#camp red moon mark

[jelly-spring-boy]

Mark <3 (IF YOU LIKE, PLEASE REBLOG!)

[campredmoonofficial]

Simon federman Butt naked, oiled up, erect, sweaty, sticky, hair messy, gag in his mouth, embarrassed, whimpering, on the ground, tied up in a bow, in 4K

thanks for that. may your past always haunt you, your present a never-ending torture, and your future grave be shallow

[juletheghoul]

too close

a/n: Yeah. The trailer got me again. I can't help myself!!! Also - I didn't actually want to write feelings for these two but I have no say anymore. They have feelings, they are obsessed with each other and I can't just ignore it lol. Not beta’d and barely proofread- any mistakes or errors are my own. Hopefully you enjoy! (PS I did a little research on fruits in Roman times- they had no word for orange, so any shade of orange was just called red)

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus eats pussy and I don't CARE, giving him that gluckgluck3000, creampie, Marcus gets hurt (hurt comfort), hand stuff from him because he's my precious man and he likes to give his girl pleasure, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance) he’s still pretty possessive, Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus (for now?👀), **FEELINGS** let me know if I missed any!

This is the fic I referenced in this preview

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 5.1k (whoops!)

reblogs are appreciated

Prev chapter Masterlist series masterlist

You frowned, despite your station, the confusion and slight worry breaking through the years of training your face to remain neutral. For a moment, you forgot your place.

“But-“ he turned, head tilted in curiosity instead of anger, thankfully, “I am to stay here? You do not wish me to accompany you Dominus? To pour and serve…?” You could not keep the slight hurt from your voice, much to your dismay. 

“No Girl, you will stay here, at the villa.” He saw the confusion, the unabashed anguish on your face and his expression softened, “peace Girl, it is not a matter of not desiring your presence or your service.” You listened to him with a lump in your throat, a wild fear seizing your heart that he might have grown tired of you. 

“I will not have the luxury of a tent, the rebellion is small enough that I can squash it and be back in less than a moon’s turn.” He came close, close enough to have your face tilt up to stare into his eyes. “I would not have you waiting for me in such a meagre camp, I would not have you sleeping in the dirt.” His hand settled on your arm, a soft offering, a reassurance but it did nothing to calm you. You have grown so accustomed to having him close, to ending up in his bed of a night more often than not before heading to your own, naked and pleasantly sore; to falling asleep with his seed trickling out of your puffy little cunt.

“I am comfortable wherever you are Dominus, I could still be of use, to light your fires-“ 

“I would have you here, and safe. That is my decision, and no amount of temptation will sway me from it.” He lifted your hand, pressing his lips to your fingers in silent, but firm apology. You knew there was nothing to be said, you had already pushed the matter far more than would be allowed on a normal day. 

“Your will, Dominus.” You bowed your head, despite the hurt and worry swirling around in your belly. “I will pray to the Gods for your swift victory, and safe return home.” 

He nodded, leaving shortly after. 

Time passed, and a feeling of restlessness took firm root in your being. The house felt empty, despite the attendants and sentinels left to guard them as well as the property. The days found you listless, moving through the motions of your chores and daily duties practically numb. The days were marks on the wall of your mind, praying to the Gods to send him back to you. 

Whispers travelled swiftly through the city, through the market stalls and through the villa itself, most of them rumours and it was difficult to keep your emotions in check. 

He has advanced

He has killed the leaders of the rebellion

He is victorious, already on his way home

He has been hurt

He is dead

He is victorious - Rome's favoured son has triumphed once more

The moon turned, once, and then twice, finally a third time before he was home. The all encompassing relief was short lived however, that wash of relief turned to ashes in your mouth at the sight of him. One of the rumours had been true after all. A sword wound to the side had laid him low late into the battle, it hadn’t killed him, thank the Gods, but it had slowed him down and made his journey home nothing short of agony. 

Your heart raced to see him weakened, every fibre of your being itched to run to him, to press your lips to skin but you refrained. You stood aside, dutifully, letting his trusted soldiers practically carry him to his bed. The older women got to work, bringing fortified wine with all manner of powders and potions to aid in his recovery while you stood next to him, the little half-moon marks in your palms from your nails barely felt like anything compared to the ache in the back of your throat. 

Your eyes would not leave his face. 

He looked so tired, mud and grime still marring his skin as he lay prone on his bed. To forfend the ugly thoughts swirling around in your mind, you focused on the tasks at hand. 

He needs to be cleansed, after he eats something I will boil some water and move gently, leave him to gather his strength. An offering must be made so the Gods will hasten his healing-

“Girl.” His voice was soft, and instantly you rushed to his side. 

“Yes Dominus, I am here.” You took his hand tentatively, your heart soared to feel him squeeze it. 

“Fetch me some broth, and help me to sit up–a few pillows behind me. I would sit upright.” 

You rushed to comply, happy to focus on his instructions. With soft touch, you did your best to prop him up, biting your lip to stop your eyes from welling up when he winced. Once satisfied, you set about fetching hot water and linens, as well as his broth. He sighed at the sight of it, and drank almost all of it within a few heartbeats. 

“Shall I help you cleanse now Dominus?” You brought the basin closer, showing him the steaming water and he nodded. 

Tentatively, you removed the soiled clothes he wore, ears pricked up for any sign of discomfort. He beared it with good grace, keeping the twinges of pain to himself, you imagined for your benefit, and you were grateful. It took time, but finally, you had divested him of everything, and he half sat, half laid on his bed, not an ounce of shame for his nakedness. It was secondary, to see him bare, more alarming was the soiled linens with the dark bloom of dried blood staining it on his side like some grotesque flower. 

He was pale, weak, his injury robbing him of his normal, ruddy health. He watched you, his expression somewhere between exhaustion, and a calm content. 

With gentle hands, you dipped the clean linen into the steaming water of the basin, and methodically cleaned the dirt, and dried blood from his skin. Eventually his eyes closed, soft sighs filled the air with every pass of the warm cloth across his shoulders, down the firm muscles of his thighs, his hands, until you reached the contours of his face. The lines were more defined, this battle had taken a toll on him. 

Your thumbs smoothed over his brows, wiping dust and worry away with a bone deep gratitude that he had come back. He melted into your touch, and you tried and failed to suppress the smile. 

“I must clean the wound, Dominus.” You reached for more clean dressings, giving him a chance to steel himself but he kept his eyes closed. You thought he might have fallen asleep, but he nodded, and so you did what needed to be done. 

To his great credit, he didn’t make a sound. Even as you cleaned at the angry, but healing edges of the wound. He said nothing when you packed it with the poultice one of the women had brought, when you covered it in a clean dressing, even as he drank down the no doubt foul tasting potion to help him sleep. Instead he settled back, and sighed, his eyelashes fluttering against his skin. 

You gathered all of the soiled clothing and discarded bandages, and moved to leave him to rest but his hand snatched at your wrist. 

“Wait, Girl, stay. Stay with me–” His words were almost slurred, and he didn’t finish his thought, his hand loosened around your wrist but you stayed, taking great care to lie beside him on his bed, and watched him sleep. Your heart raced with something you couldn’t–wouldn't name, something that threaded through your ribcage like smoke, wreathing its way around your lungs and taking root in your heart. You pressed the back of your hand to his brow, thankful that no fever lurked there and once satisfied that he was indeed resting, you rested your head next to his. 

Sleep took you, swiftly and without warning. 

The world outside was dark when your eyes opened, and it took a moment for you to get your bearings. His warm skin pressed to your arm and you jolted with the memory of his injury. 

“Peace, girl, I am well.” His voice was quiet, but stronger than before, “You did well in changing my dressings.” His praise squeezed at something in your belly, robbing you of any words you might have had. “You must be hungry, go and fetch something to eat and bring it here, I will share the meal with you.” The concern in his voice brought a smile to your lips, his thoughts on you, despite the pain he must have been in. 

“Yes Dominus, shall I fetch more of the potion as well? You should rest-” He raised his hand softly to forestall you. 

“I have rested enough, I would have my wits about me just now. Go on, you may fetch whatever else you need, I would have you sleeping in my bed.” 

His words rung in your ears as you moved throughout the silent house. They shone through your eyes as you piled a serving tray with olives and cheese, with bread and ripe fruits. They camped in your belly as it rolled with something when they repeated over and over like a prayer in your mind as you filled a serving jug with the wine he favoured, they strengthened your grip as you carried it with the utmost care down the moonlit halls of the house, almost sharpening your eyesight to bring you swiftly back to him. 

You set it down between you on his bed, careful not to spill anything or jostle him too much and just in time too, the hunger rung out from your empty belly loud as thunder but you ignored it, your priority was to help him sit up.

“Eat Girl, you are starving. I will pick at my leisure.” He frowned, gesturing to the food and you were grateful beyond words. It was a quiet meal, but comfortable. He usually ate by himself, most of the time while in his study and with you, it was after chores and duties had been completed. Despite all of your trysts and time spent together, it was the first meal you’d ever shared. 

“You do not favour the olives.” He said it without judgement. You shook your head shyly, covering your mouth to speak through bites of bread and cheese. 

“My desire for them is unpredictable.” He tilted his head, “Sometimes, they are all I want. Other times, I cannot stand the sight of them.” You wrinkled your nose, confirming that this time, the latter statement was true.

He smiled, huffing out an amused laugh through his nose.

“What else do you like? I see you favour the fruit, which one do you like most of all?” It was strange to be asked about yourself, no one in your life had ever wondered about what you might of preferred, for anything.

“Figs, I think. Pomegranates too, although peeling them takes a lifetime.” He huffed again, wincing slightly, “Are you in pain? Shall I fetch–” He raised a hand. 

“I am well, continue. Why do you favour them if they are so troublesome to eat?” He shifted a tiny bit, with great effort, turning to face you better. The room was dark, save for the few candles burning and the moon shining in through his window, casting stark shadows across his lovely face. 

“They are worth the effort.” 

He smiled, and finally reaches over to help himself to the food. Something about the darkness, about the quiet seclusion made you bolder.

“What about you Dominus? Is there a fruit you favour?” Your heart raced, fear that you might have overstepped grabbing hold of you but it was for naught, he merely frowned in thought. 

“I prefer plums.” He said after a moment, “I like figs as well.” It was both exhilarating and strange to speak with him like that, in the quiet dark, almost comfortable. “Although–in my younger days we fought in Spain, and there I tasted a fruit I have never seen again, I do not know the name of it but I enjoyed it very much.” 

“What was it like?”

“It was round, a strange shade of red with a thick peel but underneath it had segments like a lemon.” He continued eating, and you were content to sit with him, only moving the tray once he had eaten his fill.

“It is good to be home.” The words came out as a sigh, “I missed it while I was away, more than any other time I must admit.” He shifted slightly and winced again, “Help me lay flat, my back aches from sitting.” He held out his hand and you rushed to oblige, moving pillows and positioning him flat on his back. “That is better, gratitude Girl, let us blow out the candles and settle in.” 

“Yes Dominus.”

“Have you something to sleep in? What is most comfortable for you?” 

“I am content in this, Dominus.” You gestured to your tunic as you made your way around the room, snuffing out the candlelight.

“That is not what I asked you.” There was no bite in his words, but the expectation of truth was plain as day. 

“Most nights I sleep in the nude, it is what is most comfortable for me.” You made your way back to the bed but he did not let you get in. 

“Please, make yourself comfortable, there is no expectation from me, much as I have missed the pleasures of your body. I would have you sleep how you are accustomed.” You nodded once, undressing down to your skin before slipping into bed with him. In the dark, in the quiet, it was peaceful and the sound of his steady breathing worked it spell on you quicker than you would have thought. 

“Gratitude Girl.” He said it soft, and with a full belly and heavy lids, you questioned him. 

“For what Dominus?” The words were almost slurred, as the heavy press of sleep pushed you into the deep pool of blackness. You thought you heard him say everything, but you could not be sure, sleep had claimed you. 

-

You woke with the sun, the first few rays sliding across your skin like water and it was hard to move from your place. In the night, your body had brought you close to him, seeking out the warmth of him. He was still asleep, but his legs had tangled up with yours and it was strange to lay with him like this, both of you nude as the day you were born, yet incredibly comforting. 

You took the time to check over his wound, and were pleased to find it looking much better. The edges of it stitching together, thankfully without corruption. 

“It does not hurt as much as it did before.” His voice was sleepy, “I will be back on my feet soon enough.”

“Let me dress Dominus, and I will fetch you something to break your fast.” 

“Not just yet.” He shifted, and although you helped him, he didn’t struggle quite as much. “Come, lie with me.” He held out his arm, and you went to him, trembling like a leaf to rest your head on his shoulder. “Gods, I missed you, Girl.” He buried his nose into the mess of your hair and something inside you grew and swelled, was fed and made strong by his words and by his skin. 

“I missed you, Dominus.” Truer words had never been spoken by you, the ache for him had been unbearable.

“Did you?” There was something underneath, something desperate and had it not been so early, so peaceful, he might not have asked.

“Desperately Dominus, I feared you had abandoned me, I feared you no longer desired me.” You pressed your face into his neck, breathing him in, his scent, his warmth, him- sustenance

“Come now, Girl, you know of my desire for you, it is like a thirst I cannot quench. A hunger I cannot satisfy, despite my dark moods, despite my sour face, you are a source of joy and pleasure I have not known in some time.” His hand brought your face up, his gaze burned into yours and his words affected you so that tears welled in your eyes. He wiped them away, and the tenderness was too much, a sob clawed its way out from your throat. All of the worry, all of the fear that he might have left you alone in the world, to be sold to another bubbled up and he held you as you cried.

“Do you wish to be free of me? Is that why you cry?” Something in his voice broke your heart.

“No Dominus, no-“ you wiped at your eyes, moving to look him in the eye and the expression you saw in them was almost too much to bear. “I have never been so happy in all my life, I have never felt about anyone, the way I feel for you.” You pressed your lips to his, petal-soft. 

