'. So, I seemed to have added part of this chapter on the previous post before I'd finished editing it. Oops? I'll try to be more careful of that.

Anyways, I added this to my Halloween series on ao3. So should I add the Halloween tag when I post this on tumblr now?

Also, I had trouble deciding initially who to put in what roles. Some of them I am still itching to try so I may do more. I'm considering making them one shots based on certain scenes. I have two in mind at the moment, both would be different reversals. I think I may work on the first one when it gets closer to when that initial scene would be for this one.

After the door shut behind them, Roman turned. He saw how Logan’s bedroom was just before a balcony-like hallway that faced a massive open area. He hadn’t even realized that they were on a second story. Roman looked over the railing in front of them down at the floor below. The view reminded Roman of the second story of Belle’s library from Beauty and the Beast for some reason. He could see there was grandeur to the rest of Logan’s home. He found himself really hoping he’d be able to get a tour of the place.

Logan stood next to him and threaded their fingers together. He smiled at Roman as he gently squeezed their held hands. Roman smiled and squeezed back. Logan had seemed like a man on a mission in that moment as he led the way down the stairs. A clear destination in mind.

 Logan brought them to a massive kitchen of all things. He let go to walk over and take down two goblets from a hanging rack next to the counter. Roman watched him in confusion. Logan glanced at Roman and stopped midturn to one of the refrigerators.

“Ah…I seem to have gotten ahead of myself,” Logan said.

“We can have-or, what were you planning to pour in there?” Roman asked, pointing at the goblets. He didn’t know if Logan was fancy enough to want to drink a blood substitute like it was wine. Logan nodded and went back to the refrigerator.

“We can drink other fluids aside from blood,” Logan said as he pulled out a glass bottle. “In fact, we need to.”

He turned back over and walked to where the goblets were. At the mention of drinking Roman unconsciously licked along the edges of his teeth. Logan smiled.

“Some prefer alcohol, I’m a fan of whiskey myself.” He poured a generous amount from the bottle into each glass.

 “But I thought this might be better for our chat. Here, taste.”

Roman picked up the glass closest to him and brought it to his lips. But as the sweet scent hit him, he looked up with a confused smile on his face.

“You like pineapple juice?” Roman asked.

Logan smirked. “Yes.”

Roman took a sip and leaned on the counter. He looked around at the various appliance and other kitchenware he didn’t know the name of. He wasn’t a big cooking person. He knew he should get better at it, especially when he lived in an apartment. He’d been meaning to get better with it.

“So, I was admittedly surprised to see you have a grand kitchen,” Roman said. Logan hummed and drank from his own glass.

“Virgil eats,” he said. Logan looked into his goblet and swirled the yellow liquid inside.

“I don’t mind cooking for him.”

Roman nearly bit his lip before remembering how his fangs pierced his lip last time.

“If it’s alright for me to ask…, I mean I don’t want to get too personal-“

Logan smiled at Roman. He leaned over the counter between them and ran his thumb over Roman’s lips, just grazing a canine.

“My blood runs through your veins, Roman. There is no such thing as ‘too personal’ between us now.”

Roman stared into the heat of his silver gaze and swallowed hard. Getting lost in his gaze proved to be distracting as he nearly forgot what they were talking about.

“Ask what you will,” Logan said, bringing his hand back down again.

Roman took a sip of juice to buy time and let his mind get back on track.

He spoke slowly, hesitating,

“You said that Virgil doesn’t love you…” He reached for Logan’s hand.

“But do you love him?”

Logan was quiet for a moment, looking at Roman’s hand over his. He shifted his hand and threaded their fingers together. He set aside his drink. Then he looked up at Roman.

“I don’t know,” Logan admitted. He sighed. With his other hand, he traced each of Roman’s fingers.

“I know it’s not my fault he changed, it’s mine.”

Roman felt the way that tugged at his chest, seeing that void of despair return to Logan’s eyes. What he would give to be able to slay the troubles of his love. Logan whispered,

“I loved the man he used to be.”

Roman hurried around the counter. He nearly slid over it, but had the mind to be careful of their drink glasses. He pulled Logan close to him. Thankfully physical affection was something that had always come naturally to him. Roman sighed as Logan sank into his embrace.

“Is there really not a way to get him out of your thrall?” Roman asked.

Logan let out a shaky sigh. He leaned his cheek against Roman’s shoulder and traced his collarbone.

“There are those who say it’s a possibility if I turn him…but apparently it’s not guaranteed to work.”

Roman’s eyes fluttered at Logan’s small touches. They nearly felt like a tease. He fought to slow his breathe as he continued.

“Well, what was it like for you? Do you remember feeling changed at all when you…?” Roman asked.

Logan stiffened in his arms.

“I…it has been so long that I can hardly remember my mortal life.”

Roman blinked.

“Oh…” Roman resisted the urge to immediately ask a bunch of questions about that.

“Really? Sorry,” Roman looked down at Logan, “I don’t mean…”

Logan shook his head. He reached up and stroked Roman’s cheek.

“Do not worry, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

Roman swallowed dryly, He was affected by the soft and almost intenseness to Logan’s expression. Encouraged by the reassurances, Roman gathered his courage.

“If it’s been so long…how old are you?” Roman asked. He remembered Logan’s remark about Roman being young, and wondered just how young that was to Logan.

Logan subtly stepped back, but without leaving Roman’s arms. He watched Roman carefully as he said,

“I am over 400 years old.”

A choking sound escaped from Roman’s throat.

“O-oh, that’s…,” He cleared his throat. “Okay…I think I’ve heard stories say that Dracula was supposed to be that age.” Roman had probably heard Remus spout that at one point. It seemed like the kind of story he would have read.

Roman noticed Logan flinch at the mention of Dracula though.

“Oh, sorry. Did you like know him, or well, Dracula isn’t real though…right?”

Logan’s expression was hard to read as he quietly answered.

“The one I knew went by many names, Dracula being popularized by the novel…but I called him Remy.”

-

Logan was glad he got the chance to explore in Remy’s castle. He started wandering first in the top level, not traversing far from their room at first. He came across a mostly empty room with a grand bed that was well layered and looked quite comfortable. At the other end of the room was a large mirrored wardrobe. The lack of anything else in the room felt strange. Logan approached the wardrobe and then froze when he noticed he had no reflection. Right. He had heard that was another feature of vampires. He felt the unconscious shake of his hands at the realization. After waiting a moment for them to still, he tugged the wardrobe doors open.

