#dark forest profile

[residences-of-the-darkforest]

Dark Forest Residences: Aphidsong & Charhoot [PART 1]

Aphidsong

TW: Abusive relationship, implied homophobia

Aliases / Nicknames: several unspecified insults (by Charhoot)

Gender: she-cat

Sexuality: omnisexual

Family: Misha (mother), unnamed biological father, Dogleaf (adoptive father), Larchtail (brother), Sunheart, Poppybird (half-sisters), Stoatbug (half-brother), Creeklight (mate, formerly)

Other Relations: Blossompool (mentor), Tansypaw (apprentice), Charhoot (best friend + pretend mate)

Clan: WindClan (formerly), ThunderClan (formerly), none

Rank: rogue (previously WindClan warrior, previously ThunderClan warrior)

Characteristics: easily excitable, people(cat)-pleaser, hyper, adventurous (all pre-injury), prone to nightmares, struggles to find joy in life, increasing rage (all post-injury)

Murder Motive: wanting her nightmares to end, wanting the cats that made her life hell to suffer

Number of Victims: 42 (in life)

Number of Murders: 26 (in life)

Murder Method: suffocating, attacking/slitting throat, poisoning herbs

Known Victims: Creeklight, Sloehoney, Shrewstar, unnamed ThunderClan cats

Victim Profile: her former mate/the cat who tried to kill her, the medicine cat of ThunderClan, the leader of ThunderClan, random ThunderClan cats

Cause of Death: poisoned

Cautionary Tale: ??

Story: 

Aphidsong's first memory was walking into the WindClan camp with her mother, just barely fitting beneath her belly where she hid alongside her brother.

Though it was hazy, she remembered the fear that mixed with awe when she looked around at all the cats, more than she even thought existed in the world, all staring at her and her family.

The fact that the first hints of the cruel, prejudicial life of the Clans can be caught in those earliest moments could be considered upsetting, to say the least, but Aphid, only two moons old then, had failed to notice the unsure and downright hostile glances some cats sent her, and her little ears couldn't pick up the arguments made to send the little family out for the crime of not having warrior blood. Or perhaps her brain had not understood the gravity of what they were saying and simply chose for her to forget.

By the time she was old enough to see the glances or hear the comments and know what they mean, most of her Clanmates had already stopped long ago, and now treated her, her brother, and her mother with as much respect as they would any blood-born Clanmate. The others consisted mainly of the elders who were stuck in their ways, and though they frustrated her greatly, she knew not to take them seriously.

It didn't hurt that a warrior, Dogleaf, caught feelings for Misha shortly after she joined the Clan and became the adoptive father of Aphid--now Aphidkit and Larch--now Larchkit.

Her kithood, apprenticeship, and early warriorhood were filled with little triumphs, shared laughter, and a spark of curiosity for every new thing she came across. It was the happiest time of her life. She later came to realize that much of that joy came from ignorance.

The first sign--or at least, the first sign that she noticed--appeared through her best friend, Charhoot. They had been close for moons and Aphidsong knew her friend to be nonchalant and easy-going, so when he became visibly stressed, she became concerned.

He confessed that he had been getting more and more pressure from his family to find a mate, and that it was getting to the point where he couldn't have a single conversation with any of them without them bringing it up, whether they were trying to convince him in earnest or were looking to tease him for his lack of a pretty she-cat by his side.

Aphidsong had joked that of course he has a pretty she-cat by his side, she's right here! It was only meant to be a joke, of course, she felt no romantic feelings for Charhoot, who was more of a brother than anything else. Meanwhile, he too felt no romantic feelings for her, nor any she-cat--which was the problem.

That was all it was at first, a joke. They had both laughed then before talking more and then moving on. But as time passed, the pressure from Charhoot's family grew, until he couldn't go a single second without the thought of it causing him immense stress.

Aphidsong and Charhoot had talked seriously then. They both vehemently agreed that neither liked the other in that way, but decided that for the sake of getting the pressure off of Charhoot's back, they would become 'mates.'

They wouldn't really be mates, it would simply be a fake relationship so that Charhoot didn't have to hear more comments about how time was running out. They didn't pretend to be more lovey and continued to act the same way around each other as they always had, justifying that they could act however they wanted, no one could prove that they weren't mates. Though when some cats said how they "always knew" or how Charhoot and Aphidsong were "meant for each other," both friends wanted to barf. It was even harder not to laugh.

Things were okay for a while. Then Charhoot's parents decided that their son finding a good mate wasn't enough--they wanted grandkits.

No, no. Stars, no.

Neither Aphidsong nor Charhoot were even going to consider that, and both had to only look at each other to see the same "that's disgusting, we're not doing that" look reflected in the other's eyes.

Worse yet, Charhoot's parents talked to Aphidsong's, and now the pressure was coming from both sides. The friends told their families that they weren't ready for that, but it became apparent that they couldn't keep that excuse forever. The more time that passed, the more insistent their families would be, and what would they tell them then? That they can't have kits because they have been lying to them for moons and had never actually been mates? The fallout of that conversation was not one they were willing to witness.

In attempts to avoid the topic entirely, Aphidsong and Charhoot took any reason they could get to stay out of the camp. When they weren't on patrol, either together or separately, they were 'spending quality time together.' To their families, that meant...well, they didn't care to know what they thought it meant, but for them it meant that they could hang out together as best friends without any 'aw, what good mates' remarks or judgements of how the Clan should be expecting kittens soon--gross. They could just be friends and hang out.