“Sometimes, the things I feel for you are almost too big for my body, I want to be with you always, I want to feel you always. I feared so much while you were gone that I could barely eat, barely sleep-” Your words were frantic, so many things to get out that you could barely speak and he pulled you close, shushing you softly. 

“My heart swells to hear you speak this way.” He reached down, sliding his hand towards the hinge in your knee, to pull it over his thigh. “Peace, let us just enjoy the silence.” You nodded into his neck, letting go of a great breath in your lungs. 

“If I was myself, and whole, I would be pulling every ounce of pleasure from you now.” 

You laughed at the annoyance in his tone.

“Soon enough Dominus, I would have you healthy and healed.” Your hand slid up the smooth expanse of his chest, threading through the curls at the base of his skull. “Once your wound has healed, you may have me any way you please.” 

“Any way?” His tone darkened, and your body responded, thighs clenching, heart racing, nipples hardening. “Any way I please? And what if I want you for a day and a night? What if I want you wet and spread for me in this bed until you’re so full of my gift it spills all over my linens?” The hand that had been softly stroking your back moved down and grabbed at your backside, pulling until the lips of your sex spread open. 

A moan slipped out at the feel of his hands, and he all but growled. 

“Do not make those noises Girl, not when I cannot fuck you how I wish to.” He pulled your face up, licking into your mouth with a hunger you could not satisfy, not in his current state. 

“Dominus, I beg of you not to taunt me, not when we cannot indulge.” You kissed him again, despite your words and finally he pulled away, the tremble of frustration in his grip. You shifted, and felt his manhood press against your thigh, the sight of him, leaking and hard against his belly made you sigh. 

“Do not concern yourself with that, I am ravenous for you, but my body cannot fulfill the wishes of my cock. Go and fetch something to break our fast. I will need you to change my dressing as well, if you could.” He sent you off with a kiss, and with desire dripping onto your thighs. 

“Yes Dominus.” You smiled, and rushed off to do what needed to be done. 

-

Weeks passed, and he healed beautifully. His wound knit together cleanly and with that, his strength came back. More often than not he stood and cleansed without your help, he left the safety of his bed and his chambers and sported a genuine smile as he made his rounds through his house.

You trailed behind him, your own smile in place to see him coming back into himself. 

Things were different. He was different. 

He spoke more, that was for one. Before he would keep his own council, his words were curt and his thoughts would be kept close to his chest. Some nights he reverted to his silence, but it had grown into something peaceful, something comfortable.

The biggest change though, was his attitude towards you. 

For one, he refused to sleep alone. The darkness of night found you tending to his needs and after the candles had been snuffed- he pulled your tunic off and pulled you into his bed, into his arms. 

At first, you thought it was his injury, a fear that he might suffer some setback in his sleep, but as the days passed on and he was well past the point of danger, he still refused to let you go. 

His desire had come back too, much quicker than his body could handle. Mornings would find you in the cage of his arms, with his lust pressed hard and hot at the cleft of your ass. You would pull away so as not to tease him, and he would let you at first, but as his body caught up to him, he stopped letting you pull away. 

Most mornings, he’d whisper how much he missed burying himself inside you, how he couldn’t wait to gift you with his seed while slipping his fingers between your legs and swirling them around your clit, only stopping after you’d fluttered around his fingers. Then he’d send you off to fetch food with a smile on your face and an ever-growing ache between your thighs. 

A part of you fretted as to why he hadn’t taken you yet, as the days passed it was clear that he was well enough to indulge. Another part, a hopeful, possibly quite foolish part of you thought maybe he was waiting for you to ask him. That couldn’t be, could it? You ruminated on your previous encounters, yes–he’d called you forth to warm his bed, but with every recalled memory it was clear that in his own way, he'd let you decide whether to push things or not. A luxury you knew was rare. It was an intoxicating thought though, to think that you could decide when and what you wanted him to do.

So many possibilities. 

When night came, you brought him his meal, and his wine and tried to keep the tremble of excitement out of your hands. You watched him move about his chambers, his strength back to normal as he dipped his hands into the fresh water in his basin. His hair had grown out a little, dark with silver mixed through and that thought struck you again, that he was some beautiful marble statue come to life. An emperor of old, standing before you in all his glory. 

“Dominus-” You called to him, unable to hold back any longer. His eyes raised, finding you as he dried his hands. 

“Before you take your meal, I would ask something of you.” Your voice shook, never had you openly asked him for anything before. He raised his eyebrows, more surprised than anything.

“What would you have of me Girl?” He moved towards you, eyes curious. 

“I would have you–” You stopped him, guiding him to sit on his bed, “I would have you sit here, and accept my mouth.” 

You kneeled before him, staring up at him with your lip caught between your teeth. Your hands landed on his knees, sliding up to pull his tunic up to expose his manhood. For a moment, he stared at you with wide, surprised eyes. 

“I have missed our times together, I have missed you filling me of a night and as much as I treasure your fingers in the morning, I would have you feel pleasure at my hand–or, my mouth.” He did not stop you from exposing him and heat flooded your body to see how quickly his cock responded to your words, to the soft exploration of your hand. 

“You would do this?” His palm landed on your shoulder, sliding up to cup your cheek. “You have no obligation, I would not command you to do this should you not want to.” You spit onto your palm and grasped him in hand and despite his words, he shudderred to feel the way you stroked him. 

“I dream about this Dominus, I desire you so deeply that I ache for you–” You opened your mouth and took the blunt tip of him into your mouth. He moaned, slack-jawed at the sight of you. You placed open mouthed kisses at the tip, and the sensitive underside, stroking at the base of him. His thighs spread, making room for you and you relished the warm strength of them under your arms. 

He tasted like the ocean. 

“God’s above Girl-” You pulled away, smiling as you continued to stroke him, he barely fit in the palm of your hand and with his passion dribbling out and your spit the sounds were loud and slick. Your own arousal unspooled between your legs, the ache intensifying as he tensed underneath you, hissing when you pressed soft kisses to the scar at his side, to the softness of his belly, to the firm golden thighs bracketing you to his hips. 

“Open your mouth.” His confidence resurfaced, and then his hand wrapped around yours, guiding you to stroke him the way he liked. He guided the reddened tip into your mouth. “Look at me when you take me in your mouth, open wide, I want to touch your throat.” You moaned around him, taking him deeper, breathing through your nose in an attempt to stay calm. 

“That’s it Girl, Gods be damned-” His tone was filthy as he held you there, eyes watering until you pulled away, sputtering and messy. 

“If you continue, I will spill in your mouth.” he guided your hand still, slowly stroking himself against your lips, smearing your spit and his salty arousal onto your lips. Never in your life have you felt that powerful, that beautiful, with tears spilling down your face and slick dripping down your thighs. He held himself suspended in his pleasure, awaiting your word. 

“Would you like to spill in my mouth Dominus? Or would you like to fill my cunt?” You held out your tongue, letting him rub the tip of himself against it while he decided. Your heart soared to see the conflict on his face. 

“I would fill your cunt, I have missed it terribly.” You smiled and rose with a final kiss to his cock and once you did, he ripped the tunic off your body. The loud tear of it made you squeal with a mix of shock and excitement. 

“I promise you, I will not last.” He all but tossed you onto his bed, spreading your legs wide for his gaze. “Greedy little cunt, so wet for me.” He spoke in a daze, staring at the place that ached at the mere thought of him. He slipped down and it’s with a shock that you watched him dip down to spear into you with his tongue. Never had anyone used their mouth on you and the sight of it was almost too much to bear.

It’s with a greedy, filthy groan that his lips dragged up to latch around the pert little pearl of you, his tongue stroking, stroking, stroking while his mouth suctioned around it. Your body was a taut string, legs shaking under the strong grip of his hands, holding you to him tight enough to hurt. Your breathing came in pants, the climax was already there, balancing on a knife's edge, so close you could almost taste it.

His hands moved, sliding up to pinch at your nipples and the wave crested. Your hands gripped into his curls, both holding him close, and desperately pushing him away while you fluttered into his mouth. 

You felt the strong muscle of his tongue slide down, drinking you from the source. 

He made his way back up, your slick shining on his face and on his whiskers. You’re almost too shocked, and too shy to look into his eyes. 

“I confess, I have wanted to do that for a long time.” He pulled his tunic up and off as you lay under him, boneless. “I know it’s not something commonly done, but I enjoy it. Did you enjoy it? I felt you flutter.” He raised your leg, wrapping it around his hip while his cock slipped inside you without any resistance. You let out a relieved sigh, finally, he was home. 

“Yes Dominus–” You almost whispered, half-shy as he dropped down, his arms holding himself up on either side of your skull. “No one has ever–Oh–” He snapped his hips hard, unable to hold himself back and already, the need built in your core, robbing you of any coherent thoughts. 

“No one but me ever will.” He kissed you, making you taste yourself and it was so perverse, so exhilarating you held him close, wrapping your arms and legs around him to feel as much of him as you could. His cock pushed and pulled, hitting that special place he owned and with a handful of thrusts, and a punched out groan he filled you with his gift. Finally. 

He watched himself pull out of the mess he'd made, watched in silence as his gift dripped out and onto his linens. 

Things felt different this time, there’s a vulnerability, an intimacy that is almost overwhelming. You pulled his face up, and pressed your lips to his softly, praying that you conveyed the feelings swirling in your chest. He kissed you back, his hand gliding up to wrap around your neck. When you opened your eyes, his brow was furrowed, the same feelings shining back at you through his dark eyes. 

Seconds passed, and the feeling did not disperse. Before he would have sent you away, but he held you close. Wordlessly he pressed his lips to yours over and over, he stroked at your skin, your shoulder and your thigh high on his ribs, your breast, your lips. He moved off, and went about dampening a cloth to clean himself off of you. Once he was done, he brought the food you’d served him and fed you from his own hand. 

You accepted the food, smiling shyly as he watched you, something like affection, like love shining out through his eyes. 

“Thank you Dominus–” He shook his head, a small frown at your words. 

“Call me Marcus.”

– Tag list: @frannyzooey @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi  @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name @zombiesnips-blog @sarahjkl82-blog @fan-of-encouragement @queenofthecloudss @deadhumourist @felicisimor @toomanystoriessolittletime @what-iwish-you-knew @pedrostories @athalien @bi-thewayy @literallydontlook @pedrosbrat @gamingaquarius @luxmundee @iamafadedmoon @nakhudanyx @littlemisspascal @grogusmum @recklessworry @heyitmelexie @killyspinacoladas @gothicxbarbie @evildxad @dragonslarimar @spideysimpossiblegirl @chemtrail-mix @breezythesimp @altarsw @artooies-scream @staygolddindjarin @softsweetedbeauty @littlemisspascal @yuiopiklmn @squidwell @just-blogging-around @bbyanarchist @girlofchaos @maddiedrmr @frasmotic @acourtofsnakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @astoryisaloveaffair @harriedandharassed  @shirks-all-responsibilities @androah @alwaysachorusgirl @dindjarinsmut @captain-jebi @gallowsjoker @tusk89 @dadbodfanatic-x @naiomiwinchester @blazedprince @avidreader73 @mr-underhills-things @avengersfan25 @tastygoldentaters @nyotamalfoy @mymindfuckery @its-nebuleuse @missladym1981 @inept-the-magnificent @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @ladyofmidlo72 @greenvita @honey-on-your-tongue

[fernclans]

A time to start anew.

(tw for blood, violence, and implied death)

“Cliffpaw, grab the kits and run--!”

A small red tom woke with a start, fear and adrenaline filling his veins as the thick stench of blood filled his senses. The lone apprentice of ▇▇Clan doesn’t even take the time to stand properly, bolting immediately from his nest and sending its contents scattered behind him. He barely has a moment to parse the camp in front of him before whirling on his paws and angling left to the nursery; he couldn’t count how many cats had already fallen, but against such a massive enemy the tom knew instinctively they stood no chance either way.

Misfortune had followed a patrol home; a patrol of young wolves out for a hunt. The packs northward had been growing larger over the past seasons-- more pups meant more prey which needed to be killed. Though predators themselves, Cliffpaw knew it was foolish to believe cats weren’t also prey in their own right.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon! Let’s get going!” a kit nearly his own size shoved his way past ▇▇▇▇, a smaller she-kit following behind with what could only be a moon-old kit in her jaws.

“Head to the tunnels!” ▇▇▇▇ shouted over their shoulder, just barely audible against the snarling and barking of wolves.

Giving himself a firm nod, Cliffpaw overtakes the eldest kit and begins to pick up the pace. “Follow me-- I can lead us somewhere no wolf can find.” He hoped. He’d only been there once, two moons prior the beginning of his apprenticeship with Magpiestar; The Moonlit Caverns. A place where those blessed with the ability to do so commune with their ancestors, sacred and protected.

A small dip beneath a stone obscured by plants Cliffpaw never learned the name of marking an emergency tunnel into the system below -- it was narrow, and not well-maintained but it would have to do. A shriek sounds from behind him, shrill with terror. “AMBERKIT!” Cliffpaw hears the tomkit shout as his eyes meet the dark stare of a wolf whose jaws clamped around the tail of the white and grey tabby she-kit.

“Take the little one and through that hole and RUN-” Cliffpaw orders, hoping his few moons of training would be enough to save Amberkit and get out of there before the wolf could get a worse hold. Without hesitation, he lunges forward and latches to the large hounds face, teeth fighting for a grip against its massive forehead. 

He looks down at the wolf, eyes black and hollow, and then further down at Amberkit, tiny and helpless within its jaws. His paw begins to slip when an idea strikes him. Leaning into the weight, Cliffpaw scores his left-front paw down the wolf’s left eye and landing with a thud when it pulls itself back, a high-pitched whimper leaving its muzzle, releasing its hold on Amberkit’s tail.