He was surprised to  find a rack stuffed with clothing in various styles. Logan ran his hands over the clothing curiously, admiring the different textures. These were fine clothes, which meant expensive. Logan frowned as he looked down at his own woven tunic and loose leggings. They were the only clothes he owned before coming here.

 It wouldn’t have been the first time he felt like he didn’t belong. That it would have been better to have been born into a different class. Not even out of greed. Just, his interests in gaining knowledge of everything were hard to reach monetarily. He had been lucky his mother had found a reading tutor for him at some point when he was a kid. And then the count had been overly generous to give Logan glasses he needed. He had felt undeserving but immensely grateful, to be able to see better. Even now when he didn’t need them anymore with vampire sight, he wanted to wear them.

Logan shook his head, he didn’t need to think about that right then. He found himself wondering who wore these fine clothes. Remy surely didn’t use the mirror. There were a variety of styles Logan had never seen Remy wear. He was also fairly sure that Remy had lived alone before. Logan at least hadn’t encountered anyone else in the several days he’d been at the castle now.

Logan’s hands trailed over the clothes. They lingering on one particularly enticing dark blue silk shirt. He pulled it from the wardrobe and held it up to the moonlight that poured in from the windows. That’s when his eyes caught sight of the blood near the collar.

 He stared at it then brought it closer to the window where the light was a little brighter. Yes, that’s definitely dried blood there. He quickly returned to the wardrobe and began to examine each of the clothes in there. Most of them had small dabs of blood near the collars, some at the wrists. He stared at the shirt in his hand then at the rack in the wardrobe again. His head swiveled, looking at the large bed at the other end of the room. That would explain why the room was so empty.

Well, Logan should have known this was a possibility. Remy was a vampire, and the stories had to come from somewhere. This must be how Remy fed. And now he was so close to such a creature, was one himself.

How many people had once lived in this room? How long did they stay each time before Remy fed? Logan’s chest tightened and his throat closed up. He dropped the dark blue shirt and stumbled backward until his shoulders hit a stone wall. He then slid down to the floor and pulled at his hair. He would not cry. Why Logan as so determined not to cry when he was here, he wasn’t sure. Trying to hold it back gave him a headache though, which just made him feel worse. He couldn’t think about breathing. His mind stuck on his discovery and what this could mean. Those people had died in this room, hadn’t they? Was this the expectation now that Logan was a vampire? He would have to drain captured humans? Is that the only way he could get nourishment? Would Remy force him to do so?

Logan lost track of how long it had been before he felt cool, strong hands covering his. They gently pried Logan’s hands out of his hair.

“Shh, draga, it’s alright, you’re safe.”

Remy crouched in front of him. He gripped Logan’s hands together in his own and gently kissed his fingers.

“Breathe for me, draga. That’s it. Just breathe. That’s all you need to do.”

Remy moved both of Logan’s hands into one of his own to prevent more hair pulling. He sat on the floor and pulled Logan into his lap, cradling him. He wrapped both arms tightly around Logan and pinned his hands between their bodies. Remy rocked him back and forth, shushing into his hair, murmuring,

“Just breathe for me babe, just breathe…”

After a long while, Logan finally got a hold of his breath. Remy gently cupped Logan’s face with both hands and turned Logan toward him.

“Now, draga mea, would you like to talk about what has you so upset?”

Logan’s eyes shifted over to the still open wardrobe and the dark blue shirt in a heap on the floor.

“Ah,” Remy whispered. “You found my pets’ clothes.”

“Your pets!?” Logan exclaimed, pulling out of Remy’s embrace and scrambling across the floor.

His hand brushed against the dark blue silk, but he pushed it away from him.

“Is that how you refer to your victims? I haven’t seen anyone else here besides you. Did-did you kill them all?” Logan asked, struggling to keep his voice from shaking.

In a blink Remy was next to him again. His arms wrapped tightly around Logan’s body, rubbing his back.

“Shh, shh, draga mea, no…”

He pressed kisses against Logan’s hair, his face, his neck…

“Your concern is endearing but misplaced.”

Remy drew Logan even closer, nestling him sideways against his chest. He draped on long leg over his lap.

“Every single one of them was a hunter who would have staked me if given the chance.”

Logan frowned and gripped Remy’s shirt. The though of someone harming Remy hurt deep inside him and throughout his body. Remy continued in a soft voice.

“Instead, I make my enemies my friends,” He smirked a little as he referred to making them his friends.

“I bring them under my thrall and they willingly give me what I need. It’s much nicer that way.”

“But, how is that willingness if you’re controlling them?” Logan asked.

Remy smiled and showed his fangs.

“Control is a strong word for it. I make them happy.” Remy nuzzled the side of Logan’s neck.

“It’s a fair trade. I-we-give them more pleasure than they ever thought possible. They give blood to sustain us. That’s all it is. It’s much more fun that way anyways.”

Remy gently lifted Logan’s chin until their eyes met.

“That’s all it needs to be.”

Remy turned and suddenly called out, only slightly louder,

“You may come in now, my pet.”

The door to the chamber opened. Remy twisted around Logan on the floor, straddling him for a moment before standing. He pulled Logan up with him. A man waited in the doorway, eyes fixed on Remy’s. Logan breathed in deeply, tasting the sweet musky scent that poured off of him. He ran his tongue against his on fangs, wondering what the man might feel like in his arms. The man stood at attention, staring at Remy, lips parted. “Is it time?” he asked with an eager smile.

Remy watched how Logan’s eyes were trained on the man. He felt Logan’s muscles quiver under his fingertips as he stroked his spine. Remy let his hand rest at the small of his back. He leaned close and allowed his teeth to graze his fleshy lobe as he whispered into Logan’s ear,

“Are you hungry, draga mea?”

Logan growled low in his throat. Remy grinned and kissed him. He ran his tongue over Logan’s teeth and dragged a hand through his hair. He broke away and turned, addressing the man in the doorway. “On the bed.”

[random-chaos-and-stuff]

I have a theory

I have a theory that Night furies (as well as Light furies) evolved from aquatic dragons, and had aquatic ancestors. I also believe that Night furies and Light furies shared a common ancestor dragon, and branched off when one group moved into deep water (making Night furies) while the other moved into more shallow costal water (making Light furies) where they begin to change to match their environments. But now onto my proof for Night furies having evolved from aquatic ancestors, as well as some theories on their biology.