One day, Charhoot had left the camp before Aphidsong, who had been assigned den-repair duty. When she had finally been able to leave, hoping to catch up with him after catching a young grouse, she followed his scent trial to WindClan's far border.

There, she found him meeting with another tom with a perfectly circular nick in his ear.

He was flustered and embarrassed to be caught, while she was embarrassed to intrude. At first, Charhoot began to quickly say how they were just talking and Charhoot wanted to be polite, but then as his breathing slowed and he had a chance to think for a moment who he was justifying himself to, he dropped the lies quickly and told her the truth.

Charhoot had met the tom while on a solo-patrol when the tom spotted him from atop the barn that was his home and called out. Charhoot had never seen a cat on top of the barn before, so his curiosity was instantly piqued.

Charhoot admitted that he kept meeting with the barn cat--Mustache, and that he had caught feelings quickly.

Aphidsong had no qualms against her friend meeting with a cat from outside the Clan, whether or not it was for romantic purposes. She was only thrilled to see him so happy and in love. She offered to be his alibi, saying that she and him could leave the camp together and return together, and he and Mustache could meet up in the time between.

With more time to herself to hunt and patrol, it wasn't too long before Aphidsong was also meeting with a tom on the border. Creeklight was as funny as he was kind, Aphidsong's first impression of him being when he tumbled into the stream that separated their Clans after leaping into the air to catch a blackbird. She had been unable to resist laughter, and instead of becoming angry or ashamed, he just laughed with her until both had trouble breathing.

Now that both friends had a love outside of the Clans and both knew of the other's love, doubts began to crawl in, concerns that they expressed to each other.

If they hated living in their Clan so much that they avoided camp every day, should they just leave? They still loved their families dearly, and had other good friends that would make it tough to part. At the same time, they hadn't been as happy in recent moons as they have been after meeting with their respective mates. Their true mates. Maybe they should embrace that happiness, that freedom.

After thinking on it long and hard, Charhoot was the first to go, leaving for the barn after Aphidsong encouraged him to take the leap. Though they no longer lived in the same Clan, the friends kept in touch. Charhoot showed Aphidsong around the farm, and she would come to visit as frequently as possible.

Without her friend in the Clan with her, Aphidsong felt her connection to WindClan was growing weaker and weaker, while her bond with Creeklight was increasing.

Finally, inspired by Charhoot and how much happier he seemed to be with his love and away from the pressures of his parents, she decided that she, too, could take the leap.

It went downhill from there.

The ThunderClan cats protested greatly against letting her in. Being a Clan-swapper was bad enough, the fact that she wasn't Clanborn only made it worse.

Aphidsong was surprised. She had thought her heritage was long passed her. She served her Clan all her life. The only reason she was leaving it was to be with someone that she loved.

Shrewstar, ThunderClan's leader, was as hostile as his most vocal warriors, and made sure to let Aphidsong know, publicly, that the only reason he was allowing her to stay was for Creeklight's sake.

Aphidsong wondered if Creeklight would have been met with the same level of opposition had he been the one to join her. Somehow, she knew the answer was no.

It was worth it, though. She could freely be with Creeklight, able to patrol with him and share tongues and sleep in the same nest without having to sneak around or worry about getting caught.

It was harder to see Charhoot then, due to now having WindClan between them, but the friends still worked to see each other. Charhoot knew of the situation--Aphidsong had told him before she left, and together they came up with a plan to follow the stream just past the ThunderClan and WindClan borders whenever they wanted to hang out.

That was easier said than done. Between being a new addition to the Clan and not having the full trust of her Clanmates to be alone while on patrol and the longer trek for both cats, the opportunity to meet up was fewer and fewer.

One day, the meeting was witnessed by Hazelfox, Creeklight's sister who never shied from letting her distaste of his relationship known. She had confronted Aphidsong when she had returned to ThunderClan, and brought her right before Shrewstar and the rest of the Clan, despite Aphidsong's pleads for silence.

Aphidsong had tried to say that she was only meeting with her friend, but because of the lie she and Charhoot had created, cats were quick to accuse her of infidelity. It didn't make sense for Aphidsong to move farther away from Charhoot in order to meet up with him, but no reasoning Aphidsong could come up with would change their minds.

Life in ThunderClan became harder for Aphidsong after that. The few friendships she was able to form had evaporated within seconds now that everyone believed her to be a cheater, and those that already disliked her joining the Clan became outright venomous. She couldn't so much as walk across the camp without having several pairs of eyes staring daggers at her.

Now, she was a former loner, Clan-swapper, and a cheater who probably manipulated poor Creeklight, who all of sudden is not a traitor but instead a poor tom who was blinded by love.

Creeklight was a whole other issue, as he didn't believe Aphidsong, either.

Aphidsong had tried desperately to tell him the truth, to get him to believe her, but she couldn't tell him why she and Charhoot are only friends now after being 'mates' for moons, she couldn't tell him that it was all a lie because even if word didn't spread to her and Charhoot's families, she didn't want to out Charhoot to a cat he hardly knew. It hurt worse than shattered bones to see Creeklight so devastated, and living with ThunderClan would be incredibly hard, but she would rather have cats think poorly of her than think poorly of Charhoot.

Creeklight didn't break up with her, as Aphidsong had expected, albeit with a heavy heart, but he wanted her to prove her loyalty to him.

She had pointed out that she left her Clan and family to be with him, but he was insistent, claiming that he could never be sure if she truly loved him or truly loved Charhoot, not without having his kits. If they became a family, it would solidify their relationship, as well as Aphidsong's place in the Clan.

Aphidsong had told him before that she wasn't sure if she would ever have kits, a fact she reminded him of. Perhaps, one day, she would, but today was not anywhere near that day.