His mind fights to take the moment to look across the camp while the wolf was still dazed -- were ▇▇▇▇ and ▇▇▇▇ still alive? Did they somehow escape as well? Precious seconds are wasted while Cliffpaw fights against himself, muscles tensing in indecision. A growl, deep and low is quick to make the decision for him. The red tabby surges forward, grabbing Amberkit by her scruff and forcing himself through the tunnels.

Whatever happened above, they would have to get through this together.

hiii welcome to my latest little clangen venture :3 this save, i selected a single apprentice and all the kits i could and decided to let it up to fate if they can rebuild from such a tragedy post style will probably change moon to moon while i figure out what kind of flow i like, but i hope you enjoy!

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Devotion

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1.2K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: agression, insults, general rudeness, crying, soft boy Astarion

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

Tensions were high in camp generally, being beaten down on the daily fighting such powerful beings was enough to irritate everyone. For the most part you were just trying to avoid everyone, give them peace. You sought out your lover, Astarion, for comfort yet were greeted with annoyance and dismissal. It hurt your feelings and you were open with him about that. That is where the fight started but gods did it evolve. Every little annoyance with each other came spewing out until it turned into this giant ugly monster that enveloped you both. 

“Just leave me alone!” Astarion yelled at you but stayed in his spot.

“Excuse me? You’re in my tent.” you said, crossing your arms. 

“I have had enough of your attitude.” Astarion said in a low voice. 

“Likewise my dear.” you shot back at him. 

He stalked towards you, his eyes were sharp and you could see the anger in his face. “What was that?” he growled.

“I said I’ve had enough of you. You want to be alone? Fine. Be alone but go do it somewhere else.” you shoved past him.

He gripped your arm tightly pulling you harshly back to where you were standing before. You winced, his grip hurting you. You tried to yank your arm away but all that did was make him grip you harder. 

He walked you backwards until your back hit the pole holding your whole tent up. You winced at that as well, the wood scraping against you roughly.

“I would speak more softly to me.” Astarion gritted.

“You’re hurting me.” you said while trying to pull his hand off your arm. 

He squeezed your arm tighter, you let out a yelp. This cleared his mind right up; he let go of you but you remained where you were. He reached up to inspect your arm. You flinched away, shielding your face. 

Astarion took a step back from you, his face contorted with a look of utter sorrow. “I wouldn’t hurt you…” he murmured.

“You did hurt me.” you said as you shrugged your cloak off, looking down at your arm. A red mark already forming into a hand shaped bruise laid where he grasped you.

His eyes widened at the mark, he looked down at his hands. His eyes met yours and as he moved towards you he saw your face flash with fear as you moved away from him. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. 

“Get out.” you said, tears brimming in your eyes.

“Darling I…”

“Get out! Touch me again and I’ll cut your fucking hand off.” your tears fell but they weren’t from sadness or fear, they were from rage. 

He flinched at your harshness, having never seen you like this before. He wanted to stay, to make it right somehow. But he couldn’t and that's what hurt the most. He left. His mind went elsewhere as he sank down into his own bed. It felt cold. He hadn’t been without you in months, everything felt dark and lonesome. 

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

He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t think. He had never had to apologize for hurting somebody, if anything he was rewarded in the past for it. But he never wanted to hurt you, and now that he had, all he felt was confused. He truly didn’t mean to. Having just fed, he didn’t realize his strength. He consistently forgot how strong he was now that he was feeding on thinking creatures. He cursed himself, he wanted to cut out his heart. He decided he would do what you asked, he would get out.

He sat on the hillside watching the sun go down and the moon rise. He had his bag packed, just a few things, including a ring you had given him less than a week ago. A ring of devotion. He held it between his fingers, a single tear slipped down his cheek. Gods how he wished this all turned out differently. How he wishes he could have been better for you. Perhaps Cazador was right, he was nothing, and he would always be nothing. 

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

You were still angry, he hadn’t left his tent in days and the first thing he did was go sit on a hill? You glared at him as you watched from the mouth of your tent. You looked down at your arm, the bruise was fading, just yellow and splotchy now. You knew he didn’t mean to hurt you, he would never. But that didn’t change the fact that he did. You didn’t fear him, you just wanted an apology and for this stupid fight to be over. You went to bed, tossing and turning all night, unable to slip away. 

You rolled over to the sound of footsteps. Keeping your eyes closed but just barely cracked, pretending to sleep, you saw Astarion looking at you from the front of your tent. His face was so sad, so forlorn. He watched you for a moment longer before leaving. You listened to his steps, but they didn’t lead back to his tent. They got further and further until you couldn’t hear him anymore. Something in your gut told you to follow him, so you did. You saw his tracks lead out of camp.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” you said as you caught up to him about a mile from camp. 

He looked shocked to see you when he turned around. “To wash.” he lied quickly.

You raised your eyebrow as you walked up to him, “Really? A mile away from camp? With a backpack? If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were leaving for good.” you put your hands on your hips, awaiting his answer.

“I… am.” he said, his shoulders slumping and his eyes looking downwards. 

“Oh? And why is that?” you asked.

“I am a danger. I don’t want to hurt you again.” he said, tugging his backpack closer to him.

“This will hurt me more than you could ever imagine.” you said, holding his cheek. You weren’t angry anymore, irritated was a better way to describe it. 

His shaking hand rested over the top of yours, he sighed, “I don’t know how to fix what I’ve done.”

“An apology would be a good start.” you mumbled with a small smile.

“I am sorry, truly. I forget myself, my strength. My temper is so… easily rattled. I just… I’m so sorry Y/N.” he said with a shaky voice. 

You kissed him softly, “I accept your apology. Now I need you to make me a promise.”

“Anything.” he said quickly.

“Promise me we'll talk things through. That we’ll be rational, patient. And that you won't just pick up and leave after every small fight.” you pleaded with him. 

“Yes! Yes, of course… Is your arm alright?” he asked, his eyes glancing towards it. 

“Good,” you leaned up to kiss him again. “It’s fine, I can hardly even see it now.” you said as you showed him your arm.

“Do you still trust me…? Love me?” he asked, he wanted to hold you close so bad but he restrained himself. 

“Of course. I’m not afraid of you Star, I was just angry. Of course I love you and trust you.” you pulled him to you in a crushing hug. 

He cautiously wrapped his arms around you, he looked down to the ring on his finger. Devotion, he thought. He was devoted to you above all else.

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

Naboo's Note:

Hello!!! This was based off a request and I loved writing this. As a reminder to all - REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!! I have another fic idea so be on the look out for that in the next few days. Thanks for everything! XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX!!!!!!

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Big Brave Man

Bleeding in Moonlight: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven |

CW: Creepy whumper, reluctant whumper, dehumanization, werewolf whump, hunting runaway whumpee

-

The last half-mile of the hike back home was always the worst part. The woods were at their thickest, which helped to hide the scattered buildings hidden down a dirt road from prying eyes, but it also meant it would be so easy to get lost, drift off the hidden path, and simply never be seen again. 

Austin had been taught the signs to watch for since he first learned how to walk, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a little worried every single time that he’d miss just enough of them to end up miles off course. He’d been taught to hold on to that worry, that it was people who were cautious who made it home.

Still, he was so damn tired now.

His legs were shaking from exertion, from the miles and miles he’d spent the day walking, clambering, and climbing. Exhaustion had his eyelids feeling heavier with every blink, but Austin knew better than to think he could head off to his own small room to sleep off the last twenty four straight hours of trying to find that little shitstain Rusty. 

He wasn’t even grown - how had a juvenile been able to get away so fast? The blood trail had made it clear that he’d been hit by one of the silver bullets… how had he managed to keep running? 

He was going to be in such deep shit with Bill about this.

Distracted, Austin tripped over a tree root and swore when he nearly dropped his rifle, scrambling not to let it touch the ground. His father would have something to say about that, too. You never put down your gun, he knew that rule better than any other. 

Especially not on a full moon, when werewolves wouldn't hesitate. When they would bite and tear and claw and shred in mindless violence until their sadistic desires were satisfied. Werewolves were at their worst during the full moon.

It was the first thing Austin had learned in homeschooling, how to recognize werewolves even in human form, what to watch for, and when they were most dangerous.

Reading, writing, math, history... the rest all came once Austin knew what to be afraid of. And how to do the wolves harm before they could harm him.

Even if those warnings didn't really match the captive pack that Bill kept for his search for a cure. Even if the wolves in the kennels had never acted the way he'd been taught they should.

Bill had always claimed it was because captivity made them safer to be around, made their viciousness weaker. But... sometimes Austin wondered.

Last night had been a full moon, and Rusty had run through a camp and then found his way to a car with campers and Austin had found an empty parking spot marked with only Rusty's blood. No bodies. No bones. No vicious monster growling and snarling with red-tinged foam around his fangs.

The moon was supposed to turn them into killers.

So why hadn't Rusty killed the campers?

He was too tired to think about this.

Once he finally eased out of the woods into the first of the compound’s small cleared spaces, what hit hardest was the silence.

The moon had begun to rise, and normally the wolves would have been restless in their kennels, human and canine forms shifting back and forth in sickening ways, desperate to run out the energy that coiled through their wiry wasted muscles. He’d have heard the scraping of accidental brushes against the silver-lined fencing, the little whimpers from the younger ones, the older shushing them. He’d have heard the whispers as he walked past, the growls, the whining pleas to be allowed to hunt.

They want to hunt you, Bill had always told him. You're the prey. They play at sounding weak and scared, but they'd rip your throat out if we let them.

Still. He'd always searched for that mindless rage in their eyes, and Austin had never seen it.

Now there was nothing to see at all.

The kennels were emptied out and silent. Nothing moved in the shadows. There was no soft pattering of paws in the dirt, no yellowed eyes gleaming in the dark. 

Austin turned away before he could acknowledge the guilt that still tugged at him, a sickening pull at his insides. 

The kennels were silent, because all of the wolves were now on the other side of the barn, far enough away where hopefully the smell wouldn’t be too overpowering. The wolves were all in the pit they’d spent days digging, just to shoot the creatures they’d kept as long as Austin had been alive or longer.

That’s where the last of the gleaming yellow eyes had gone.

He wondered if any of their eyes were still open, under the dirt they'd piled on top of the bodies, and shivered. 

All his father’s hard work had faltered. There was only so much to learn, and every attempt at a cure had been fruitless. But at least, Austin thought, there wouldn’t be any more mournful howls in the darkness when they took the puppies from their mothers. At least he wouldn’t have to watch his father’s tests any longer, holding the creatures down in human or wolf form so blood could be drawn or bits cut off for Bill’s experiments. He wouldn't have to hear their screams of pain.

At least there was that.

Really, what they had done was a mercy, right? The werewolves had been miserable, and frightened, and now they were neither. It had been a mercy to give them death.

Keep telling yourself that, Austin. Whatever keeps the look on Rusty’s stupid wolf face when he dug out of the pit out of your mind, right?

Whatever helps you sleep at night.

Coward.

Not that he'd be sleeping any time soon, considering he still had to give his debrief to Bill, and he was starving hungry, too. Needed a shower. Needed to work out the nervous, jittery energy that still coiled underneath the fatigue that made each step drag a little more with every foot of distance he covered. 

Austin’s feet were barely moving by the time he made it to the house, fingers fumbling at the handle to the screen door, his boots scraping along the concrete steps. “Mom?” He called, voice heavy and husky. The moon hung full above him, and it felt absurdly like it was watching him - just one big white eyeball in the sky, all pissed off.

He cut off a half-hysterical giggle that threatened to erupt, like a volcano. God, he was so tired. He needed sleep so badly.

Wherever Rusty was, he was probably enjoying the moonlight. Gone rabid and torn out the campers' throats and rolled in their blood. Then again, maybe he’d bled out and died somewhere after he’d found those damn campers to treat him like a shelter dog.

That would make things easier, if they could just find the body.

But first they had to find the people he’d caught a ride with.

“Austin!” His mother appeared, looking as tired as he did, her hair a frizzy mess still drying from her nightly shower, already wearing her quilted flower-print robe over her nightdress. She moved to him, then wrinkled her nose and stopped, still a good couple feet away. “Oh, honey. You are absolutely filthy.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Running on pure muscle memory, he unloaded the rest of the silver bullets from the rifle, then set it into the empty spot on the racks mounted along the wall just inside the door. Next step was putting the bullets back in the special wooden box full of them, listening to the click as each one dropped back in. Minus the one he'd lodged, he thought, pretty deep in Rusty's leg.

Only then could he lean over to untie the laces to his boots. A new wave of exhaustion hit like a wall of bricks and he found himself listing to one side, knocking a shoulder into the wall. “Shit.”

“Language,” Sandra scolded automatically, without much feeling. Austin had hit adulthood years ago, and by now it was mostly just an instinct because of the younger kids. Not that any of them were still awake, not this late. “Did you find Rusty?”

Austin exhaled. 

Sandra read the answer in his face, and she sighed. “Oh, honey. Your father’s not going to like that.”

“Yeah, Mom, I know. Bill hates everything I do, though, so it shouldn’t be too different from any other day for me.” The first pulses of a headache threatened, his growing fatigue was rapidly becoming a heavy weight alongside the beat of his heart. He left his muddy boots on the mat and made his way to the fridge. He’d downed half the beer before he even thought to take a breath, rubbing a hand over the shadow of stubble that had already started to grow. “To answer your question, though… I actually did find him. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Her eyebrows furrowed in concern and more than a little disapproval. “What does that mean, ‘sort of’? Don’t tell me you let Rusty go.”

“I’m not stupid, Mom.” Austin let his forehead drop against the cool stainless steel of the fridge, closing his eyes. If he could just sleep, this would go so much better. If he had time to plan what he would say, to think it through. “I didn’t let him go.”