NIGHT FURIES

I have several pieces of evidence that I believe support my theory. 1. Night fury plasma blasts are shown to work under water, unlike normal dragon fire. If they evolved this underwater, it would make sense that they used a form of fire/blast that could be used under water. They can also echolocate, which would be useful in water, especially deep ocean environments for communication and finding prey. I think that the ear nubs could have been used for both sensing the echolocation, as well as some slight steering, and aiding in communication among the dragons.

2. The shape. They are extremely streamlined, very smooth and long, with no large and bulky horns or claws, or even fangs. Their tail fins would probably have helped them swim in the water, along side their wings and upper tail fins. These traits would also be helpful on land when flying, which is why they kept them. Plus, they have more flexible scales instead of bulky plates, and rather round spines they could have used to help control direction. I also think their dark scales would have been from living in deep water, but helped when living on land at night. I also think their retractable teeth would have been helpful for hunting as well as moving eggs under water. I believe that Night Furies could have occasionally risen to the surface, maybe for more hunting, or possibly air, being able to stay underwater most of the time but occasionally rising for more air (maybe having ok gills, but also lungs) every few weeks or something. That would explain why they managed to evolve into land animals after living in the deep sea.

I have even more evidence, and feel free to add any more. Now, onto Light Furies

Light Furies

I believe that they, like the Night Fury, evolved from an aquatic ancestor. But unlike Night furies, they moved into shallow water near the coast instead of deep sea like their cousins. This would explain the light, almost sparkly coloration of them. I also believe that their cloaking would have become stronger there/evolved there as it would help them hunt a lot better, and be beneficial to them. I also think that these shallow coastal waters, especially in areas with reefs, would explain why they are smaller and smoother, with more rounded edges for small spaces and sharp turns. On top of this, I believe that they would have maintained their aquatic lifestyle a bit longer than the Night Furies, as well as kept a semi-aquatic lifestyle much longer than the Night Furies, only fully leaving the water fairly recently, explaining why they still have the fin ridge and all that.

I don’t know why they would be forced to leave the water, but competition from other dragons/animals, changing environment, or less food could have all played a role in Night Furies (and Light Furies) leaving the water.

Here is a drawing of what I think the aquatic Night Fury ancestor could have looked like.

I believe that they might have had little fins on their front legs, but when they left the water they were no longer useful, as while the wings and tail fins and all that all served a purpose in aiding in flight, the leg fins didn’t, so they slowly lost them, leaving only the residual leg nubs. I also think they could have had some small amount of webbing between the toes of its feet, especially the hind feet, especially because of the almost extended finger like look (and because why not). Also, the wings and fins (especially the tail fins) are more jagged, because at this point they are used for swimming fins instead of aiding in flight (totally not because I screwed up) and are more like fish fins.

Zoom in for better quality, and apologies for any misspellings on the drawing.

[silvaswiftcast]

FFxivWrite2023 Prompt #25: Call it a Day

Characters: Silva Cataracta and Ricmorn Silverkin (Cataracta)

Rating: General

Notes: This scene takes place early in Heavensward. Silva and Ricmorn are NOT in a relationship/courtship at this point in time, but they are very aware of the feelings they have for one another. Things are just complicated as they work through their issues.

Content Warnings/Additional Tags: None.

“Ah— So this is where you wandered off to after dinner, Silv.”

Silva looked up from the small travel journal she was writing in to find Ricmorn standing a yalm or two away, curiosity shining in his sky-blue eyes. She let herself get lost in the glowing orbs for a moment before giving him a timid smile.

“Found my little hiding spot, did you?” she mused, the point of her tail twitching against the cool stone floor.

The tall Auri man flashed her a grin full of bright teeth and fangs. “Seems I have.” He walked forward a few steps, taking care not to wake the pile of dragonets slumbering in a pile nearby. “I promise to keep it a secret if you let me stay for a while. I-I mean, if you're comfortable with—”

Quiet giggles escaped her as she raised her hand, stopping him. “You’re more than welcome to join me, Ric,” she said, hoping to settle his nerves. She watched as the tension in his shoulders fled before looking off to the side, warmth flooding her cheeks. “I would love it, actually. You know I never mind your company.”

She couldn’t tell if it was the red lighting from the mysterious glowstone lamps lining the room she tucked herself in at Anyx Trine or if it was a blush staining his pale skin. His gaze was soft as he looked down at her, full of amusement and fondness. Fondness for her.

And it made her heart skip a few beats.

Silva took a second to collect herself, stashing her journaling supplies back into her bag before patting the space on the ground next to her. Ricmorn crossed what little distance there was between them and sat beside her.

“The old you would have balked at the proposition,” he murmured, continuing their playful banter.

A snort left her. “The old me didn’t know any better. She was… afraid of invading your space and overwhelming you with her presence.”

“The old me didn’t know any better, either. He was a fool who was too stubborn to see the most amazing thing to ever come into his life was right in front of him.”

She blinked, not expecting her fellow Warrior of Light to be so open and honest about his thoughts and emotions. A habit he was trying hard to become better at. Not just for her and what little remained of the Scions but for himself. A habit that showed his growth as a human being and as an individual.

And she loved it.

Silva reached for his palm, carefully wrapping her fingers around his wrist and removing his white leather glove with her other hand. He let her, watching in silence as the protective hand covering came off with ease before she laced her fingers with his. Their hearts raced in time together as sparks of levin danced along their skin.

“If it’s any solace, you’re not the man you once were, Ricmorn,” she told him as she gave his large palm a tender squeeze. “Stubborn, yes — we all are to a fault. But… you’re no fool, not to me.”

They both have done a lot of growing over the last three years. They made it through nasty fights and disagreements, troubling times, and periods where they refused to speak to one another out of fear and anger. And now they were here, edging closer and closer to something neither of them thought possible after everything.

When did they call it a day and finally decide to take this leap of faith?

A few rumbling chuckles escaped him at her kind words, returning the squeeze she gave him. “You are… I’m unsure of how to respond to that, Silva.”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to say anything.”

The white mage reached over, brushing some of her stray purple waves behind an ivory horn. “Even so, pray know it means the world to me that you think so. And… I think deep down, the old you would have been secretly proud of who you are today.”

And deep down, Silva thought so, too.