When she refused, he acted pitiful and sad, claiming that her refusal was proof, that if she loved him she would do it, that they were going to have kits one day, so why not now?

The pushier he was, the angrier Aphidsong became. She would be damned if she was going to put herself through two moons of pregnancy, six moons of sitting around in the nursery, and to top it off, a lifetime of motherhood--something she wasn't even sure if she wanted at all yet--just to appease him. Not to mention how painful the labor itself would be!

He became angry too, until the argument became a shouting match and Aphidsong decided that if he couldn't trust her without her mutilating her body for him, than they should just break up.

Terrified at that and enraged all at once, Creeklight shoved at Aphidsong without thinking. She stumbled back, nearly losing her footing on a ravine's edge. He blinked at her, shocked, but instead of helping her right herself, he pushed at her again and sent her tumbling down onto the rocks below.

Aphidsong couldn't remember much after that second shove, but she didn't black out. There was pain, she knew that, hot fire scorched across her face. She felt a wetness pooling around her body, and half the world was darker than usual.

She would later learn that she was in a state of shock after a patrol had found her and lifted her out. Apparently Creeklight was remorseful and told the Clan what had happened when he got back. Or, well, he told them that she 'fell'.

Again, no one believed her. She hissed at Creeklight, demanding he stay away. She tried to tell the medicine cat who bandaged her face, tried to tell Shrewstar, heck, she tried to tell anyone who was within earshot to hear her.

They thought she was either misremembering things after her head trauma, had simply been confused, or that she was downright making things up.

Creeklight, meanwhile, went unpunished. He was nothing but a hardworking, noble warrior with a heart of gold, still able to love and bring supplies to the she-cat that cheated on him and accused him of harming her.

It would be a lie to say that Aphidsong didn't doubt herself. Was she remembering wrong? What if Creeklight really had been trying to help her?

No.

If it had happened once, maybe there would be a chance she was wrong, but he did it twice. He had pushed her, and he did it deliberately, and now he was the hero who ran to the camp for help, a loving mate for always checking on her, and she was the heartless fox for snapping at him to leave every time he came near her.

She didn't care if he regretted it, as he had tried to tell her when no one else was around to hear. The fact of the matter was that he did it, and he did it because she dared refuse to have his kits.

She missed Charhoot.

She wanted to see him again, to go back to the days when everything was fine, when everything was happy. But she was confined to the medicine den for the next who-knew how long. She didn't know how badly she was injured, there were no puddles in the camp to see her reflection. She only knew that bandages covered much of her face, and that she couldn't see out of her one eye anymore.

Even if she could leave, Aphidsong wasn't sure if she had the energy to. Sorrow weighed heavily on her chest, pulling her into a pit of deep depression that she saw no light in. If she wasn't sleeping, either dreaming of the blissful days of younger-year or having nightmares of her life now, she was staring blankly at the wall.

Sometimes, something would set her off. The sound of a rock smacking onto the ground as kits played pebble-toss, the wind picking up as it had then, or even nothing at all. It all gave her intense, uncontrollable anxiety so deep it shook her bones.

Though not unsympathetic to these episodes, Sloehoney, the medicine cat, never gave her anything more than poppy seeds. He told her that he would consider something more if her episodes persisted longer than a moon, but she had overheard him talking to Shrewstar just outside of the den, claiming that WindClan warriors were fragile, and loners even more so, and that he was sure her apparent symptoms felt real to her, but she was probably just being dramatic. Shrewstar didn't argue, instead he agreed and suggested that Aphidsong was only making things seem worse than it was to get out of work. After all, she had been in the medicine den for nearing four moons now.

Had it really been so long?

Aphidsong was shocked. The days had melted together, and her sleep schedule was off. Still, four entire moons? Those were moons she would never get back, a chunk of her life gone all because of Creeklight, and the bastard got off scot-free, able to experience every day like it was nothing, like just having to wake up wasn't the hardest thing in the world.

Then a miracle happened. He fell sick.

Aphidsong was wary at first, fur bristling as he was moved into the medicine den with her. She spent the next several days backed against the wall, as far from him as she was able to get. In those days, she watched as he grew weaker and weaker, staying awake for less time, forming less coherent sentences.

She saw as Sloehoney only had to nudge at his lips for Creeklight to open his mouth to swallow down the medicine he needed, not even opening his eyes anymore to see what was being fed to him.

Technically speaking, that was when an idea began to form, though at the time there was a disconnect between Aphidsong's mind and her body. No plan was formed that she was consciously aware of, no step-by-step strategy or devise scheme.

She slipped out of camp on her body's accord. Her mind was elsewhere, numb, unable to so much as take in the feel of the grass beneath her paws or the clear night sky above her. It had been forever since she had seen it.

When those berries were in her paws, when her eyes--eye was looking at it, that's when everything came rushing to her and Aphidsong jumped back with the same terror as if she had been pounced on by a fox.

Had she really been about to do it?

She looked around wildly, at the shadows around her, hearing the hoot of an owl in the distance. She shouldn't be out here, she shouldn't be doing...what was she about to do? She began to run back in the direction of the camp.

In her haste, Aphidsong slipped in mud, and landed with a thump and splash in a puddle.

Her bandages had been removed at this point, but this was the first time she was out of camp, and the first time she saw...

It was horrible.

Laying, bruised, partially caked in mud and drenched in water, she could only stare down at the face that she couldn't recognize. The scar was ugly, red, digging from her cheek to her ear, nearly splitting her face in two. The eye it covered was closed shut. Aphidsong wasn't sure if she could open it. She wasn't sure if she wanted to, or if she wanted to see...