“Then-”

His father’s voice came booming from another room. “Sandra? Is that Austin come back?”

“Yes!” Austin’s mother took in a breath, and gave Austin a slight smile. “Just a minute and he’ll be right in there.” She patted Austin on the arm and walked past him, heading for Bill’s office. Austin followed, a little helplessly, the pit of dread in his stomach growing step by step.

He should’ve been moved out and married by now. Why was he still here, following his father’s orders? Why did he still get worried when his dad was disappointed in him? Why had he let his father tell him none of the girls from their meetups had been right for him?

Why hadn't he just gotten into a car and driven until he ran out of gas years ago, set up a new life wherever he found himself? He used to dream about it. Join a construction crew or something, where they could pay him under the table. Get an apartment with some roommates and learn how to take care of himself.

He used to dream about it.

Now, he thought, he'd just dream about dead wolves in the dark.

He took the beer with him, and he ignored Bill’s disapproving stare when he stepped into the doorway. It was his own beer, and just because his father had stopped drinking a few years ago thanks to some revelation about God’s will or other, didn’t mean that Austin thought the same way. 

So brave, a mocking inner voice whispered. Such a big brave man, defying your father about beer while killing a dozen werewolves on his orders.

Bill’s office was all wood paneling and dim lamps, giving it the feeling of some barely-explored cave covered in piles of paper - including seemingly every receipt for every purchase he'd ever made. Alongside the boxes of paper were old leatherbound books and the mounted heads of elk, deer, regular wolves, and more lining the walls. 

Bill sat in an overstuffed leather easy chair he kept in here - Austin was pretty sure half his time spent ‘working’ in his office was actually spent napping in that damn chair. The older man’s hair and beard had long since gone mostly gray, and unlike Sandra, he wasn’t ready for bed, not yet. He was still wearing his flannel and jeans. His right hand rested on the head of the placid, pathetic creature that sat obediently next to him. Koko, a half-grown wolf with mostly gray fur tinged at the edges with the same rust-red that made up most of Rusty’s coat, was always like that - drugged to complacency, his blue human's eyes dull and barely aware of anything around him. 

He'd come from the same litter of pups as Rusty had, Austin thought. Same mother. It was hard to remember who'd been born when, it was just the wolves, after all.

Vicious fuckers. 

Are they, Austin? Or are you the monster hiding under their bed?

In this moment, it was Bill's stare that seemed far more likely to be followed up by violence.

Bill’s expression shifted into a deep frown. “I can tell just looking at you that you didn’t take care of Rusty.”

The disappointment burned - it always did - but Austin shoved it to the side. He wasn’t a little kid any longer, and he was too damn old to still feel like a boy chided for not doing the dishes after dinner. “I followed him as long as I could,” He said, keeping his voice low. He leaned against the doorway, refusing to come any closer than that, taking another drink of beer. He watched his father’s narrow eyes follow the movement of the bottle. “But then he left.”

"He what." His father's voice dropped to a depth Austin had only rarely heard before. 

Austin's fingertips burned cold, suddenly, as if he'd plunged his hand into a bucket of ice and held it until frostbite took hold. An answering chill took up heavy space in his ribs, just behind his heart. 

This is the strong brave man your father built, that inner voice mocked again. You’re as tame as Koko, just how he wants it. Even his own kids are just kept in a different kind of kennel.

"He-" Austin's voice broke, and he stopped, clearing his throat as best he could. He tried to tell himself strength impressed his father far more than kissing ass ever had. “He left with some campers. He got in a car with them. I lost the trail."

"Some campers," Bill repeated, voice flat now, stuck just one step above a growl. "You couldn’t get a shot in? What was all that training for, then? Are you so useless you can't hit the broad side of a-"

"I did!" Austin met his father’s eyes - and saw how Bill sat up a little. Austin rarely refused to lower his gaze. He almost never argued back. Hell, now that he thought about it, this might be the first time. 

But he couldn’t get the memory of the whining, howling, crying wolves out of his mind. The way they sounded, the way they moved, writhing as they died, trying to clamber over or hide under the dead bodies of the others. 

Rusty’s eyes had been ringed all in white before he’d taken off into the woods. Mad with terror, wearing blood from his pack, fleeing into the wood with the evil hunter on his heels.

That’s you, Austin. You’re the bad guy in the fairy tale. You're the monster. Big brave man chasing a frightened teenager through the woods. They make true crime shows about bastards like you.

Austin cleared his throat. Rusty wasn't human, he told himself. It wasn't the same.

It was.

It wasn't.

It was-

"I definitely shot him, Dad. Silver bullet, blood everywhere. But they bundled him into their car before I could track him all the way and the trail ended at the parking lot."

"Goddamn typical," Bill muttered. As if Austin failing was exactly what he had expected. As if he never did anything else.

“Language,” Sandra chided automatically.

Austin flushed dark with shame and a guilty anger of his own. “Dad-”

"No, Austin.” Bill sighed. His hand began to move, petting absently over Koko’s head. The wolf didn’t seem to even notice. Those clouded blue eyes weren’t seeing anything but whatever was inside Koko’s empty little head. “Don’t bother. This really is absolutely typical. I should've sent your mother, you were always a poor shadow of her skills."

"Bill, be nice," Sandra cut in, nervous herself, but Austin felt warmth at the sight of her squaring up her rounded shoulders on his behalf. "Austin’s just tired. Considering everything he'd had to do before he had to take off after Rusty-"

"Woman-" Bill tensed, as if ready to push himself out of his recliner.

When Sandra turned on him, though, he fell back, looking up at her, vaguely startled. "Oh, don't you dare 'woman' at me, or my cast iron and I will have something to say," Sandra snapped back. She stood like she was made of iron, too, arms crossed in front of her. "When have I ever let you call me 'woman', Bill, huh?"

Bill was silent for a long moment before looking uncomfortably away from her. "Never."

"Damn straight."

“Language,” Austin teased, and was rewarded with his mother’s tired smile and his father’s irritated scowl. 

“Fine. Austin... worked hard last night.” It sounded like he was confessing to a sin, just admitting his oldest son had done anything right. Austin tried to take the compliment for what it was, but still resentment festered. He was the oldest of the twelve children, and he’d spent his whole life working to help his father build the compound into what it had become. 

And yet he was always the one who fell short of his father’s expectations - not because they were too high, but because of something inside of Austin his father had simply never liked. 

Maybe he's just mad that you're only a killer against your will.

“Still,” Bill continued, voice heavy. “Still, we lost one of our wolves.”

“But only one,” Austin countered. “The rest of them are handled, Dad. We made sure. Rusty was the only survivor. Well, except for Koko.”

Koko's ear twitched, once, and those hazy blue eyes focused briefly on Austin. Austin had a thought - just the slightest impression - that there was a fathomless loathing for him in those human eyes trapped inside a canine face. A hatred that ran so deep Austin couldn't see into its depths, could never begin to understand it.

Then Koko laid heavily down on the floor, resting his chin on his paws, looking like he'd drift off at any moment. The bulky prong-collar he wore clearly pinched a little, as he winced and shifted. The hate faded into cloudy nothing again.

Bill glanced down, the first time he'd looked at the young wolf so far. "Koko barely counts. He’s a good boy.”

Where Bill couldn’t quite see, Koko’s lip lifted on one side, briefly showing fang, before his eyes drifted shut. 

Austin opened his mouth to mention to Bill that Koko maybe wasn’t quite as docile as he seemed, but Bill spoke before he could. “And we can't start fresh if one of them's out there hurting people because of you.”

“Start fresh?” The cold dread returned, but for a totally different reason now. The kennels full of crying puppies taken from their mothers, the wolves pacing and shifting and howling and whining... He couldn't do that again. Not when the silence already weighed heavier than lead. “Dad… you said this was it, that we were done.”

“Yeah, with this group. But they aren’t the only monsters out there. And we’ll figure out how to cure them eventually. I’m going to take in a new pack and start in on some new ideas I’ve had about silver particles in blood transfusions-”

“... Dad.. No.” Austin thought about having to fire on the wolves, one by one. Watching the light leave their eyes, watching their frantic fight to live. The years of his life he'd spent holding them down while his mother or father tested things on them, feeling their chests rise and fall in frantic terror while they were restrained into stillness. His stomach flipped. He had to fight bile that threatened to rise in his throat, tensing all his aching muscles to try and distract himself with the pain. “Dad, you can’t. I… I can’t do all that shit again.”

“Austin, language-”

“No, Mom! I-I’m done. I’m so… I’m so done. I can’t do this any longer.”

Bill sighed, shaking his head. But he didn’t burst out in rage, like Austin expected. It was so much worse - he just looked profoundly, deeply, painfully disappointed. “You let them get too close to you. Started seeing them as people and not what they are. I should’ve expected it. Your little brother can take over your duties, but not until we bring Rusty home or get rid of the threat.”

Austin closed his eyes. One last thing, and then he could stop having to be a part of this? That… sounded like his father throwing him a lifeline.

Big brave man doing what Daddy says because then he'll let you quit.

If he lets you quit.

He grabbed onto it with white knuckles and took a deep breath. “Fine. Okay. So, we got off track. I... I told you I tracked him to the parking lot by the trails.”

“Right.” Bill nodded, thoughtfully. “But you lost him after that."

“He clearly got into a car with some campers, probably the ones whose camp he ran through. In any case, I, uh, I called the park ranger, said we'd had some poachers on our land." Austin's voice was a little breathier than he meant it to be. 

Bill's eyebrows raised, and he gestured with one hand for Austin to keep talking. 

"He wouldn't show me the security camera, some kind of regulation, but… but he said he got a record of the license plate.”

“He gave that to you?”

“After I gave him a hundred dollars, he did. I wrote it down, so... so we can do something with that, right?"

"Did he tell you what state it was from?"

"He did. Iowa."

Bill's expression finally cracked into a rare smile. Even Sandra relaxed, and Austin felt his own aching muscles soothing, too. "Well. That we can work with. We’ll finish things with Rusty and call that your resignation from the family business. I'll give you some cash to get you started, after that. And you'll promise to call your mother once a week."

"Once a week at least," Sandra added. "I'd like a few times a week, really. Oh, and maybe you'll meet a nice girl-"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Sandra," Bill said, but he'd softened, and Austin felt hope for the first time. He tried not to acknowledge it, afraid Bill would see the way his expression changed and feel the need to smash him back down again.

He cleared his throat. "I want to go live in a city somewhere.”

“Your mother and I fled that life for a reason, but I suppose every generation has to learn about the evils of cities all on their own.” Bill sighed, shaking his head. But Austin could tell this meeting was finally about to end. His bed waited, and Austin knew he'd barely make it upstairs to collapse into it.

Bill hummed. “Have a good night’s sleep, get yourself rested, and when you wake up you should pack your things for a trip. You and me are going to go track Rusty down before anyone else gets hurt."

Austin didn’t point out that the only ones who’d gotten hurt in this were the wolves. “Fine. Just the two of us?”

“You, me… and Koko.”

Koko's eyes opened again. They rested on Austin, briefly focused with an intensity that Austin had never seen in the young wolf's face before.

It occurred to Austin that maybe Rusty wasn't the wolf who wanted to rip his throat out the most.

-

@finder-of-rings  @burtlederp @deluxewhump @scoundrelwithboba @shrimpwritings 

@yassifiedinformation @wildfaewhump @whatwhump @honeycollectswhump @tundra-tiger

@dont-look-me-in-the-eye @there-will-always-be-blood @fangedcinnamonroll @pigeonwhumps @yassifiedinformation

[blasphemousclaw]

For send a character ask: Radahn!

ahh, Radahn… forever an enigma

• favorite thing about them

who he is as a person — his family background, his beliefs, and who he ultimately chooses to be — is so endlessly interesting to me. being a child of both the Erdtree and the Moon, growing up idolizing the Erdtree’s champions like his father and Godfrey, but being a talented sorcerer in his own right like his mother, was he conflicted when Radagon betrayed Rennala? did he ever come to resent his father, both for breaking his mother’s heart and for replacing his greatest idol, Godfrey? there’s something so significant to me about Radagon despising his red hair, and Radahn embracing that same hair he inherited as the mark of a champion. did this affect his relationship with Radagon? on the other hand, did he know that challenging the stars was also halting his Carian family’s fate? did he care? there’s such a fascinating back-and-forth between Radahn and both sides of his family!

• least favorite thing about them

his writing in the dlc… will never get over how botched it feels. and I’m not talking about the actual plot points, I’m talking about how those plot points were revealed to us in the story! the reason why everyone felt like him showing up was an asspull plot twist was because there’s no hint whatsoever in the base game that Miquella and Radahn ever had a relationship at all. as a result, I think the writers had to speedrun a Radahn-Miquella reveal plotline with Freyja and Ansbach, while cramming references to Radahn into the dlc (like the Red Bear npc, and his relationship to Gaius and Messmer) to make him seem less out of nowhere… but to me it just comes across as a rushed plotline with extremely clumsy foreshadowing. I guess they didn’t know they would get to make a dlc when they made the game so they didn’t include anything about him and Miquella in the base game so there wouldn’t be random plot threads that go nowhere, or they originally planned something slightly different that didn’t pan out so they had to rework it but were only able to do so in the dlc. either way extremely disappointing. also his promised consort remembrance weapons are the laziest excuse for a remembrance of all time they’re just the starscourge greatswords again but different. is this some kind of sick joke

• favorite line

[footage not found]

just kidding he does have a few quotes: I’ve always liked “I was born a champion’s cub. Now I am the Lord of the Battlefield’s lion.” because of what it says about how he sees Radagon and Godfrey!