[sergle]

I'm gonna be real w yall right now, two of my cats had to have dental surgery back-to-back so I'm going to be promoting THE HELL out of my store right now lmao I spent... a lot of money at the vet

[montmartrasse]

What if rain or Swiss being vampire ghouls or something and smelling dews blood on stage…

They would be drooling for the rest of the concert,

Swiss would shove dew into a dressing room and pin him against the door before sinking his teeth into dews neck while pushing his knee between dews legs to make him hard…

I feel like rain would be more shy about it tho,

What do you think?

-🫧

hoo this got away from me once again, but i fucking. i cant. this whole situation. the blood kink girlies me are going crazy.

ty and ily

little dickhead would be so smug about it too. strutting on stage, showing everyone his bloody finger, knowing they can’t do anything about it while they’re still performing, driving them crazy.

nsfw below

aether places a little kiss on it on stage, and fans go crazy at the affectionate moment, unaware of the tent growing behind his guitar. 

once they’re backstage tho - that’s when the fun begins. swiss grabs him immediately, aether following right after and rain shyly trailing behind, and they’re in the boys dressing room. mountain is sitting there already, more than happy to just watch, and maybe touch himself. he’s still a ghoul after all. 

swiss immediately hugs him from behind, yanking his hair and exposing his neck, dewdrop know whats coming and goes limp on swiss, relaxing fully. aether covers the front of him, pushing his knee between dewdrop’s legs, allowing him to put his weight there. swiss’ sharp fangs pierce through the skin of dewdrop’s neck and draw blood immediately, a low groan escapes dew’s mouth. the light pain on his forgotten, replaced by the pleasure on his neck. a ghouls bite works like a vampires bite where the low venom that gets injected feels like an aphrodisiac. he reaches one hand back to swiss, trying to get a grip, failing, he’s held by aether now. swiss has a strong grip across his chest and one hand still on his hair, aether just places his hands on dew’s waist, pulling him closer, encouraging him to grind on his leg. 

rain still shyly hovers by the door, mountain’s hand is already in his pants, stroking his cock while enjoying the show. 

dew fully starts grinding on aether’s thigh once he collects himself a little, the high of the initial bite wearing off a little, swiss does not let go still, his own erection pressing dew’s ass, rutting against him lightly. when he gathers his mind just for a bit, he stares rain dead in the eye, raising the bloody hand, reaching for him. rain obeys pliantly, makes his way to the ghoul in the ghoul sandwich, and approaches them. 

“good boy, don’t be shy,” he growls, cupping rain’s face, blood smearing a little on his jaw. dew sticks his bloodied pink finger along with his ring finger, leaving his thumb and other fingers free to grab rain by his jaw, pushing him down. rain falls to his knees, “so good,” dewdrop says with a rough voice, about to get lost in the pleasure, sensation attacking him from every corner. 

swiss, as if on cue, deepens his bite, drawing even more blood, causing dewdrop to jolt hard and ride aether’s leg harder. satisfied with the reaction he got from the fire ghoul, swiss finally lets go of his neck, removing his teeth, still keeping contact while licking the wound he placed there. aether, almost driven to frenzy by all the smells around him - dewdrop’s precum in his pants, the blood spilling from his neck and fingers, swiss’s venom -  pulls dew hard from his waist, lifting him up so he can wrap his legs around his body and places his mouth on swiss’ bite mark, sucking and licking gently, catching the last droplets of blood mixed with the venom. 

dewdrop feels himself pushing the edge of climax as he removes his hand from rain’s mouth, fully intending on sticking it into aether’s mouth for a final hail mary. aether taken aback by dewdrop’s audacity, grunts around the smaller ghoul’s fingers in his mouth, fully pushes him to swiss, slamming both to the wall behind them, and ruts hard into the ghoul that's wrapped around him. swiss once again finds himself grinding hard against dewdrop’s ass.

pain mixed with pleasure too much to keep holding longer, dewdrop pushes his hips to aether’s body one last time as he cums in his pants, the claws on his hips digging hard on his sides and swiss’s hard cock painfully rubbing against his ass still. 

he drops removes his hand from the now almost feral aether’s mouth, and drops his head to swiss’s shoulder, body all limp once again, relying on his mates for support. 

rain lets a low whimper escape his mouth, left out from the majority of the fun, still on his knees, mouth open and ready for use. 

“nice show, congrats guys” comes a deep voice from the couch, mountain still rubbing his cock, now out of his pants. 

dew snaps to life, head lifting from where it was resting, a wicked grin plastered on his stupid face 

“we’re just starting, care to join?”

they have a long night ahead.

[amerrierworld]

Swaddled

Summary: we interrupt your regularly scheduled fic-posting with some urgent soft!alcina 

Characters: Alcina Dimitrescu x gn!reader

Word Count: 1,409

Warnings: absolute tooth-rotting fluff (plus a hint of steam). featuring the (possibly canon??) long-haired Alcina :3

If there was anything you loved nearly as much as Alcina in Castle Dimitrescu, it was her bed. It was large enough to fit two of her with room to spare, and sleeping in it was comfortable beyond belief.

When you were buried beneath the covers and she came into the room, you had to make noise like a hiding kitten to alert her that you were hidden by the massive duvet, so she wouldn’t flop down on the mattress and accidentally squash you.

Alcina had now gotten accustomed to habitually turn back any covers on the beds or couches that she came across, just to double check.

On one such occasion she came into her bedroom and reached over to pull the blankets down, and a sudden, meek squeal of protest made her smile.

You were clinging to her pillows, swaddled in the covers, surrounded by Alcina’s musky, warm scent, and would not have woken up had it not been for the rush of cold air as your cocoon was unraveled. 

“Hello there, little dove,” Alcina whispered as your eyes opened and your face scrunched up, burrowing your head further into the pillow. “You slept through dinner again.”

You enjoyed taking a late afternoon nap, but sometimes when you slept in Alcina’s bed, you kept on dreaming for longer than intended. 

You sat up groggily, hair swept in all directions and watched as Alcina tugged off her gloves and began unpinning her hair from the tight up-do she wore underneath her wide-brimmed hat. 

“Are you hungry?” the giantess asked, sitting at her vanity and thoroughly removing her makeup. “I’ll fetch someone to bring dinner if you’d like.”

You shook your head, watching Alcina as you pressed back into the pillows, bare legs worming underneath the warm covers again. Everything in this room made Alcina look normal-sized, and made you seem like a small dwarf-like creature. All items, from the chairs to the bathroom sink, had been catered to her measurements. 