Her good eye was wrong, too. It wasn't marked, wasn't even scratched, but it held a darkness beneath them, heavy bags that marked her face as clearly as the scar. Her ears drooped low, as did seemingly everything about her.

Who was this cat? This wasn't her. She was Aphidsong, happy, cheerful, energetic, and loud. This cat...this was a stranger. This wasn't the she-cat that had rolled down the hills with her brother. This wasn't the apprentice that got scolded for laughing too much during training. It wasn't the she-cat who could still smile and have fun, even when her family was pressuring her.

No, this cat was...

It couldn't be her...

It couldn't be her!

What had happened to her?!

What had that bastard done to her?!

With energy she hadn't felt in moons, Aphidsong stood and raced back to camp. This time, her mind was clear. Focused. She wasn't going to stop herself this time.

Any cat awake didn't notice her, because they were distracted by a Clanmate's active labor in the nursery. That also meant that Sloehoney was out of the den, and probably wouldn't be back for a while.

Aphidsong hadn't went back for the deathberries. She didn't need them. She stood over Creeklight, her shadow making him blink open his eyes. She only allowed him a moment to see her, to know who was there, before she held him down with her paws, suffocating him as she forced his muzzle into her fur.

His struggles were muffled and weakened by sickness. Before too long, Creeklight's movements stilled as he went limp. Aphidsong's heart pounded, the sound echoing through her ears. She got up and returned to her nest, pretending to fall asleep, staring at the opposite wall, eye wide at what she had just done.

She had just killed someone.

She was a murderer.

And yet...no guilt sunk in.

Aphidsong didn't regret what she did, nor did she take pleasure in it. Rage guided her paws, but so did the belief that if Creeklight was gone, the nightmares would stop. If he was dead, then she could go back to normal.

Things just weren't so easy.

Aphidsong sat for the vigil. She didn't do it for him, she just didn't want more cats on her back if she avoided it. She listened to the fond memories they shared, how Creeklight was such a good Clanmate and friend and how much everyone in ThunderClan would miss him. She wanted to scream at them all, remind them of what he had done to her, the agony he had put her through. She wanted to show them how horrible he truly was, but they didn't believe her then. None of them believed her. Why would that change now?

She wondered what would be said at her own vigil when the time came. Did any of these cats even know her? Did any of them even care to learn who she was? How many knew that her favourite prey was wagtail? Or that she hated leaf-bare but loved to catch snowflakes when they first began to fall?

Would they say anything nice about her? Or would they not say anything at all?

Four moons in the medicine den, and not one cat had stopped by to visit her, her attacker not included. Well, that wasn't true. Hazelfox stopped by to yell at her for 'spreading lies' about her brother.

Aphidsong wanted to leave. Needed to. Her parents and brother must hate her for abandoning them. Would they take her back if she begged? She decided that giving it a shot would be better than life here. If they turned her down, she could always go to the barn. She knew Charhoot wouldn't turn her away.

But Aphidsong couldn't leave just yet. She was out of the medicine den by this time, her face as healed as it could get. But all that time spent sitting or laying down had weakened her legs. She couldn't walk without stumbling. She had thought she would be fine, after all, she had managed to run in the forest before, but apparently her spiraling thoughts and high adrenaline had distracted her from the pain in her limbs.

She needed a little more time before she would be able to make the trek to WindClan's border, where all of this started. She should have never met Creeklight. She should have never left everything for him. She thought that she would have a fresh start, a new life. She hadn't thought that everything would be taken from her and nothing would be left. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Finally, when she was sure she could make it, she headed for Shrewstar's den. She wasn't going to leave without a word, not that these cats deserved her reasoning. But when she neared, she overheard him discussing the kits' apprenticeship.

He and Longhowl thought carefully about each young cat, carefully choosing which mentor would fit specific personalities and temperaments.

Then the conversation moved on to Tansykit, an abandoned loner found on the edge of the territory. They talked about how much trouble she would have keeping up with the warrior-blooded apprentices, how her adoptive mother tried to toughen her up, but Tansykit would complain that she was mean. They laughed about it, chuckling about loners and their soft hearts. Longhowl suggested someone tough for her, someone stern and strong and who would surely train the loner out of her.

Aphidsong's heart was racing. She had little time to move away so that it didn't look like she was eavesdropping when the conversation abruptly ended and Longhowl left the den. She didn't move in time, and he noticed her at the mouth of the den, questioning what she was doing.

Aphidsong told him that she had to speak with Shrewstar and slipped past him before she could say anything.

Now was her chance.

She would tell Shrewstar that she was going to leave, and then she would, and all of this, all of the bad memories and pain and the horrible thing she had to do would be behind her. She would return to WindClan and be with her family and friends and cats that loved her and she would visit Charhoot every day and she would laugh again and share food with other cats and she would sleep without being woken up by nightmares, and she would....she would....

Shrewstar asked her what she wanted.

She opened her mouth, tongue going dry.

Then, without really thinking, hardly knowing she was speaking, she told him that she wanted to mentor Tansykit.

He seemed unsure at first, but she told him that she wanted to make up for the moons she spent healing and unable to contribute, how as a former loner herself, she would know the best way to handle someone like Tansykit. She was insistent, near demanding, until Shrewstar gave in with a shrug and agreed.

Aphidsong left the den, wondering what the hell she had just done.

It was a choice made without real thought, and one that she would spend that night clawing at herself for.