• brOTP

Rykard :33 his painting of Radahn means so much to me, it’s such a fond gesture… and the abductor virgins in Caelid seem like Rykard was really looking out for him! it makes me sad to think that they might’ve once been really close but drifted apart because of the war and their own priorities, but also still cared about each other

• ОТР

I don’t actively ship him with anyone tbh nothing has especially caught my interest

• nОТР

I resent Radahn/Miquella ONLY because their relationship has no buildup whatsoever and completely breaks the “show don’t tell” rule of storytelling. we’re told Miquella admired Radahn, but we never see this until he shows up as the final boss! I definitely wouldn’t dislike this ship if they had handled this storyline better but unfortunately with how things went it’s just embarrassing to me

• random headcanon

loves the outdoors… camping, hiking, riding, hunting, any physical activity where he gets to be outside. Rykard is the opposite. Radahn used to bring him on trips and he’d complain the whole way through

• unpopular opinion

I wrote a post about this already, but I think people are too quick to assume that he’s a Golden Order loyalist who wants to preserve the world in its current state. you could go on and on listing reasons why he would actually oppose the current Order… and in fact I did go on and on about it here. I think the most crucial thing to note is that Radahn has always made idolizing Godfrey his entire personality, and Godfrey was literally banished… the Order is very different now from what it once was!

• song i associate with them

again I only listen to instrumental music so I don’t really have thoughts on this sorry 🥹

• favorite picture of them

the Rykard painting <3

I really like how he’s depicted here… he’s got like a mature, lined face, and the way the painting is displayed (in a nicely furnished drawing room above the fireplace) feels like a very public declaration of respect and admiration? I think it says something about Radahn’s character that his brother who despises the Golden Order still seems to look up to him and care for him!

[lulublack90]

Prompt 12 - Recovery

@wolfstarmicrofic July 12, word count 983

First part

So here it is as promised the second part to prompt 9 - hurt/comfort. There may be a third part 😅

He was nestled between Remus’s legs, leaning his back onto Remus’s chest, a thick, warm blanket covering him and Remus’s long, strong arms wrapped around him, holding him tight as if he might disappear at any moment. They were sitting as close to the fire as they could get without getting burned. 

The next full moon was close, and he could feel the wolf’s magic thrumming through his veins. He couldn’t understand how the rest of the pack wasn’t feeling as antsy.

“We’re just used to it,” One of the others said. Marcus, Sirius thought his name was.

“How did you know what I was thinking?” Sirius squirmed uncomfortably against Remus. After all the times his mother had forced her way into his mind to see what he’d been thinking and feeling, he had a huge aversion to anyone poking around in there. 

“It’s a wolf thing, we tend to block each other’s thoughts, but you’re screaming yours,” Marcus laughed loudly. “Believe me, I do not want to be in your head,” Marcus screwed up his face. Remus leaned his head forward and whispered into his ear. 

“Pretend there’s a wall around your mind. Yes, exactly like when you tried to block your mother out.”

“Wow, he got that quick. I can barely hear you now, it’s just a hum.” Marcus grinned at him.

Sirius let his head fall back against Remus, the warmth from his body, the blanket and the fire, lulling his tired body to sleep. 

He woke up on his side with Remus still wrapped around him. They were out in the open, the morning light waking the birds in the trees. He wiggled his body, testing his wounds. He felt great. He sat up, Remus’s arms dropping from his body and pulled up his top. The wounds that had been scabbing and red yesterday were now healed pink scars. Whatever they’d done to him yesterday had worked miracles. 

“Looks like the suppressant is out of your system,” Remus said from where he’d been sleeping. “Those claw marks should have looked like that weeks ago,” He added, tracing the marks on Sirius’s skin with his fingertips like Sirius had done to him so many times before. “I’m so sorry,” Remus had tears in his eyes, his jaw quivering as he tried to apologise. Sirius immediately lay back down, facing Remus and hugged him tight. 

“It’s not your fault. We’re together now and that’s all that matters.” He peppered kisses on every bit of skin he could reach. He brushed the tears away from Remus’s cheeks and held him tighter. This had always been Remus’s biggest fear, that he’d turn someone or worse, while in his wolf form. 

He found it strange that no one had disturbed them. Yesterday there were close to thirty people in the clearing. He spotted a few shadows winding through the trees and realised that they were giving them their space. He snuggled closer to Remus and savoured the time they had together. 

The other wolves were polite and didn’t ask many questions over the next couple of days, though Sirius was sure they were holding back. Sirius was dying to ask what was going to happen to him, but with Remus there, he guessed it wouldn’t be bad. He’d spotted Greyback a few times, but the pack leader hadn’t approached him, so he kept his distance.

The night of the full moon came. He stuck close to Remus, nervous of being with so many wolves. This would be his first time not alone in a tiny stone dungeon. The aches had started with the sunrise, and he had a ridiculous amount of energy. He ended up changing into Padfoot and racing around the camp to tire himself out. Apparently, some of the others quite enjoyed watching him and chased after him around the grass and between the trees. They were quick, but he was quicker. He finally flopped down next to Remus, panting and needing to catch his breath. 

Soon the sun began to set and the wolves gathered. Sirius and Remus followed the others into the wood away from the camp. They’d all stripped to preserve their clothes. Sirius had felt a bit self-conscious at first, but seeing the others not caring, he decided to just go with it.

It hurt like he knew it would. His body was torn apart and reformed to make way for the wolf fighting to be free, but once it was over he had Moony and the other wolves checking on him and making sure he was alright. 

It was the first time his wolf was free. He lifted his head and relished the feeling of the wind in his fur and the scents of the forest. Moony and Marcus’s wolf had to keep redirecting him when he strayed too far from the others, but there were so many interesting things in the forest that he simply had to discover. 

He woke up in the camp exhausted. He forced his eyes open and found Remus watching him. 

“You tired, sweetheart?” Remus asked, smirking at him. Sirius groaned and let his protesting eyelids shut. Remus chuckled at him. “Don’t worry, my love. You were determined to go on an adventure. Marcus and I spent the entire night herding you.” He stroked Sirius’s hair out of his face. “You sleep, sweetheart. I think you need it. I’ll get you up in a bit.” Remus kissed his forehead and left him to sleep. 

Turning into a werewolf was a scary thing. The recovery from the transformation and staying up all night was a lot, but so far, Sirius was just glad he could be with Remus and that he wasn’t alone. He had no idea what Voldemort had planned for him, but he was sure now that he’d had his first moon with the pack, he was about to find out.

Next part

[primalsouls]

Nilotpala Lotus

tighnari x m! reader

moon, tell me if i could

send off my heart to you

theme: general, fluff

warning: a teeny tiny mention of nipple piercing, allergic reactions, 1.5k word count, little ooc Tighnari(?)

summary: Tighnari, Cyno, and Collei decided to go on a walk and patrol the Avidya Forest for a couple of hours, but before an hour can even be completed, they were met with a loud shierk.

notes: I've been thinking about tighnari a lot lately and wanted to write something that kept coming to mind, haha. im also writing pt. 3 of Inner Visions, but the motivation comes and goes every three to five business days. currently has over 350 words that fic lol. please, someone talk to me about Tighnari (╥﹏╥) i need more of him 😔 also meant to make this short under 1.5k words, but i guess i dont know my own limits. xD comments & reblogs are appreciated!

Tighnari, Collei, and Cyno were out on a walk when they came across a loud shriek. Tighnari flinched and covered his ears right away, wincing at the loudness. Cyno and Collei looked around before another yell was heard. The trio quickly picked up their pace and headed in the direction of the sound. As they got near, the fennec fox was able to pick up more than one voice. Panic filled in them. Cyno took the lead, his polearm already in hand. Tighnari followed behind, keeping a close watch on Collei next to him.

“—should we do!? Is he gonna die!?” The high-pitched voice sounded familiar to Tighnari. Shrill and panicked. So loud, it made the dendro user flattened his long ears against his head. When the trio reached the area where the voices were heard, Cyno held a hand up to stop on their tracks, his grip on his polearm tightened to be ready to use. He was the first one to walk closer with cautious steps.

“He's gonna pass out, compadre! He's burning up!” Now there was an unfamiliar voice. The electro user peeked over the large tree that stood between them and the owners of the previous voices. A small flash of shock crossed his features and turned to look back at his two friends.

“It's the traveler and Paimon with two unfamiliar faces.” Cyno reported. When he confirmed their identities, the trio walked around the tree and up to the small group. Tighnari looked at the sight.

As Cyno mentioned, Paimon floated beside Aether, her small hands covering her face as she floated back and forth with a scared look. Aether was crouched next to an unknown face. He wore a concerned expression on his face, trying to keep a calm demeanor as he kept a hand on the back of the first stranger. Beside them was a white haired, tall man with red markings and horns sticking out on the front of his head. He also wore a panicked look. Between Aether and the other fellow was a (hair color) male who looked fatigued and had reddened skin, almost looking like he had a fever. His eyes were casted down on the ground and his breathing sounded irregular.

“Aether, what's going on?” Cyno broke the tensed air around the group. Aether and Paimon looked over and relief washed over their faces. The traveler stood up after making sure the other man was sitting comfortably against a log before he walked over to Cyno with Paimon. “Is he alright?”

“No, he's not! (Name) suddenly felt sick!” Paimon exclaimed, a pout on her small face. Aether gave a small smile before telling the floating child not to exaggerate the situation. “We were just coming from Liyue and were taking a small break. Aether and (Name) stayed in this camp of ours to make snacks while Bull-chucker Itto and I went out and gathered some wood for the fire.” Paimon explained after calming down. Cyno glanced at the two Paimon was referring to, nodding his head for the story to continue. Tighnari stepped closer to the fatigued male Paimon called (Name), but kept his distance. He only studied to see what was wrong with him, a small frown on his face.

The man certainly had reddened skins around the nape of his neck and forearms. His face was flushed like he had a fever and his eyes looked exhausted. Their (color) eyes glanced up at him. Tighnari let out an apology as he stepped back again.

“(Name) was fine with me. Paimon and Itto here came back with wood and a couple of the Nilotpala Lotus.” Aether continued, pointing down at the small pile of wood beside the log his friend rested against. The two Nilotpala Lotus he mentioned were scattered away from (Name), as if someone dropped them without a care. Tighnari turned his attention to the two lotuses with a tilt of his head, his hand taking hold of his chin as he put himself in thought. “Then out of nowhere, (Name) said he felt terrible and almost faint on us. He started to get red on his arms and said he was having a hard time breathing.”

“Paimon thought he was gonna die!” Paimon said, floating next to (Name).

“C'mon, Flying Lavender Melon, (Name) is too strong to die!” Itto said, a frown on his face. Paimon nodded in agreement, a look of determination on her own face. Aether shook his head as he let out a sigh.

“He might have an allergic reaction to the Nilotpala Lotus.” Tighnari broke their conversation. Their eyes turned on him. Paimon and Itto glanced at each other in shock. “He has shortness of breath, an itching rash, and a fever.” The forest watcher leaned a bit over (Name) as his eyes squinted. “And hives. His eyes are also watery. Have you been sneezing?” He asked, crouching next to (Name). He nodded, his lips parted slightly as he took swallow breaths. “We have to take him back to the Gandharva Ville. I could prepare him a quick relief cream for the rash and hives.” Tighnari stood up, crossing his arms over his chest. “This must be your first time in Sumeru, if I'm guessing. You never came in contact with Nilotpala Lotus before, so he must not know he was allergic to it. Who gave you the lotuses?’ The watcher tilted his head before turning his attention to Paimon and Itto, both wearing a guilty look.

“Paimon swears we didn't know! We just found the lotuses pretty and decided to give it to (Name) because he said he had never seen a Nilotpala Lotus.” Paimon explained quickly as Itto nodded along.

“Yeah, if we knew that our amigo was allergic to the flower, we wouldn't have given it to him!” The oni added in, his hands held up in defense. Tighnari sighed as he shook his head.

“Just help bring him in. When we get to the ville, you can take him to my room. C'mon, let's go.” With the help of Cyno and Itto, (Name) stood up. His legs almost gave out but Itto held him close. Aether reassured the others he would catch up with Collei, who decided to help stay behind to clean around the camp with Paimon.

The trip back to the ville wasn't too long, luckily they weren't too far off. Cyno and Itto helped (Name) lay on Tighnari's bed. The forest watcher busied himself in his corner preparing the cream. Thankfully the cryo user wasn't deadly allergic to the lotus. When the cream was ready, Tighnari knocked before he walked in. (Name) laid on his side. “I've brought the cream. Should help relieve some of the itchiness and hives, reducing the rash as well. I've also prepared medicine to help lower down your fever and a gel to apply on your chest and back so you can breathe with no trouble.” Tighnari placed the small bowls and bottle on the nightstand next to his bed. He turned to the other man who carefully sat up with a pained groan. “Here, let me help you apply them, if it's fine with you of course.”

Once given the go to, the long eared fox removed his gloves. He helped the guy remove his shirt, taken a bit back when he was met with a tattooed back of two vicious tigers in red lining. Tighnari cleared his throat and picked up the cream, scooping a bit up with a few fingers. He gently rubs the cream on the reddened part of the skin, watching (Name) let out a satisfying sigh. He could tell the (hair color) man closed his eyes and leaned into his touch. Tighnari continued to apply the cream on the nape of his neck behind. With the cream applied, he cleaned his hand with a wet rug he had brought with himself and took the other bowl, this time the gel. Like the cream, he scooped the gel and massaged it on the back of (Name). The feverish man turned when asked to let the watchleader place the gel on his chest. Once again, he was taken back, this time by the sight of scars and pierced buds. Tighnari tried not to let his stunned look linger as he finished off with the gel, cleaning his hands once more.

Clearing his throat, Tighnari stood up from the bed and looked away from (Name), placing the bowls on the nightstand. “Um, you c-can go ahead and drink a spoonful of the last medicine.” The fox-hybrid was surprised with his stuttered words. What was going on? “After that, you should rest. I'll, uh, I'll bring you dinner when it's ready.” Without a second word spared, Tighnari left his own area. (Name) blinked, thinking nothing wrong about the forest watcher's behavior. Taking his advice, he laid back down on his side and took a nice deep breath for once, smiling a little as breathing became easier to do again. He closed his eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep. Now, it was time for the night to fall upon them all.