You preferred to use the regular-sized furniture and rooms in the castle simply for convenience, but when you had the chance, you would always choose Alcina’s bed over yours. Considering that she couldn’t cuddle in your bed like you could in hers, it made the most sense to you.

Long, black hair tumbled from her bun down her shoulders and back and you marveled at the sight. She had a few shorter pieces in the front that she curled and styled to stay in overnight, but tonight seemed rather relaxed, because she brushed through it and left it loose. 

“Is there still room for me there, little dove?” she teased as she walked over to the closet and pulled out a nightgown while gesturing towards the bed. You giggled and spread your limbs like a limp starfish, exclaiming,

“No! Sorry, your bed has been entirely occupied.”

“A shame,” she purred, changing from her creamy dress to an almost pure-white nightgown. Her heels came off and stayed by her vanity chair, and she patted barefoot over to you. “I’ll be forced to use whatever means necessary to reclaim my place.”

“Do whatever you will, I shall never move,” you declared, willing your limbs to stay still, iron-like.

“Whatever, you say?” she drawled, arms coming to plant beside your head, sinking deeper into the soft cushions of the pillows and mattress. You felt your face heat up in surprise as her locks tumbled down and brushed along your shoulders. 

“Perhaps I can be persuasive,” she whispered, full lips pressing against your temple. The smell of her was even stronger now, and you felt your senses tingle as her nose trailed down your face, along your cheekbone. Her larger mouth hovering over yours with a tantalizing smirk.

You felt your body rise as her lips began peppering soft kisses along your lips and chin, but you didn’t bring your arms up around her like you usually did. That made her hum in feigned annoyance, and she kissed your pulse point a bit harder.

Fangs scraped lightly along your skin and you gasped, but just a little.

“Hungry?” you asked, squeezing your eyes shut as a long tongue soothed the skin and suckled over your racing pulse.

“Hmm.. some other time, perhaps,” she replied. Her fingers reached down to your bare legs, the slightest of touches making you buck your hips.

“Come now, darling,” she cooed, her hands wandering and her mouth hot against your skin, “give up and let me ravish you.”

You giggled, and retorted, “never.”

The pillows were off the bed in a second, and suddenly your whole figure was shadowed by Alcina holding you down with the weight of her body. She kicked the duvet further down the bed, exposing your body. She pulled your legs apart,  thumbs rubbing over the inside of your thighs.

“Strong, but ever the fool,” she observed, your fingers grabbling the sheets to not pull her hands to where you were hot and needy. “I can tell you want it, sweetling.”

“Cruel,” you whined as her hands came off of your legs. You expected her to keep kissing you, to hold you down and whisper until you were melting and begging. But instead, her heavy warmth disappeared, and you cracked open an eye to see her sit at the foot of the bed, apparently ready to leave.

“Where are you going?” you asked, as she grabbed a silk robe to put over her nightgown.

“To find other accommodations for the night,” she said, “I’ve clearly lost this battle. You will never budge, it seems.”

Her tone was neutral, but you caught sight of her profile, framed by dark wavy locks, and her lips were pulled into a mischievous smirk.

“No,” you breathed, barely audible. Alcina turned her head away, pushing her arms into the sleeves of the robe.

“What was that?” she asked, but you both knew damn well she heard what you said.

“No!” this time you were the one who pounced, flying up to wrap your arms around her neck from behind before she could stand up.

Her laugh was melodic and soft as you clung to her, face burying in her sweet-smelling hair. 

“You’re mean,” you whined, “we were playing a game. You never sleep without me.”

Your lips pressed underneath her ear, nose worming through her hair and Alcina chuckled deeply.

“Of course we were playing a game, little dove. And now you’ve lost.”

You opened your mouth to retort but only a screech escaped you as Alcina stood, suddenly, lifting you up in the air while holding onto her neck. She plucked you off with flawless ease and then you were being cradled in her arms, her perfect smile showing perfect teeth, and you couldn’t bother being mad at her for tricking you.

“Fine,” you grumbled, crossing your arms, “but you have to make it up to me. I was actually gonna win against you for the first time ever had you not played tricks.”

“I always play tricks, darling,” she said, hands rubbing your form as she settled back against the pillows, you in her arms. You squirmed until she released you and you sat upon her middle staring up into those golden eyes with defiance written all over your face. 

“I suppose that’s true,” you grumbled, “though that doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it.”

She grinned again, her eyes crinkling. You wondered if she ever smiled this much before you had come to stay at Castle Dimitrescu. The thought made your heart beat a little faster. Then you wondered if her senses could pick up on that. Everything about her made you wonder.

“How does my sweet want to reconcile?” Alcina asked, one hand cupping the back of your neck. “I can’t have you stay angry at me forever.”

You raised yourself a little higher and climbed up a bit more so you could press your mouth against hers. Once she was delightfully distracted by your tongue twining with hers, your small hands wandered down to her breasts, running the fingertips over the tops that were exposed to your eyes.

Alcina’s breath came out in a soft, slow gasp, and you continued, pushing the robe off of her shoulders and then the silky straps down her arms, before you cupped them both in your hands, feeling stiff nipples as you sucked her lower lip with a grin.

“I can think of a few things,” you said.

A/N: and that concludes our very urgent announcement. back to business, everyone.

[2goth2moth]

Until You Can't Stand (M!Werewolf x M!Incubus, NSFW)

Big shoutout to @xo-philia for beta-reading this for me!

Word count: 3476

Includes: Marking (biting and scratching to draw blood), mild possessiveness, pet names, knotting, scent kink (kind of), mild praise kink, non-human genitalia, self-lubrication

There was something Luke hated about being a werewolf: mating cycles. The slow, constricting heat that flooded his body every few months, the way he lost control of his shift, the oversensitivity. It interrupted every part of his life, and he hated it. The only solace he could find was the fact that it gave him an excuse to spend the week shut in with his incubus boyfriend.

He opened the door to his apartment, prickling nerves instantly soothed by the comforting smell of home. The small collection of rooms he shared with his boyfriend always smelled nice. They never could quite clean out the scent of spices and bread out of their kitchen, and it seemed to spread to all the other rooms easily. Now, however, with his senses being pushed to their limits, he could pick out all the scents that filled the small apartment: the milk and cardamom from their chai that morning that hung in the air, his own thick musk, his incubus’ clean, pleasant salt. It was stronger than usual, clearly coming from their bedroom. Luke smiled at the thought of Allius being home already. He took his shoes off at the front door, dropped his bag by the table, and went inside.