But when it came time for Tansypaw's apprentice ceremony, seeing the glow in the young she-cat's eyes as well as the nervous flick of her tail, her regret loosened its grip and a wave of affection washed over her.

In the next several moons as she trained the apprentice and gotten to know her, that regret disappeared completely. The affection, meanwhile, strengthened tenfold.

Aphidsong loved Tansypaw. The little cat was so full of energy and a desire to learn, taking in the world around her with wide eyes, and a smile on her face even when she messed up. She reminded Aphidsong of herself at that age, though the two also had many differences. Tansypaw preferred hunting over fighting, her sense of humour differed from Aphidsong's, she struggled to sleep at night and was tough to wake at dawn, while Aphidsong was a deep-sleeper and an early riser.

Those things were so small and unimportant. Aphidsong didn't care if Tansypaw's favourite meal was mice feet. How could that matter to her when Tansypaw's giggly smile could light up a moonless night?

It was exactly what Aphidsong needed. She had spent so long being sad and alone and angry and numb. For the first time in what must have been forever, she felt like herself again.

Tansypaw would make jokes, and Aphidsong would laugh, before silently gasping and wondering how long it had been since the last time she had laughed like that.

There were sadder moments, too. Tansypaw knew of the things other cats would say about her, and when she struggled with something, she would blame herself for being so weak.

Aphidsong refused to allow her to think such things. When Tansypaw apologized for struggling, for not being able to keep up because she was stupid, Aphidsong would sit with her and hold her close. And when Tansypaw stopped rambling and took a breath, Aphidsong would assure her that she is smart and capable, and she just needs more time, and that was okay.

She would calmly ask Tansypaw what parts were confusing her, what tasks she was struggling with, and would listen to the apprentice until they could figure out together where the problem was. Sometimes it was something as simple as the way Aphidsong worded her directions.

At first, Tansypaw blamed herself for not understanding, thinking it should be so easy and she was an idiot for not getting it. After talking with Aphidsong, she became more and more comfortable with speaking up when she was having trouble. Every time, Aphidsong would listen to her patiently and explain things in a different way. Sometimes she would have to go further than that, using visuals to help explain.

Never once did she sigh or roll her eyes or show the slightest bit of annoyance. She knew that if she had left that day, Tansypaw's mentor wouldn't have been nearly as patient. The poor thing would be miserable.

Aphidsong couldn't keep her safe forever.

During a harsh leaf-bare, Aphidsong and the apprenticeless patrol she was with was caught in a sudden snowstorm. Though no cat had gotten frostbite, their condition was bad enough to keep them confined to camp for the next two days.

Tansypaw was given to another warrior to train while Aphidsong recovered. Aphidsong listed everything the temporary mentor, Billowpelt, needed to know, including the fact that Tansypaw greatly struggled with balance and that he should avoid any place covered in slippery ice. She suggested he stick to the mossy clearing, where the moss gave something Tansypaw could grip onto, and the overhead trees blocked out most of the snowfall.

Billowpelt hadn't listened.

That stupid, worthless tom! He had taken Tansypaw to the iciest part of the territory, explaining later that he had thought Aphidsong was going too soft on Tansypaw and that it was the best way for Tansypaw to learn how to balance without issue.

Instead, she had slipped, snapping her neck.

Aphidsong had been too shocked to say anything right away. But then came the vigil. When Billowpelt spoke, he didn't apologize for causing Tansypaw's death, for deliberately putting her safety in jeopardy. No, he put on a frown and stated that maybe it was for the better, that loners like Tansypaw couldn't make it in Clan life and it was better she died now, quickly, then suffer more in the future when she was unable to fight in battle or hunt in another leaf-bare.

He made it seem like it was all her fault, her own death, and not one cat--not even Tansypaw's adoptive parents or littermates--spoke against it.

Aphidsong couldn't take it. She lunged at Billowpelt, tackling him to the ground and clawing as she screamed. Screamed at him for not listening, screamed at him for blaming Tansypaw for dying when he should have protected her, screamed at him for calling Tansypaw a weak loner when it was comments like that that made Tansypaw doubt herself in the first place.

She was a good cat, a really good cat!

He clawed her back, and the two were caught in a whirlwind of tooth and claws until finally several cats got between them and pulled them apart.

Shrewstar snapped at Aphidsong, demanding how she dare disrupt a vigil in such an awful way. Didn't she care a cat was dead?

Aphidsong had glared at him, glared at all of them. She yelled how none of them truly cared, they were just pretending to. They looked at Tansypaw, a bright and curious young cat, and saw nothing but another mouth to feed, a waste of space, a cat that was useless because she wasn't born with warrior-blood. There was so much more to Tansypaw. Even when she was exhausted from a long training session, she never let Aphidsong leave without a smile on her mentor's face. Even when she was hurt and struggling, and even when her own littermates teased her, she would worry about them and how they were doing. She was the kindest, funniest, most amazing cat in all the Clans, but not one of her Clanmates other than Aphidsong even knew it because all anyone else could see was a weakling loner.

The Clan was cowed, ducking their heads as Aphidsong stopped to eye every single one of them. Then she spat, telling them that she hoped the frost kills them all, before leaving without another word.

She hated them, hated every single one.

She hated Creeklight for trying to manipulate her. She hated him for trying to murder her and scarring her for life, and she hated that he never confessed to the truth when everyone thought she was lying.

She hated the whole of ThunderClan for thinking she was lying about something so horrible. Not one cat--not one cat--believed her. No one in that Clan ever stood up for her. They all just left her to rot in the medicine den, going by their days as if she weren't completely breaking down.