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 77

While Mosspounce’s bruises heal, the broken bone takes one of Downstar’s lives.

[Image ID: Mosspounce and Downstar are healed. Under Mosspounce, it says - CONDITION: BRUISES. Under Downstar, it says - CONDITION: BROKEN BONE, LIVES LEFT: 2.]

(Mosspounce: 38, male, caretaker, adventurous, talented fire-starter)

(Downstar: 136, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

A rogue asks the Clan to care for their son, Shrew, now that he is weaned.

[Image ID: Oilstripe, Carnationspeckle, and Waspdawn find a red kit. Under the three of them, it says - CONDITION: GRIEVING. Under the kit, it says NEW PLAYER: SHREWKIT, 1, MALE, BOSSY, NEVER SITS STILL.]

---

There were no safe patrols anymore. In Oilstripe’s mind, she could see what Anchovypaw reported every time he returned from patrol; black ichor smearing the grass and trees, the spiritual residue of monsters that lurked in the corner of your eye. Everyone knew that was why Silverpaw never returned to camp. Perhaps it was also why Oilstripe never saw the young molly’s spirit. Troutpool’s dreams simply told her Silverpaw had made it to the stars… eventually. That was why no apprentice could leave camp alone. That was why even the senior warriors asked for a few extra eyes to accompany them, even when not on patrol.

Today, Oilstripe had Carnationspeckle and Waspdawn to watch her back as they marked their borders. Haunted or not, RippleClan couldn’t give Gentlestar or Eelstar any ideas about expanding their territory in RippleClan’s time of crisis. They patrolled along AshClan's border first, spreading their scent wherever it smelled weak.

"Do you think anyone over there mourned for Weedfoot?" Carnationspeckle asked as Waspdawn finished marking a tree that sat right on the border.

"I'm sure of it," Oilstripe huffed.

"She saved their flanks," Waspdawn muttered, rejoining the couple. "They should be honored my mother deigned to help them." Deep within AshClan territory, the spirit of one of their warriors strolled through the trees. Even though they ignored Oilstripe, she felt the need to dip her head to the StarClan warrior. They could have killed one of the Ashes in the Water, for all she knew, but it felt right. It felt like the sort of diplomacy a deputy should show the former members of a different Clan.

"Who's that?" Carnationspeckle asked, her gaze following Oilstripe's. The ginger molly startled. Did her mate see the spirit too? But then Waspdawn's focus settled on something within the trees. Oilstripe's shock faded when a tortoiseshell, a living tortoiseshell, walked through the StarClan ghost. She carried a bright red kit in her jaws. The kit had a sharp blaze of white on his forehead that reminded Oilstripe of a star, or a half-moon set against a sunset. Oilstripe didn't recognize the tortoiseshell, but she knew her escorts. Barkfur walked beside the tortoiseshell, with Heronflank and newly graduated warrior Fernwhisper behind them.

"Ah, Deputy Oilstripe," Barkfur sighed as he approached the border. "Good, good. It's better we don't wait around."

"Who's this little tom?" Carnationspeckle purred, sniffing the red kitten.

"I'm Shrew," the kitten declared, wiggling as much as he could with his scruff in his mother's mouth. "Mom, let me go!" Shrew's mother obliged, placing her son at her paws. Shrew immediately tried to race off, but his mother hooked a paw around him.

"You're not an AshClan cat," Waspdawn noted.

"I hail from the northwest," the queen explained. "I… I've heard stories that the Clans take in kits whose mothers can't care for them."

"We…" Carnationspeckle said, blinking rapidly as she processed what the queen wanted. "We do. My daughter was one of those kits."

"We found her wandering our territory," Barkfur said. "We explained to her that AshClan isn't taking in cats from outside the Clan, but that RippleClan may be more open to assisting her."

"And we will, if that's what you want," Waspdawn said, dipping his head to the queen. "But.. why can't you care for Shrew?"

"He's the last of his litter," the queen sighed as Shrew, oblivious to the adults around him, nipped at his mother's grasp. "They all fell ill, I'm worried it's in their blood. I thought Clan medicine could help my son."

"He seems healthy to me," Carnationspeckle hummed. Shrew finally broke away from his mother and tumbled across the border. He chomped onto Oilstripe's leg with sharp kitten teeth. Oilstripe yelped and batted the excitable kit off.

"Very healthy," Waspdawn chuckled.

"So did his siblings," the queen gulped.

"You don't have to give him away," Oilstripe explained as Shrew gawked at Waspdawn's half-tail. "You can join RippleClan as well. We've accepted a few mothers in your position."

"I can't," the queen whined, flinching. "I'm sorry, I can't. I'm destined for the Other Side. I don't belong here. I waited until he, he, he was weaned, but… this is better. He deserves better than me." The queen looked to Barkfur and sighed, "I'm ready to go now."

"RippleClan will treat your son well," Barkfur promised. "We'll escort you to the river." He nodded to Heronflank and Fernwhisper, ready to depart.

"That's it?" Oilstripe huffed as Shrew finally paid attention to his mother. "No, you… you should tell your son something."

"Tell me what?" Shrew cocked his head. The queen stared back, her posture stiff. She swallowed hard. She kept opening her mouth, ready to explain, but she lost her courage each time.

"I'll see you in a while, Shrew," she finally croaked. She spun around before she could falter. Heronflank and Fernwhisper led Barkfur and the queen through the thick blankets of golden needles, under the gray-speckled leaves that clung to the trees, refusing to acknowledge the coming winter.

"You didn't give us your name!" Carnationspeckle suddenly yowled. Yet the queen didn't turn back. Her escort led her farther and farther from her only remaining kit.

"I know her name," Shrew huffed. "It's Mom."

A short while later, Shrew sat in the nursery while Troutpool put her nose in his ear, checking for fever. Oilstripe, Carnationspeckle, and Downstar sat around her, waiting for a diagnosis. Shrew laughed when Troutpool pulled her nose out. He itched his ear and ogled the Clan's vast medicine stores.

"He needs a better diet," Troutpool sighed, "but he's a healthy young tom. I don't see any signs of disease."

"Could his mother have lied about his littermates?" Downstar asked Oilstripe. "Perhaps she just wanted an excuse to give her child away."

"Why don't you ask her?" Shrew shot back, a tiny paw reaching for a pot. "She said she's coming back." Troutpool gently shoved his paw away.

"He doesn't understand," Carnationspeckle whispered. "I think he's too young."

"We could have Paleseed explain things to him," Downstar suggested.

"Maybe we let him believe that until he's settled into RippleClan," Carnationspeckle said.

"Mom?" Rattlepelt and Wildclaw trotted to the medicine den, peering around the older mollies. Leaves clung to Rattlepelt's fox pelt, mixing with the carefully woven lavender. Wildclaw crouched and scanned under Downstar's legs.

"Hi, Rattlepelt," Carnationspeckle purred, absent-mindedly touching her daughter's nose before turning back to Shrew. "We're a little busy right now. Can we talk later?"

"Halibut told us about the kit," Wildclaw huffed. "Rattlepelt insisted we meet him."

"That's a bit of a bold word," Rattlepelt chuckled. "I just suggested we stop by the medicine den."

"What are you?" Shrew gaped at Rattlepelt with giant blue eyes. There was no fear in his stare, like when a new apprentice met Rattlepelt at a Gathering and Oilstripe had to hide their shock from her adopted daughter. His gaze was more like emerging from the darkest level of the ocean into the sun.

"I'm a cat," Rattlepelt laughed. She squeezed around Carnationspeckle and sat next to Shrew. "My name is Rattlepelt, and this is my mate, Wildclaw." Shrew put his paws on Rattlepelt's fox pelt and his eyes grew bigger. He shoved his face into the red fur, purring.

"You're so soft!" Shrew gasped.

"Why don't you play with it?" Rattlepelt suggested. "Just be very careful." Rattlepelt slipped off her fox pelt and laid it in front of Shrew.

"You can take your fur off?" Shrew squealed. While that idea would have disturbed Oilstripe at Shrew's age, the little kit simply dove into the leather pelt, rolling in the well-groomed fur. Wildclaw laughed, and even Downstar managed to chuckle.

"I heard your mother asked us to take care of you," Rattlepelt said, laying beside Shrew. "My mother did the same thing when I was a kit. It was a little scary, but I'm glad she gave me up. I got Carnationspeckle and Oilstripe as my new mothers, and I'm very happy in RippleClan."

"You can have more than one mom?" Shrew sat up, the fox's tail covering his face.

"You can," Rattlepelt purred. She gazed tenderly at Shrew as he sniffed the fox pelt's lavender accents. She turned to Wildclaw, beckoning her inside. Wildclaw sat by her mate, similarly entranced by the little red kitten.

"You know, Shrew," Wildclaw purred, "now that you're staying with us, you'll get to sleep in the nursery. We don't want you to be lonely in there. If you want, Rattlepelt and I can move in with you. You can share a nest with us."

"Can I sleep with this?" Shrew asked, his teeth digging into the fox pelt.

"You can," Rattlepelt laughed, voice catching. She turned to Wildclaw, whispering, "Are you sure you want this? I don't want to hurt him."

"When it's just you in there," Wildclaw chuckled, gently batting Rattlepelt's head, "you'd die before you hurt a kit. You'll be great." Wildclaw and Rattlepelt snuggled against each other.

"Congratulations," Troutpool chirped, bunting her older sister. "Oh, I get to be an aunt! I'll make sure there's a nest ready for you." She squirmed around the other mollies and hurried to the nursery, squealing like a kit.

"Welcome to grandmotherhood, you two," Downstar chuckled, playfully nudging Oilstripe and Carnationspeckle.

"My heart was not ready for this," Oilstripe laughed awkwardly, trying to breathe.

"Shrew, from now on, you can call me Grandma," Carnationspeckle declared, diving to Shrew's level.

"I will!" Shrew chirped, utterly unaware of the implications. Carnationspeckle squealed and pressed against Rattlepelt with a deep purr. Oilstripe joined the family gathering, her heart expanding to make way for her bright, enthusiastic grandson.

(Oilstripe: 81, female, deputy, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Carnationspeckle: 79, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Waspdawn: 43, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

(Shrewkit: 1, male, kit, bossy, never sits still)

(Troutpool: 38, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sense)

(Downstar: 136, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Rattlepelt: 60, female, artisan, thoughtful, leather artist)

(Wildclaw: 69, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter)

Moontide, Vervaincough, Anchovystrike, and Billowhaze graduate from their apprenticeships together.

[Image ID: Moontide, Vervaincough, Anchovystrike, and Billowhaze are all grown up! Under Moontide, it says LEVEL UP! MOONPAW → MOONTIDE, QUICK TO HELP → EXCELLENT TEACHER. Under Vervaincough, it says LEVEL UP! VERVAINPAW → VERVAINCOUGH, BLOODTHIRSTY → INSECURE, LOVES NATURE → UNDERSTANDS NATURE, QUICK TO MAKE PEACE → GOOD MEDIATOR. Under Anchovystrike, it says LEVEL UP! ANCHOVYPAW → ANCHOVYSTRIKE, CURIOUS ABOUT STARCLAN → DEEP STARCLAN BOND. Under Billowhaze, it says LEVEL UP! BILLOWPAW → BILLOWHAZE, THOUGHTFUL → LOYAL, ACTIVE IMAGINATION → GOOD KITSITTER.]

(Moontide: 12, female, warrior, playful, excellent teacher)

(Vervaincough: 12, female, codekeeper, insecure, understands nature, good mediator)

(Anchovystrike: 12, male, warrior, playful, deep StarClan bond)

(Billowhaze: 12, male, historian, loyal, good kitsitter)

During their assessments, Currentpaw and Yarrowpaw find a former kittypet/Witch Hunter interested in joining the Clan. He takes on the name Venturedapple and becomes a codekeeper.

[Image ID: Currentpaw and Yarrowpaw stare at a long-furred brown and white tom. Under the tom, it says NEW PLAYER: VENTUREDAPPLE, 65, MALE, COLD, ELOQUENT SPEAKER.]

(Currentpaw: 12, male, caretaker, loving, constantly climbing, has lots of ideas)

(Yarrowpaw: 12, female, warrior apprentice, thoughtful, stares at fire)

(Venturedapple: 65, male, codekeeper, cold, eloquent speaker)

[leighsartworks216]

I Come With Knives Pt3

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Class is over and I am finally back home so I can post this chapter here now lmao

Warnings: trauma, blood, blood drinking, violence, fear, self-destructive coping mechanism, emotional abuse, physical abuse (grabbing, pulling)

I can add more just lemme know what I missed <3

Word Count: 1,050

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

She haunts you again tonight. You could feel her hands running over your body, tugging your head to one side as she dug her teeth into the mark on your neck. You see her ruby red eyes, dark with desire for your blood, stare at you as she drinks, deeper and deeper until you can’t feel anything. Her smile, lips painted red with gore, as she coos you to unconsciousness.

You refuse another attempt at sleep. Your lids are heavy, your bones feel like jelly, but you can’t bear to go through this song and dance every night. You didn’t have her here to remove all rational thought and send you off into dreamlessness. And while it pleases you endlessly to be away, you wish for just one night where you don’t see her. The only time that’s happened so far was after Astarion came to you, begging for something more substantial to eat. His eyes, the same shade but somehow softer than hers, as he kissed your hand.

The moon and stars offered you no solace tonight. The moon was new - a shadow against the already-dark sky. The stars were covered by clouds. Laying still, on your back, made you restless. You could almost picture Kir Parthene crawling over you, straddling you between her legs.