Their bedroom was small, like the rest of their apartment, and always kept cool (Luke tended to run warm). Allius was sprawled messily on the floor beside their bed in a nest of soft blankets, absentmindedly writing in the margins of a book.

He looked up at the sound of the door opening and smiled brightly. He sat up, keeping one blanket drawn around him, and reached out a hand to Luke.

“Hey, love. I wasn’t expecting you back yet.” Luke sat down on top of the blankets and took Allius’ hand gently. “Don’t you have work today?”

Allius traced his fingertips around Luke’s large nails. “Your mating cycle is starting today,” he said simply. “I wanted to be here for you. I know it’s rough to handle on your own. Besides,” he added, bringing his other hand to Luke’s face, pulling his lips back from rapidly growing teeth. “Can you really be so surprised that I want to be with the man I love right now?”

He chuffed at this, nuzzling into the hand at his face. He was shifting more now, quickly approaching the half-man-half-wolf that he would be for the days of his cycle. Allius continued toying with Luke’s hands and head as his jaw widened and extended, as his nails turned to thick, hard claws, as fur began to grow along his throat and arms. The blanket draped around the demon’s shoulders slipped down to reveal a grey shirt- one of Luke’s grey shirts- worn thin and soft in the washer. It was large on him, falling off his narrow shoulders. A low pang of want rumbled through Luke.

He nipped lightly at Allius’ fingers. “This is unfair. You look too good.”

“Really? This is unfair?” He feigned insult, gasping and dramatically putting the hand that was not being nibbled on over his heart. “And after I went through all the effort of dressing up for you!”

Luke laughed. “‘Dressing up’?” He ran a finger under the shirt’s loose neckline. “This is basically pajamas.”

“Well, you haven’t seen the whole thing yet.”

Luke’s mouth went dry at the idea of “the whole thing”. Allius must have heard his breath catch in his throat, because he kissed him once and backed away from him a little, rising to his knees. The blankets tucked around his legs fell away, exposing...holy shit.

The hem of the shirt fell clean past the middle of his thighs, hiding whatever he was wearing on the bottom, until he pulled the edge up to below his navel. Underneath, he only had black panties, cut high across the hips, with mesh on the sides. His cock was obvious, pressed against the thin fabric, and the sight sent a bolt of heat to Luke’s abdomen.

“Do you want to see more?” Allius asked, fiddling with the fabric in his hands. Luke nodded dumbly.

Crossing his arms at the hem of the shirt, Allius whipped it over his head. His human form was beautiful. Fine, dark hair covered his legs and arms, and ran down his belly to disappear under the panties. Tiny crystals twinkled at his navel and on both of his dusky nipples. He brought a hand up to toy with them one at a time, jaw clenching in pleasure as he teased each nub to full hardness.

Luke had to grind the heel of his palm into his cock to relieve some of the pressure building in his pants. “Holy shit.” He barely noticed the familiar bone-deep grind that came when a fluffy tail began sprouting from the bottom of his spine.

Stepping quietly, Allius settled himself in front of Luke again. He placed his hands primly between them and leaned forward on them to kiss the werewolf softly. A small tongue licked at the seam of his lips. He moaned, letting Allius slip his tongue in fully. Their lips moved together and Luke hummed in contentment at the feeling of that tongue trace over his sharp teeth. He sucked on it, then took Allius’ lower lip in his teeth and bit down, just hard enough to break skin. Allius pulled back with a smile and one last kiss to the corner of Luke’s mouth.

“So? How do you want me?” Allius purred, his form shimmering between human and reptilian, feathered and furred.

Seeing every one of his lover’s gorgeous forms was straining Luke’s already thin self-control. He couldn’t bear to wait another second. “You. Just... you. As yourself.”

Allius grinned devilishly, arching down into the floor as his true form rippled through his body. The skin at his hairline and on his hands and feet burnished to an inky black. Small, humanoid teeth and nails sharpened to fangs and claws, and short nubby horns sprouted from his forehead. A line of shiny, platelike scales grew down his spine, leading into a dextrous tail at the base of his back. He was perfect, every inch the demonic temptor Luke knew him to be.

Luke hardened even more at the sight, his own bushy tail lashing behind him in a combination of distress and arousal. A low, long whine came from the back of his throat. “Stop teasing.”

“Aw, puppy,” the incubus said, crawling to kneel in front of him. “Getting impatient?”

“You know I am,” he replied through gritted teeth. “I’m in my mating cycle, this is just mean.”

Allius’ gaze dropped to his cock, where it was starting to strain against the seam of his sweatpants. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He leaned over, kissing Luke’s cheek, running his small clawed hands over the wolf’s thick thighs. The touch was electric. The air around them was heavy, musky and rich with the pheromones that Luke was putting out. “How quickly do you want to go?”

Luke buried his nose into the crook of Allius’ neck, breathing in, recognizing the now-present floral sweetness of his arousal. He ran a broad, flat tongue over his collarbone. Goosebumps erupted over Allius’ skin. It was getting difficult for the werewolf to remain coherent, but he fought his instincts. “You haven’t fed in a while. What do you need?”

This earned him a firm tap on the side of his head with the demon’s fingertips. “I feed on your pleasure, dummy. I’ll be getting my fill plenty over the next few days. You don’t need to worry about me right now.” His hands came to rest on Luke’s clothed dick. “Now, answer my question: how do you want this to go?”

The slight domineering tone sent a shiver through him. The honest answer was that he wanted everything. Everything Allius would give him, to give Allius everything in return. The short answer…

“I want to fuck you ‘til you can’t stand.”

Allius’ eyes widened slightly before he grinned again. His lips met Luke’s in a kiss, as brief and fierce as it was filthy. Nipping his bottom lip once, the incubus turned around and arched his back. The black cloth of his underwear disappeared between his asscheeks. His tail flicked slowly and playfully as he looked back over his shoulder. “What are you waiting for, alpha? I’m ready.”

Luke grabbed his hip hard in one large, clawed hand. “You know that’s not how it works.”

The demon in front of him looked pointedly at his still-hard cock. “Doesn’t seem like it’s ruining the mood though, does it?” He lowered his chest to the floor and spread his knees slightly, presenting his ass even more obviously. Luke could see the slick soaking through his panties. “Now come on, baby. I thought you said something about ‘until I can’t stand’?”