The few friends she thought she had made when she first joined turned their backs on her without a second thought, without hearing her out.

She knew that Shrewstar hated her for being WindClan. For being a loner. Sloehoney, too. All that time with him and the two have never grown close. Sloehoney had always treated her like a burden to be delt with rather than a cat to help or friend to talk to.

It was all their fault that Aphidsong's old self is such a stranger to her. It was all their fault that Tansypaw was always so anxious she would screw up, because they judged her more than the others because she had loner-blood. It was all their fault that Tansypaw died.

Why did they deserve to live when Tansypaw was rotting beneath the ground, meal to the worms?

That's just it.

They didn't.

Plans began to form, the first of which were inefficient.

Aphidsong saw a warrior hunting on their own and attacked, but though she had managed to end the ThunderClanner's life, it had been a struggle that left her panting for breath. There was no way she could deal with all of the Clan like this.

She pulled the body into the stream so that her scent couldn't be traced. They would likely suspect her, but room for speculation gave her room to escape.

As she sat on the bank, her eyes drifted, stopping on two red berries shining in the starlight.

Poisoning the prey didn't work as she had hoped. No one grabbed the already-dead mice and birds, perhaps thinking that they were sick. Getting living animals to eat poison wasn't exactly a cake-walk either, and the one vole that was stupid enough to take the bait didn't survive the poison long enough to be hunted.

Aphidsong was growing increasingly frustrated. She was about to take her anger out on a tree trunk when movement caught her eye and she ducked, sheathing her claws.

It was Sloehoney, out and looking for....herbs.

It was perfect! Cats digested them, put them on open wounds, and because the victims would be cats already sick or injured, no one would notice something was wrong until it was too late!

As soon as Sloehoney was gone, Aphidsong got to work. She knew exactly which plants were herbs and which weren't, having spent four moons beside then.

She would take deathberries and squeeze their juice out and onto the plants, making sure they were nice and coated.

She wasn't sure how well the juice worked in respect to the rest of the berry, so she made sure to shake it up now and again. Some deadly nightshade here, some yew there, some holly berries sprinkled between.

After a while, she couldn't stand not being able to see them all suffer, so she crept toward the hollow slowly and carefully until finally she reached the cliff's edge and peered down below.

It was a delight to see how few cats were in camp. She guessed the rest were either all in the medicine den or beneath the ground. Though she was a fair distance away, she could see how exhausted Shrewstar was, worry for his Clanmates wearing him down, and she smiled at his misery.

She couldn't find Sloehoney. She wondered if all that handling the tainted herbs had killed him.

It was finally time to leave. She covered as many herbs as she could find one final time for good measure, before setting off across the border.

She stopped at the stream where she had dropped the body a moon earlier, where she had met Creeklight and made the worst decision of her life. Taking back that decision in one movement, she leapt over the stream and landed back on WindClan territory. She had slipped a little, her vision not being what it used to be, but it still felt as good as a clean landing on a thin precipice.

She considered going back home, but she knew it was too late for that. Maybe she would stay with Charhoot at the barn. Maybe she would explore and make up for the time she lost.

Before any of that, though, she had to eat.

Charhoot

TW: homophobia

Aliases / Nicknames: Hon, Hoots, Char, Love, Dear, Sweetie, several unspecified insults (by Aphidsong)

Gender: tom

Sexuality: homosexual

Family: unnamed biological mother, unnamed biological father, Sprigbirch (adoptive mother), Adderstripe (adoptive father), Mitecloud, Flecktooth (adoptive brothers), Mustache, Ferret (mates)

Other Relations: Billowweed (mentor), Marsh, Cone, Rubble, Max III, Boo, Marbles, Fliss, Toby, Rebel, Slink [Slinky Malinky], Shebee (flings/situationships), Aphidsong (best friend + pretend mate)

Clan: WindClan (formerly), none

Rank: barn cat (previously WindClan warrior, previously travelling loner)

Characteristics: somehow incredibly geeky and incredibly cool at the same time, loves sharp things, overconfident in his own abilities

Motive to Harm: N/A

Number of Victims: 0

Number of Murders: 0

Murder Method: N/A

Method of Harm: N/A

Known Victims: N/A

Victim Profile: N/A

Cause of Death: prolonged inversion (blood pooling in the brain)

Cautionary Tale: ??

Story:

He loved the family he was adopted by. Sprigbirch was loving and incredibly protective, and Adderstripe always gave them the best gifts whenever he returned from a patrol. Neither ever treated Charkit differently from their biological sons, who were two moons older than he was, and they never bothered Charkit for not being Clanborn.

While Charhoot wished to know who his biological parents were and their reasons for leaving him, it wasn't so important that it weighed on his mind as anything more than a mild interest. He was sure they did what they thought was best, either because he remembered how thin they had been when he last saw them, memories that replayed in his mind as fuzzy dreams, or because he wanted to believe in the best of them. It was easier that way.

Aphidkit was soon to become an apprentice by the time Charkit was old enough to explore the camp, and she took it upon herself to show the young one around, excitedly pointing out the different areas--best places to hide for hide-and-seek, the dens, and every detail both important and nonconsequential. She was so eager, she was more energetic than the younger kit.

The two formed a quick bond then, a relationship that would only grow and strengthen as time went on, until eventually that friendly relationship would need to become an outwardly-appearing courtship.

Charhoot thought he could ignore the comments at first, just brush his parents off. They bothered his brothers too, so the pressure was at least spread between them, but then Mitecloud and Flecktooth both found mates and Adderstripe's and Sprigbirch's attention narrowed right on him.