Astarion finds you after his hunt, tending to the fire. It'd been close to cinders when he left, but now it burnt as though it'd never gone out. You threw dry twigs onto it and stoked it with a longer branch. He sat down next to you.

"If you keep staying up like this, dear, you won't be able to fight." His tone was teasing, but his eyes betrayed his concern. "Is it her again?"

You shudder and tighten yourself into a ball, protecting yourself from the dangers of the world. "I can't stop dreaming about her," you whisper. Your voice shakes; you're terrified of the hold she has over you. "She's always just... there. Lingering. Waiting."

The light flickers against you both. It's pleasantly warm. The shadows it throws only accentuate your exhaustion, deepening the circles forming under your eyes. Even Astarion doesn't look as tired as you.

The tadpole squirms behind your eye, swishing back and forth. You can feel Astarion's reaching out. "You don't want to see it."

"No," he agrees. "But I want to know." You look at him from the corner of your eye. His face is set. Serious. "Show me."

The tadpole doesn't stop wriggling as you think. You dig your fingers into your pants, searching for any way to ground yourself here, now, in this camp, surrounded by allies and friends. And you let him in.

He's immediately thrown into a memory - or perhaps something stitched together from your dreams. He sees through your eyes. He's terrified. His heart is racing against his ribcage, pounding so hard he's breathless.

The door slams open. A woman, tall and beautiful and vicious, marches in. "On the bed," she commands. It's almost a shout. He can't scramble fast enough. She grabs him by the hair and tosses him in the center.

But he doesn't make a sound. He knows, somehow, that screaming would only make it worse. Any sign of pain - she would tear you apart.

There is nothing erotic or sensual in the way she mounts you, grabbing your arm to pull your shoulder down as she rips your head to one side. He's suddenly aware of his nudity. He's on display, showing everyone just who he belongs to.

She digs her teeth into his throat, biting so hard and deep he fears she may rip out his jugular. She drinks deeply, messily. Blood drips steadily onto the bed. He can hear her gasping and sucking and- too much. It's too much.

His head spins, but he can't say anything. He can't feel his fingers, or his body. He can't feel anything. His eyes fight to stay open as he stares at the ceiling - an intricate painting of angels and devils lining the dome-shaped structure. And he's praying. He can feel it - thoughts just at the back of his mind, whispered a million times before, begging for anyone to save him. To spare his life. To live another day. Another hour.

Kir Parthene pulls away, drawing the blood on her chin to her lips with the swipe of a finger. She smiles. Wicked. Pleased. He wants to whimper and back away as she leans down, caressing his cheek and kissing his forehead, but he can't. He can't, because if he does, he'll be punished.

"My good pet," she purrs. "Sleep. Sleep, my precious little thing."

His head hurts as he's shot back to his own mind. He winces around the ache as he turns to you.

You're no longer shuddering. No longer gripping tightly to your pants. You stare into the fire with glazed over eyes. You're numb. Seeing it all again surpassed your fear and hollowed you out. Gutted you until you're nothing but a shell.

Regret and guilt sit uneasy in his chest. He reaches out slowly, delicately touching your arm.

And you gasp. Tears fall from your eyes in an instant, fear and the need to protect yourself turning to upset and sorrow. You shut your eyes tightly, hands rubbing roughly at the scar on your neck, like you'll remember you weren't bitten tonight. But you're going to scratch it open, and he's even more terrified of how you'll react if you do.

He grabs your wrists and hold your hands away. You fight against him, but not because you have to get away. You just need to feel that she's not there. "It's alright, love. You're alright. She's not here. She won't get you." He's not even worried about waking the others up - all he can focus on is you.

Slowly, your strength dies. You sob. It's ugly and broken, and more emotion than you'd ever let show around your master. He hushes you and lets go of your wrists to hold your shoulders. You cover your face. Your whole body shakes, wracked with each heaving breath.

"You're okay," he whispers again. He can hear shuffling as the others are awoken. He can't even begin to explain your pain to them. "You're safe. I promise."

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnlovesloki @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle

[jelly-spring-boy]

Mark, and Ricky the cat

IF YOU LIKE, PLEASE REBLOG!!

[saltofmercury]

"Moon"

Pairing: König x reader

Summary: König thinks about how he got here with you.

A/N: Small blurb I after I read this quote below. Enjoy :)

"Moon"

“We’re both looking at the same moon, in the same world. We’re connected to reality by the same line. All I have to do is quietly draw it towards me.”

—Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart

Surrounded by dirt and sand, in the middle of the desert, he sits there staring at the moon. The fire they just made is put out. Smoke goes up in the air and disappears. He looks at the sky, how the moon lights up the night and makes him miss home. He’s been wandering around with his team attempting to find his target. First in a forest, where he was eaten alive by bugs, then camping out near a desert, where he had to skillfully not die from dehydration. He’s in unfamiliar territory, and it’s nothing that he hasn’t done before, but everything now feels unreal.

How he was just in the forest over 24 hours ago, but now he's in a desert camping out. Sometimes it feels that way on missions, he’s not fully there. He’s often someone else, in another body, completing the tasks of others. He sometimes takes pleasure in those killings, breaking jaws, spilling guts, and blood across his gloves. It’s not like him. There’s a thin line between delusion and fantasy. 

The only thing tying him to reality is the moon.

The moon that has been there for him as a child, the same one you two looked up at on your first date. His fingers intertwined with yours, he could smell your shampoo in the air, and looked carefully at you, how the moon kissed and lit up your face.

He wishes he could feel you, hear you, see you. Being far from you makes his heart ache for you. Sleeping alone has become one of his current struggles while away.

He sometimes stares at the moon through the window in your room, traces and follows the light, how it curves on your face, how peaceful the moon is towards you and him in the same bed. 

He remembers as a boy staring at the moon when he had no friends, no connection to anyone. How the moon looked lonely to him, maybe the moon was created and placed there for him.

He wondered how people did it on Saturn, where they had 83 moons, a different moon being discovered every day, were there lonely little boys like him on that planet?

He lays down, puts his arms behind his head, breathes in, expecting to hear your breathing echoing off next to him. But it’s silent. 

But then there’s some shuffling around, Horangi next to him sits up, one arm under his head, the other in front of him.

“Hey König, are you not sleeping yet?”

“No”

“Hey König.. you thinking about aein?” Hornagi asks again, a slight tease to his sentence.

König keeps his eye on the moon. Couldn’t believe there was someone tethered to him in this world. 

When he was a boy, his mother— the romantic, had told him about the connection everyone has from a red string. 

“There’s someone out there for everyone,” she whispered to him one night, after he cried from the bullying at school.

“You can’t see the red string, because it was placed by a jealous person, only they can see the invisible red string that connects you to your partner.” She squeezed him tight, rubbed his back.

“Maybe your partner is also staring at the moon like you.”

König thought this was stupid. He told himself there wasn’t anyone in this world for him, which is why he took pleasure in the work he did. A monster at school, became a monster on the field. Nobody could want him then, why would they now? He continued to distance himself from any sort of acquaintance.

Until he met you, someone who by chance had met him in this universe, this lifetime, and decided to begin a life with him. Were you always there? How long were you waiting? Why did you keep him waiting?

Someone who never has enough of him, he touches his chest where you left your marks all over him the night before he left. He smiles to himself. Remembering where each bite and kiss was placed. How your lips were raw and plump the morning he woke up next to you. He woke up 3 hours before he needed to leave to just stare at you sleeping. He would miss the moon lighting your face at night. He would miss waking up next to you. Making your coffee, feeling the warmth of someone laying next to him. He had to practically drag himself out the door to say goodbye.

He thinks of all the things that needed to happen before you two came together. He thinks of how he needed to be here, enduring this hardship, joining KorTac in order to have met you. Would you have crossed paths any other way? He knows for sure he wouldn’t have met you in Austria. 

Maybe his mom was right. Maybe the universe had rewarded him for his patience.

He pictures how the universe knew to make you for him. He holds up his hand to the moon, the outline of his humongous hand, how it overtakes yours, and fits so perfectly with his. He can wrap his hand across the side of your face, his thumb tracing your bottom lip, his middle finger touching your ear. He gently kisses your face at night. 

He touches his lips, imagines how your lips feel against his when you kiss for too long and you begin to giggle, or when you're in a serious makeout session and it hungrily pries his mouth open. 

He settles back into the makeshift sleeping bag, still staring at the moon. He’ll be home soon, and he can go back to reality.

He’s so happy the universe rewarded him. 

He imagines you looking up at the moon as well, waiting for him too.

[scary-tingz]

Slashers + Valentine’s Day

A/N: A little late to the party but ah well! (Edited to be more gender neutral!)

Slashers Included: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Freddy Krueger, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Sinclair Brothers

Warnings: NSFW themes ahead, reader wearing lingerie, mention of blood, organs, bugs

Michael Myers

You’d think someone like Michael would give less of a shit about the holidays, but now that he has a partner he seems to care at least a little bit about ones outside of Halloween.

He’s not gonna put on a big show, but he will appear from the hallway with blood on one arm, damn near past his elbow. Attached to his hand is a big bloody heart, how sweet.

He grabs your hands and wraps them around it, the bundle of red warmth still pulsing faintly in your grip. He squeezes them, his hands against yours. There’s a bloody mess on the floor now, but you know better to complain about such a thoughtful gift.

He stalked the biggest toughest guy he could find just to be sure the heart would be huge, and then he took it for his lover. Try putting it in a jar with some celsior if you don’t want it to spoil, maybe decorate it with some stickers and fake flowers. He’d be more than happy to work on some diy decorations for the container.

He doesn’t expect anything from you, but any gifts received will be cherished and promptly stored in his room as either a decoration or in the droor he has especially for you.

Jason Voorhees

You’d have to remind him of the day, he doesn’t really bother to count them to be quite honest.

I’m not sure he even knows what Valentine’s Day is, as he never really got to experience the holiday as a child. None of the other kids would give him candy and it’s more likely that his mother would keep him in the house for the day to spare him the embarrassment and humiliation.

Buuut upon hearing your explanation of the day he immediately gets up and marches off to go find you the prettiest forest flowers and the tastiest edible berries he can find!

If you get lucky and have some campers on that day he’ll slay them for their chocolate and steal anything red, white, or pink in your honor.

If you get him a gift he’ll be over the moon, picking you up and spinning you around, fawning over it all day and generally slacking on his usual duties of maintaining the camp. As long as he isn’t ignoring anything too pressing, let him have his moment and enjoy whatever you gave him.

Thomas Hewitt

Luda Mae is sure to remind the two of you as the days draw closer, since there’s actually a couple in the house to celebrate it for.

Normally she’d glance at the calendar and sigh as she marked the day off, shaking her head in disappointment that none of her boys found someone yet… Then you came along, and she’s probably happier about the holiday then you and Tommy are!

She even gets the neighbors to come over and celebrate, they throw the most glorious tea party! Luda and the tea lady do most of the baking while Henrietta prepares the tea, chatting on about the leaves she’s using and how lovely a couple you and Tommy are… Of course Charlie is none too pleased, but when is he ever?

Away from it all, Tommy presents you with a thoughtful gift he’s been working on for a while. In his basement resides a romantic bone sculpture of two figures kissing, one resembling him and the other resembling you. It’s made out of bones both big and small, and isn’t entirely complete yet.

It’s no Sinclair masterpiece but you’d be remiss to not appreciate his craftsmanship, he must have spent ages scavenging and collecting all of the pieces for that.

He pretends like he isn’t expecting anything from you, but a little part of him hopes you made something for him. Even if it’s something small he’d love it, keeping it in his room at all times so that he can look at it when he needs to calm down.

Bubba Sawyer

Sadly the fanfare in the Hewitt household is virtually nonexistent with this particular iteration of the slaughter family.

You and Bubs hardly get the chance to kiss without Drayton waving his broomstick around like a madman, warding him away from you and telling y’all to get back to work.

But when you two finally get some alone time, he gives you the gift he’s been hiding for a while now.

It’s a mask of your very own, cut from a victim who resembles you slightly. The flesh has been preserved and covered in makeup to give the illusion that the skin is still lively, despite the grim looking backside.

Bubba is the kind of guy that you could give a pebble for Valentine’s so long as you went through a great deal of convincing him it was special, and he’d love it.

You end the night with a slow dance, Nubbins and Chop Top hopping around like crickets despite the slow pace of the love song on the radio. They’re just happy that their brother is happy, even though they tease you two lovebirds all the time.

Freddy Krueger

DO NOT FALL ASLEEP OR TAKE A NAP UNTIL NIGHT TIME. YOUR DREAM WILL BE WET.

Unless you want to wake up at your job/school moaning and screaming, be sure to catch your Z’s.

He’ll visit you the night before, claiming to have something special planned for you tomorrow. He’ll likely tease you all night long and then wake you up early before you can cum. You wake up unsatisfied, and will have to finish the job yourself for the time being.

All bets are off when you get home and finally rest.

When you wake up in your dream, the world around you is colored as though you’re looking through rose-tinted shades. The man of your dreams honks his horn outside of your house, and you get in the car. You do everything you’ve ever wanted to do with a partner, but such a pleasant dream can only last so long with Freddy.

By the time you and the handsome stranger are about to enter the bedroom the scenario devolves into the usual Krueger-brand madness that you’ve become accustomed to. You wait patiently for him to stop trying to scare you and start trying to fuck you, which he eventually does when he sees you’re no longer amused by the walls melting into roaches and the floors being made of squishy organs.

You go at it in a ridiculously tacky bedroom, a California king sized bed with red and green striped covers and a steel spiked bed frame is what he throws you onto before pouncing.

His loony ass literally jumps out of his clothes like a cartoon character, all while you’re cutely splayed out on the covers wearing some garish lingerie of his choice. The sex makes it worth it though, and by the time you wake up you’re covered in new scratches and bruises thanks to him.