Licking his lips, Luke pulled the fabric nestled between his asscheeks aside to expose his hole. Slick, sweet-smelling and vaguely pink, ran down his balls. He lapped it up, heightened lupine senses relishing in the scent of his lover. It was intoxicating, and he licked up every drop he could, purposefully avoiding where he wanted to go most. The incubus below him was breathing heavily and pushing back against his face. A growl ripped loose from his throat as his teeth sank into a soft, plush leg. It was torture trying not to break skin, but healing in his demon form, although complete, was strenuous and cost Allius a lot of energy. Luke soothed the area with a slow drag of his tongue.

A high-pitched whimper came from the demon kneeling in front of him. Luke pulled back, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Are you okay?”

A glance at his face showed Allius flushed and sweaty. Spit shone around his mouth where he had clearly been biting his arm to retain some composure. “You’re holding back.”

“Yeah, I know that…”

“Stop it. I want you to mark me. As much as you can. Even if it won’t hold, I want you to make me yours. Wreck me, Luke.”

This command, bitten out as Allius’ chest heaved with deep gasps and his tail lashed impatiently, snapped the remaining threads of his control. Luke snarled loudly and yanked his own pants down his thighs, freeing his cock. He kicked them the rest of the way off and tore his shirt from his body in a fit of impatience. Big, lupine hands dug deep into the meat of the incubus’ ass. Golden blood welled up around his claws and dripped in thin rivulets down the smooth skin of his legs. Allius moaned quietly, shoving his face down into the floor. Luke bent his head back down to lick over his hole again, trying to pull more noises from the demon’s throat. The ring of muscle was already soft and opened to him readily, letting him stick his tongue inside. A particularly strong flick sent the incubus rocking back against him even more insistently. Whimpers were now spilling from his mouth in earnest as he brought one of his hands to rub against his cock through the thin panties.

Luke pulled back from Allius’ ass, licking his lips. A mix of spit and slick covered the bottom of his face and had begun to drip down onto his chest, wetting down his coarse hair. Allius looked back at him again, eyes blown out, and Luke couldn’t help but follow a drop of sweat that ran from his nape down the length of his spine. “Come on, puppy, please.” He was whining at this point, arching his back more, slick still dripping down his balls and thighs.

Biting down hard on his asscheek one last time, Luke lined up the head of his cock, flushed red and leaking pre-cum, with his entrance. “Ready?” He said, leaning over to kiss Allius’ shoulder gently.

Allius tried to buck his hips back onto Luke’s cock himself, but the vice-like grip on his hips kept him from doing much more than wriggling helplessly. “Just fuck me already!”

More golden blood was leaking from where Luke was holding him, more slick coming from his hole. In one swift movement, he plunged into Allius until his hips were sitting flush against his backside. The thrust drove the demon’s whole body forward, chest skidding along the floor. The low grunt that Luke let out was drowned out by Allius’ high-pitched whine.

He was already panting hard at the feeling of Allius’ tight walls around him. A sinuous black tail flicked anxiously as he once again tried to push back on the cock inside him. This wasn’t enough for either of them. Keeping one large hand on the demon’s hip and bracing the other against his back, Luke set a punishing pace into his boyfriend. Each thrust sent jolts through his body as he was driven further and further into the floor.

“AH...fuck!” Wanton sounds of pleasure spilled from Allius’ lips even from where his face was hidden in the crook of his elbow. He was humping back against each stroke, trying to get even more stimulation. His tail was going crazy, winding around the werewolf’s wrists, ankles; even batting frantically at his hip. It took an iron grip around the hand braced against his back. The long fingers and claws spanned nearly the entire width of his waist. Luke pressed his fingertips experimentally into the soft flesh of his demon. Five pinpricks of blood rose to the surface. “Oh, shit. Keep going!”

Luke hooked his claws into the flimsy fabric of the panties that Allius was still wearing. In one rough swipe, he shredded them and pulled the remains off of him, leaving the incubus naked. Resetting His grip on his hips, Luke sank all the way into him before pulling out, leaving only the head of his cock, and thrusting in again. Allius moaned once again, the noise sweet and high-pitched despite how muffled it was. Luke had a problem with this.

He sank his teeth into Allius’ shoulder, tasting the blood spill around them. “Stop fucking hiding. I want to hear you,” he snarled into Allius’ skin. Wrapping his arms firmly around the incubus’ waist and chest, he wrenched him upright onto his knees. “I want everyone to hear you.”

The possessive words made Allius tighten around him. “God, you’re in a mood today,” he choked out, struggling to maintain composure as Luke rammed into him. “So- ahh- territorial.”

Luke dug in everywhere he was holding Allius, leaving bite marks on his neck and deep scratches on his belly and ribs. “You knew this would happen,” he said with a particularly rough thrust. He began pulling Allius’ much smaller body back into him with each drive of his pelvis.

Each stroke was reaching impossibly deeper inside him, and he was slack-jawed and drooling with pleasure. His tail wrapped around one of Luke’s muscular thighs.

“Hnng- ah- ahh...fuck!” Allius’ cock hit his own abdomen with each drive of Luke’s hips, and it left smears of pre-cum on his smooth brown skin. He brought one hand down to harshly stroke his cock. “Of- ah! Of c-course I did . Why- oh- why do you think I look forward to this so much?”

A violent bolt of lust and affection lanced through Luke. He loosened the grip on Allius’ torso to take his nipples in his fingers. He rolled the nubs between his fingertips, tugging on the piercings but careful not to cut the delicate skin. “You’re perfect,” Luke groaned against his neck, “But you already knew I think that.” The sentence was punctuated by another drive of his hips that sent Allius’ back bowing away from him.

Allius cried out again, the noise desperate and closer to a shriek than a moan. His walls clenched around Luke’s cock. “Do that again, puppy.”

Luke obliged happily, grinding his hips up into his lover, trying to hit that spot again and again. Allius let his head drop back against Luke’s chest, long past trying to hide his sounds of pleasure. He kept stroking his cock but the pace was stuttering and unsteady because of Luke’s vicious thrusts. His walls were fluttering in pleasure, and Luke could feel his knot start to swell. It caught on Allius’ rim with every movement. He made to pull out, but Allius moved his strong tail to encircle Luke’s waist, keeping him from moving back any further. He was panting hard, back sweaty and sticking to the werewolf’s hairy chest. “Fucking knot me, dumbass!”