He wasn't sure if he could just tell them the truth--he didn't know of anyone in WindClan or any Clan that was like him. Every she-cat liked a tom, every tom liked a she-cat. If he told his family that he liked toms, how would they react?

He couldn't tell them directly. Instead, he tried to bring up same-sex relationships in a general sense to gauge their reactions, lying that he had seen two loners a while across the border that were cuddling like mates, though both were toms. Interesting, wasn't it? What did they think?

While neither Adderstripe nor Sprigbirch seemed outright disgusted by the idea, which was a relief, both made it clear that such a relationship is good for loners, but not Clan cats. Clan cats need to be sure that each generation would provide kits for the next, and that simply couldn't happen if two toms were mates or two she-cats were mates.

That was that, then. Charhoot couldn't tell them. He couldn't tell anyone, only Aphidsong, who already guessed it because she had caught him mooning over another tom at the gathering once when they were apprentices

Though Charhoot's 'relationship' with Aphidsong provided temporary shelter against the barrage of 'hurry ups' and 'find a pretty she-cat,' it couldn't protect Charhoot against the pain that was building inside.

Having a fake mate to get his parents off his back was one thing, but Charhoot wondered more and more if he would never get to live with a real mate who he actually romantically loved if he kept living in the Clans.

Perhaps that is why he was so intrigued when Mustache first called out to him, and why he kept going back more and more.

He was grateful to Aphidsong for covering for him. Stars, he was so grateful to her for everything.

Even when he told her that he was considering leaving the Clan to live with Mustache, she wasn't angry. She only smiled, always so cheerful, and encouraged him to take the leap. By this time, he knew that she had her own out-of-WindClan relationship, and gave her the same advice.

Leaving WindClan was the best decision Charhoot had ever made, but that didn't mean he wasn't scared out of his mind when he did it. He worried if he was making the wrong choice, wondered how hurt his parents and other friends were.

At the same time, the air felt so much less constricting. The world felt bigger, brighter, and Charhoot was eager to explore it. He looked around his new home with awe.

The more he was away, the more the guilt slowly evaporated. Charhoot found it easier to sleep, and that the cold ice in his chest was gone.

That bad feeling returned, however, when again and again Aphidsong failed to meet up with him. He began to worry for her safety, but when he had tried to visit, he was chased off by a patrol, who yelled at him to leave her alone, as she had a 'new mate now.'

He didn't hold it against her, he doubted she even knew anyone was chasing him off, and at least their words confirmed that she was alive and okay. Maybe she was just too busy now, having to show her new Clan she was trustworthy, moving in with her new mate.

Charhoot thought of it, and smiled for her. He loved her and hoped to see her again, but if they were both happy with their lives, then what was the rush?

Without her, and without his parents and other connections other than Mustache, Charhoot found less of a reason to stay. He loved Mustache and part of him wanted to remain mates and stay there in the barn with him, but the other part wanted to grab onto the wind and have it carry him all over the world. He had the freedom to explore places he never would have back in WindClan, the chance to meet new cats and see new things, and after debating it for several days, he decided he couldn't let that go.

He gave Mustache one final nuzzle good-bye, before setting off.

The world was bigger than he could have ever dreamed of, with so many sights and sounds and animals he had never seen before, not even in the Elders' stories.

Too, he met many cats on his exploration, including many toms. Some of them he only met with once or for a few days, others travelled with him for some time. Every single one of them held a special place in his heart, as they each gave him the life he used to think he could never have, even if only for a short time.

He felt the pull to explore for many moons. Then, after a while, he felt the pull to go back home.

He reunited with Mustache and met the new barn cat, Ferret, both of whom he would become mates with--again, for one of them.

He still thought of his parents, his brothers, and of course, of Aphidsong, all of whom he hoped to see again soon.

Additional Information: 

--LINK TO PART 2: CURRENTLY TBA

--BASES:

Charhoot's base is by @/Splasharooni here!

Aphidsong's base is by AlaskanCat on DeviantArt

--I know Charhoot's kind of ends suddenly, but it transitions cleanly with part 2's beginning!

--Aphidsong ate an animal that ate an herb that she poisoned, thus accidentally poisoned herself. I like the idea that she ate a shrew, as it's kinda funny/poetic (Shrewstar can go f himself though).

--Charhoot's circular ear-nick comes from the farmers, who use it as a way to tag their cats.

--Aphidsong's scars (other than the main one) come from her fight with Billowpelt and from when she attacked and killed the one random ThunderClan cat.

--Charhoot's parents don't think that same-sex relationships is wrong, but they are narrow minded and don't consider other possibilites like surrogacy, so they think that the only way they can have grandkits is if all their sons are in relationships with she-cats.

--Misha and Dogleaf had their own litter of kits sometime after Aphidsong left, and they are her half-siblings. She never knew they existed though because no one told her.