Billy Loomis

Of course this greasy boy takes part in the holiday, it’s a one way ticket to getting laid after all.

He pulls out all the stops, slicks his hair back and wears a nice outfit, brings you a generously large teddy bear that has a hard time fitting in your locker, and of course he doesn’t forget the chocolates.

If you don’t really like the showy stuff then don’t worry, he wrote you a creepy lovely poem for the occasion. He makes a bunch of horror movie references in it, and asks you to be his final girl/boy/enby at the end of it.

He lays it on thick with the romance today, wants you to feel nice and loved before he tries to break your bed frame again.

If you have the time after school, he’ll invite you out on a double date with Stu. He pays for the meal and all that, and is notably less irritable than usual.

Pray that one of your parents is on vacation right now, because if he doesn’t at least get a quickie before the day is out he’s gonna be a horn dog for the rest of the week and you are not going into the school bathroom again.

Stu Macher

He makes a whole show of acting shy around you, batting his eyes and giggling like a maniac every time you look his way.

When he finally works up the courage to ask you out he does it as annoyingly as possible, hands behind his back while he sways side to side… “Will you be my Valentine?” He asks as he flutters his blonde lashes, extending one of those holographic puppy cards to you alongside a handful of your favorite candy. You’d be a fool to say no.

He jumps for joy and glomps you, but he’s so lanky that he can barely topple Sidney over.

Most of the fun happens after school, he wants to do just about everything with you and snag a bunch of couple’s discounts wherever he can.

You end the day with a double date, you and Stu go with Billy and Sidney to a nice restaurant after a day of running around a boardwalk and going on all the rides.

He’s not as desperate for sex as Billy is, but if you happen to drag him away or ask to spend the night he’ll be grinning like an idiot whilst giving the rest of the group a big thumbs up.

Bo Sinclair

He is oblivious to the day’s arrival, since in the years before he met you it was all but remembered.

He wakes up next to you and he is happy. He kisses you while you sleep, chuckling at the way you stir before getting out of bed and into his work clothes. He marks off a day on his calendar and… What does that tiny text say..?

Suddenly he’s hopping in his truck and going out of town in the early hours of the morning, scouring the nearby shops for something nice.

He comes back home as though nothing happened, but he does happen to hide the gifts in his closet.

When he sees you next he acts oblivious, like he doesn’t know what day it is (even though he didn’t this morning). He toys with you even if you got him a gift, apologizing for not remembering and promising to do better next time until bam! At 8pm he pops open a glass of champagne and asks if you really fell for it.

He brings back some real expensive sweets, flowers, and some undergarments he’d like to see you in, typical Bo always thinking of himself in some way.

He’d love to see you in it tonight, and he plans to sweet talk you if you’re still mad at him for playing dumb earlier.

Vincent Sinclair

I think out of everyone he’d be the most grandiose gifter. He is quite talented in the arts department, and he probably makes you so many little gifts already that he’d feel the need to really make you something swell.

Inspiration strikes when he sees you playing around with the little statues he made you, and so he gets to work on his most important project yet… A dollhouse.

Making wax sculptures out of humans is no easy task, but making a miniature recreation of a house, furniture, and people isn’t either.

It just appears in your room out of the blue, all of the furniture neatly organized and little figures of you alongside any friends you may have had scattered across the mansion doing various tasks. Him and his brothers are there too, with Lester washing his hands in the sink, Vincent himself in the basement toiling away, and Bo sitting on his La-Z-Boy reading the papers.

You wait patiently for him to finish his work in the basement before you overwhelm him with your affection, the sturdy wax of his mask melting more and more with each kiss.

He doesn’t feel like he deserves anything in return, but he might just cry if you try and make anything out of wax for him.

Lester Sinclair

He hears about it on the radio while he’s driving his truck, scouring the road for any fresh meat.

The disc jockey smoothly announces the day’s date and informs listeners that the station will be playing love songs the entire day, imploring the audience to send their requests in.

He thinks about what he ought to do for you. Bo would surely scold him for going out of town unannounced and using his money for frivolities like chocolates and teddy bears, so he decides he should hand-make something for you.

With some difficulty, he manages to fashion a heart shaped backpack out of animal skin for you. Vincent had to lend a hand for a lot of the measuring process and zipper installation, but it was pretty obvious who gathered all the… Ingredients.

Really, all he wants is some recognition and affection. He’s not often recognized for his talents as the youngest brother, and a valentine who gives him the praise he deserves is all he could really ask for.

[superconductivebean]

#989: Hogwarts Inquires - 116

Did you know? - 17

Hugely inspired by @the-magiarcheologist's Forbidden Forest post.

A long while ago, around the end of October last year, I made a post about San Bakar's tower and a hamlet of Pitt-upon-Ford. There I did a little mention of a peculiar detail of the hamlet's graveyard; I get it, it's likely a Dark Souls reference, but these symbols from the two stones:

are found all throughout the Highlands but especially in the north and specifically, the one that looks like a crescent moon.

Just soaring down from the tower to a long-abandoned bricked castle?* estate? where you'd typically unlock yet another whisper of ancient magic and soak its power, you'd stumble upon another moon:

From there, the path will take you across the red brick bridge and to the Forbidden Forest, quiet at all hours:

The right path leads to a similarly empty remnants of a chapel? or a house? ready to part with its wall:

Smudges at what's left of its corners can be lichen and I think it is.

Taking the left path will introduce you to this cosy little place:

Whoever dwelt on this plot of land wanted the place to feel like home; the pool of ancient-but-not-so-ancient whispers had congregated at the starter castle for a reason, I reckon. Anyway.

Winding paths could take you to poacher camps, troll dens, wicked peapol picking on a mountain troll, spider clusters. I haven't time to explore the Forest much to the south but I did walk across the moon:

It is just forward going south, past underneath the bridge:

*At the last second glance on the-magiarcheologist's post did I realise although it looks crescent-shaped, the picture is distorted and hard to read when shown in full; like a Rorschach test. Is it really the moon? is it a drawing made after the mooncalves' dance? what does it signify? And if it may be assumed to be a replica of a mooncalves' dance, where does it lead to? Has the brick house person gone mad trying to solve this mystery, left the marks for is to follow?

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

Out of the woods

Paring: Witch!Nat x fem!Reader

Summary: After getting lost in the woods because of prank for your friends you meet a rather strange but very seductive woman

Warnings: smut, slight dom/sub Dom!Nat, Sub!Reader, dub con, implied drugging, kinda dark Nat, magic, slight bondage, marking, non consensual body modification (magical mark), pet names (bunny/ baby), degradation kink, praise kink, legal age gap

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional!

AN: I’m back yall and I didn’t prove read

Masterlist

“Guys! This really isn’t fun anymore!” I screamed as I walked through the darkening woods. I knew that going camping in the middle of the woods wasn’t a good idea but somehow my friends managed to convince me to join then. And now? Now I was walking alone from the twilight woods because my friend decided to leave me alone, here, in the woods. They must’ve thought it was a very funny joke but now that the light got less and less just like the temperature I was starting to feel a bit anxious. My sense of navigation was never my strongest trade and now I got to feel it like biting into a sour apple. My phone wasn’t helping either. Not only was my battery slowly dying but I didn’t get a signal either in the middle of the woods. The sun was going down leaving me seemingly alone with the moon and stars my friends so where to be seen.

Was I really about to sleep out in the open, somewhere in the middle of the woods? It seemed like it. I wrapped my arms around my body, hugging myself. My feet started to hurt and I just didn’t want to keep going. It felt like I was just getting more and more lost. Until I saw light through the woods. Like a fire from a camp or was it a cabin I couldn’t tell from afar. I was decided on whether to go looking for help or not I decided that it was worth a try. The closer I got the clearer the the cabin in front of me. It looked like something straight out of one of grimes fairytales. The dark wood of the cabin was overgrown with ivy and other wild plants I couldn’t quite place. In front of the cabin was an old broken wooden fence failing its job to protect the garden of medicinal herbs.

My heart was beating out of my chest, that’s how nervous I was. Who would open the door for me? A killer? A social outcasts? A witch? I opened the garden gate with a loud squeak from the garden gate, I should just turn around but I felt this unexplainable force pulling me towards the front of the cabin. Like a moth attracted by light which was sealing its sure death. Before my hand could even touch the rough wood of the door the door opened revealing a red headed woman. Her green eyes gazing at me like a predator facing it’s prey “Are you lost in the woods pretty girl?” She asked in a calm but teasing voice. It seemed like someone had stolen my voice as I didn’t know what to say facing this gorgeous woman I could only nod.

“A shy one” she smirked as she grabbed my arm pulling me inside the mysterious woman’s cabin “But you don’t have to, I’m going to take good care of a pretty girl like you” I swallowed hard as the woman gave me a devilish smile pulling me towards her couch by my arm “Can I ask for your name” I asked carefully as she pushed me onto the couch “I’m Natasha what’s your name pretty girl” “Y/N… uhm… my name it’s Y/N” she laughed as left the room going into what I guessed was her kitchen “You are a cute one, Y/N” she calls back as I could hear her doing something in her kitchen. She soon came back with two cups of tea in hands

“What brings a pretty girl like you to my door step?” She questioned as she gave my a cup of tea smiling like the devil herself “I was camping in the woods and I got lost and it got dark” She leaned back into her vintage armchair watching my with an observing gaze “then I saw your cabin” her lips curled into an evil smirk “I just couldn’t resit, and to be honest I’m glad I came here” something was off I should run, that was what my mind screamed at me. But my heart told me my place was right here, with Natasha.

Her smirk was all telling, she had something planned for me, something big “I’m more than happy that you found me” She watched me carefully as I took a sip from the hot liquid from the mug in my hands. The tea was tasting a bit off, I guessed it was made from herbs but it tasted way too sweet. I just couldn’t quite place the taste but it was way too delicious “What kind of tea is this, it’s very delicious” Natasha bit her lower lip as her eyes darken “It’s a special tea natural to the local area” She places a hand onto my knee making my breath hitch “some people even say that it has magical powers but who actually believes in magic” she laughed at me as I kept sipping from the the mysterious hot liquid. Suddenly I was starting to feel more and more hot as my cheeks started to redden and my clothes felt unnaturally tight against my body. Natasha seemed to have noticed my condition as her hand travelled up my towards my thigh “Are you feeling a bit icky pretty girl” My breath hitched as I heard her teasing voice “I- uhm- I-“ I stuttered not feeling like I could use my proper words “Aw, poor baby, to needy to use big words” she grabbed the mug from my hands putting it on the coffee table “I will help you bunny” As she finished the sentence she manhandled me lay flat out on the couch her sitting on my lap as she pushed my shoulders hard against the soft cushions “Do you want me pretty girl?” She asked her lips curled into a devilish smirk “Yes” it came out in a breath making her kiss me forcefully. Her kiss was fast, rough, and messy you could say more teeth than anything else. I tried to touch her with my hands but she would only push them away.

I tried to fight for some kind of dominance as our tongues collided dancing a messy dance but there was just no chance for me to win against the older woman. I was helpless under her. She finally pulled away letting my fill my lungs with sweet sweet oxygen again as I desperately breathed. Slowly I open my eyes again only to find Natashas eyes glowing green, it seemed like someone had put a spell on them. What was really in that tea, I asked myself. Natasha noticed my reaction to het unusual eye color and leaned down to whisper in my ear “I’m a witch baby”

At first I didn’t believe her but as soon as her green energy turned into fine ropes keeping my body still I started to realize “Please don’t hurt me” I started to beg I was terrified of her next move “I’ll be your good girl” She could only laugh as she she removed my clothes with the snap of her fingers “You don’t need that anymore” she started to circle me like a carnivore it’s prey “It will only hurt a bit at first, and well every time you disobey me”

I just wanted to protest but her magic ropes found it’s way into my mouth gagging me to prevent me form talking back to the witch. All Natasha could hear were muffeld cry and whines as she placed her hands onto my lower stomach making me try to move them away but failing miserably “Stop moving slut or it will hurt more” she pressed harder down before she started to mumble words in a foreign language. The pain was unimaginable I screamed out, only to be muffled by the ropes, I tried desperately to move away but the pain was too much making my cheeks stained with hot tears. She soon moved her hands away only leaving a small burning feeling behind.

“You did great bunny, so great.” She praised making me whimper. The ropes disappeared into thin air making me able to move again. I looked down at myself and noticed some that looked like an tattoo. Fine lines forming shapes and right under my bellybutton was a delicate heart. I gave Natasha a shocked expression running my hands over the mark “It means you are mine now” she deadpanned like it

like it was obvious but I only looked at her confused “It means that I can control you now, your fertility, your feeling of pain, your orgasms they are all mine now” I was shocked my whole face was purely terrified but Natasha didn’t care picking me up like I was her toy before throwing me onto her bed getting on top of me.

The shock soon turned into pure pleasure as Natashas experienced hands massaged my breast kissing up and down my neck and collarbone bite down when she felt like it. I let out moan after which sounded like a beautiful melody in the witches ear. She moved down more and more kissing the middle of the mark making me almost scream in pleasure “That’s right! Scream for me!” She grinned at before diving between my legs kissing my clit “Fuck bunny, you taste even better than I thought” she kept on circling my clit with her tongue.

I turned under her touch, she wasn’t my first but certainly my best “Nat- Natty more” She put on an expression of fake pity “This little cunt is so fucking needy and desperate”. She carefully bit in my clit making me release a strangled moan. She kept on giving me bold licks as her long fingers pumped in and out of my tight hole “Fuck you are so tight bunny” Her fingers brought me closer and closer to the edge as my breathing got more and more uneven “I’m… I’m close… can I- I cum?” I moaned out “Go on cum for me” With her words my back arched off my bed as I threw my back head moaning the witches name like a prayer “That was really good” My breathing got a bit calmer as Natasha fucked me through my high.

“Oh baby we are far from finished”

:)