Now this was new territory. Luke had never knotted Allius during his cycle, always pulling out and cumming outside, or knotting one of his toys. His brain was too cloudy to question this change, though, and immediately thrust all the way back inside. He rolled his hips into Allius, trying to make the most of his limited mobility. Luke knocked aside the hand that Allius was still jerking off with and replaced it with one of his own. His hand was larger and rougher than Allius’ own, and in moments the demon was cumming. Pearly liquid, the same pinkish colour as his slick, shot out, hitting himself in the chin, dripping down his chest and over Luke’s fingers. The way his hole clenched around his cock sent Luke over the edge. After a few more harsh thrusts he sank in to the hilt, and held Allius tight against him as he spilled inside. They collapsed, still locked together by Luke’s knot.

Allius looked thoroughly wrecked. He was covered in cum and that demonic golden blood, his whole body damp with sweat, with slick still leaking down his inner thighs and saliva dripping from his open mouth. He had claw and bite marks all over him, and the possessive side of Luke was already beginning to lament them healing smooth. “Fuck, that was so good,” Allius breathed out, craning his neck painfully in order to kiss Luke’s chest.

“You’re telling me,” Luke replied. He knocked his nose into Allius’ hair, running his fingers through to cum streaking the demon’s torso. “I don’t know if either of us can keep that up for the next five goddamn days.”

“Speak for yourself, puppy. I’m going to expect this every time you fuck me again. I’ll probably never have to feed again”

Groaning, Luke laved his tongue over one of the big bite marks one Allius’ shoulder. They kissed lazily, almost sleepily, with Luke straying away from Allius’ mouth to lick up the cum that had caught on his chin. Allius dropped his head to the floor after a few minutes, watching with half-lidded eyes as Luke continued dragging his fingers through the cum on his torso, licking the sweet-salty seed from his hands.

“Luke, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” Luke rolled his hips into Allius once, both of them shivering with overstimulation. “It’s not like I can run away.”

Allius laughed once, breathless and joyful. He reached up to trace Luke’s hairline with soft fingers. “I…” He breathed in and out, clearly in an effort to centre himself. “I want to be your mate. Properly. If you’ll have me.”

Luke sat bolt upright as best he could while still being locked inside Allius. “You want to...pardon?”

“I know that it’s a big thing, and you’ll have to claim me as a human because if I’m in my true form the bite won’t hold. Also, I don’t know whether I would bite you too, or if we would form a pact, or…”

He was cut off by Luke locking his muscular arms around him in a bone-cracking hug. “Yes. Yes, of course I want to be your mate!” He attacked every available inch of Allius’ skin with kisses and nips. “Is that why you wanted me to knot you this time?” He asked after burying his nose into the velvet-soft skin behind Allius’ ear.

Allius nodded, wriggling further back into Luke’s warm arms. His tail wound affectionately around Luke’s ankle. “I don’t know why I’ve been avoiding it for so long. It’s not like I can get pregnant, and it feels so good. I feel so full.”

Luke groaned at the sound of that, gently headbutting Allius. “Don’t say that. I already want to fill you with my cum so bad, now I’m never going to want to stop fucking you.” He bit the demon’s ear with sharp teeth, hips bucking slightly. “And I know for a fact that I’m not willing to never let you top me again.”

“Ooh, so romantic,” Allius chuckled, “But no matter how nice that sounds, I want to go to sleep now. I’m tired.”

Luke nodded into the incubus’ nape, tucking them closer together and drifting off, surrounded by each other’s warmth.

[fell-into-silence]

“Get out.” Freddy growled deeply, his voice the lowest and harshest it’s ever been. He stood at his full height practically towering over the three degenerate teens before him. “Or what? You’ll take me to my mommy?” A tall lanky boy with raven black hair in the middle of the group drawled cackling and elbowing the other two shorter boys on either side of him who snickered (though shakily) along with him. “Or scold me? Oh no!-I’m so scared.” Gregory pushed himself up off the cold brick ground grimacing at the scrapes on his hands and knees before slowly standing back onto his feet. “They aren’t worth it, let’s go back inside.” Gregory said and stumbled around the three boys but just as he was about to reach the animatronic bear the leader of the group had threw his arms out to push him-only for Freddy to roar and lung forward; swiping his clawed hand at the young man and shred his shirt open with the tips of his claws-barely missing his skin. The other two boys jumped back and screamed both of them falling back with their faces turning pale as sheets. They frantically struggled to their feet and ran down the empty alleyway leaving the tallest boy behind-who stumbled and fell backwards onto the stone ground. Freddy stalked over towards him as he fearfully crawled backwards his pleas for help bouncing off the brick walls caging them together. “LEAVE HERE NOW!” The bear roared once more before making another swipe at the freightened teen and that was all it took to make him flee for his life.

For a moment Freddy stood there; his entire body shaking from the raw anger that had engulfed his core. His fists clenched and teeth remained bared while slivers of light glinted off his fangs. Seeing Gregory being pushed around and bullied...it stirred up painful memories and feelings of remorse that still haunted his soul after so many years. It took every ounce of willpower to stay in control...to not lose himself to the anger-no, the fear of seeing someone so precious to him suffer. He’d become so lost in his thoughts he almost didn’t notice Gregory walking over towards him. “Dad?” Freddy shook himself out of his headspace and turned to stare at the dirtied, scuffed up boy-his boy staring worriedly with those warm hazel eyes (a lot of people think Gregory has flat out brown or green eyes but I like to think they are both-maybe I’m just self inserting a lil cause my eyes change from brown to green depending on the lighting etc.) and all the anger he’d felt dissipated into thin air. “Gregory-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I should have been here sooner!” In seconds Freddy was knelt down in front of him and begun frantically looking him over. The same claws that had almost torn through flesh were gently combing through his chestnut strands of hair with large thumbs brushing the dirt off his cheeks as Freddy cupped his smaller face in the palms of his larger hands. “Come on Papa bear, that’s not your fault.” Gregory replied softly. “I should’ve waited for you. I just...didn’t want them to do anything awful to anyone.” Freddy watched his superstar avert his eyes to the ground and felt his chest ache...without another word he pulled his hands away to wrap his arms around him instead; pulling him into a warm embrace and softly nuzzling his snout into his scruffy hair.

‘The world would be a horrible place without you in it.’ The bear thought as he scooped his boy into his arms and carried him back into the plaza. ‘I wouldn’t want to exist in such a place.’