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Dark Forest Resident: Hollylion

Aliases / Nicknames: Bitch, Cheating Bitch, The Worst Mate Ever, Disloyal Foxheart, Heartbreaker, Dearheart, My love, Sweetie

Gender: female

Sexuality: heterosexual

Family: Goldsting (mother), Airnettle (father), Poolflake (aunt), Splinterwisp (uncle), Elderfleck (sister), Chasmmoon, Pricklestar (brothers), Torndrop, Boulderbloom, Sleekspike, Olivedapple, Mallowspots, Ratspeckle, Frigidshock, Stoneslash, Volcanonoise, Burdockpaw, Goosefluff, Ripplefrost, Cresspaw, Smokehare, Minnowspore (daughters), Shinefur, Echoheart, Scorchhaze, Pearpaw, Nettlefoot, Shatterram, Daffodilstripe, Nutpad, Fawnfleck, Fluffyheather, Birdfluff, Sootseeker, Flipjump, Jaypaw, Bluekit, Brightlily (sons), Laurelmurk, Archpatch, Summitdusk (granddaughters) Poolthrush, Shalequake (grandsons), Splashstar (grandmother) Jumpmask (grandfather), Pearfeather, Tabasco, Zelda, Chiquito, Alyconefleck (former mates)

Other Relations: unnamed mentor, Jaypaw, Boulderbloom (former apprentices)

Clan: Thunderclan

Rank: elder

Characteristics: cheats on mates, charismatic, connection to the Dark Forest

Number of Victims: 41

Number of Murders: 0

Method of Harm: cheating on mate, dragging her kits into her mess

Known Victims: Pearfeather, Tobasco, Fork, Zelda, Lazlo, Shadowkite Chiquito, Burrowfur, Lilacpatch, Burnetspot, Shinefur, Echoheart, Scorchhaze, Pearpaw, Nettlefoot, Shatterram, Daffodilstripe, Nutpad, Fawnfleck, Fluffyheather, Birdfluff, Sootseeker, Flipjump, Jaypaw, Bluekit, Brightlily, Torndrop, Boulderbloom, Sleekspike, Olivedapple, Mallowspots, Ratspeckle, Frigidshock, Stoneslash, Volcanonoise, Burdockpaw, Goosefluff, Ripplefrost, Cresspaw, Smokehare, Minnowspore

Victim Profile: mates, kits (indirectly)

Cause of Death: heart attack

Cautionary Tale: heartbreak has consequences

Story:

When she was a kit, she dreamed of having a loving mate. Pearfeather wasn’t that though. Always ‘too busy’ to spend time with her.

So who could blame her for seeking attention from others?

Tabasco was fun for a while.

When Pearfeather died, she turned to her new mate, Zelda, for a time, but he was so boring! Always so nervous around everyone.

So she may have messed around a bit.

And Zelda may have hated her by the end of their relationship, but it was fine, because she had a new mate!

But then Chiquito got mad because she had an affair, so she may have gotten a new mate, but then he died, so back to Zelda it was.

She ended up having a whopping 31 kits, and even loved some of them.

Sure Sootseeker murdered two of his siblings, but most of them turned out ok! So what was the big deal?

It wasn’t like a lifetime of breaking hearts could have consequences…

Additional Information:

--Submission by @ambitiousauthor

--Ambitious: "I have discovered the ‘have affair’ button on Lifegen"

--Her kits are listed as victims bc their mom constantly having blatant affairs really messed them up.

--For a split second I thought that this was extreme of StarClan to condemn her for this but then I remembered all of Squirrelflight's Hope.

[hisbodycorpse]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𓊫⠀ ⠀⠀ ¸ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ﹐

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ #⃝ ⁊🕯️ ⠀ ╱ ⠀ ∯∯

[tyudeongis]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀₊ 𓋫 . 🌱 ⍋

[bonefall]

Better Bones Profile: Houndleap

"The horrifying eldritch fallen angel likes ME best because I'm hot"

[ID: The Better Bones AU version of Houndleap from Warrior Cats. He is a black-and-white tom with ginger flecks in his black parts, and a fluffy white tail tuft. His ears are burned away, and he has orange, swirly keloid scars. He also has a heart-shaped paw pad.]

Here by popular request! Holy MOLY you all jumped on the offhanded manwhore comment lmao.

Houndleap's a great example of cats who are in the Dark Forest for breaking non-violent commandments. The only thing he's killing is the gene pool, with his 6 known mates and the 16 kittens between them all. No, he wasn't in love with them all either, he just liked to play the game.

He is as close to the ideal Clan cat as one can get, and he knows it, and flaunts it. Tri-colored with beautiful ginger flecks, he fell victim to a terrible moor fire and came out with severe burns. His surviving was already a great mark of strength, but then he became even luckier when his shiny scars raised, and slightly spread from the initial injury.

Clan cats didn't have a word for keloids, they only knew it was gorgeous. As if StarClan had given him a scar that dances and shimmers.

Houndleap "abused" this gift, seeing as many cats as possible and cheating on his 'official' mate back home. In the modern era, he might have just been a very popular Honor Sire, but this was before the Queen's Rights and the Aftergathering. He was eventually caught, and after his death, he was banished to the Dark Forest for violating the Law of Loyalty on more than 5 counts.

Yes. More than 5 counts. StarClan was able to see that he had even more than 5 halfclan mates (and they're not even counting the wife he cheated on) but only 5 got pregnant.

Alignment: Dark Forest, ex-WindClan

Time Period: Skyfall Era

Relations: Too fucking many

Houndleap's addition to the Dark Forest is Lover's Beck, a twisted, romantic version of a spot in the Gorge where he used to meet with his secret lovers. It's his worst memory because he planned poorly and two of them showed up at the same time and that's how he got caught.

More trivia below!

Canon said he's solid-colored and I said no. Pretty boy.

There are several minor features in his design that will be seen in modern family lines. I won't point them out but there's 3 total (so far.)

I decided to use him as an example of nearly ideal beauty standards in BB, since I famously overhauled them from canon. He is brightly colored with complicated patterns, slightly chunky, and has a HUGE scar on the face.

Personality is slut. He just wants to flirt, man. Theme song is Mambo #5 he's just like that.

He works with Tigerstar in OotS mostly because it's not like there's anything better to do. Plus some of the trainees are hot, "hellooooo Ratscar"

When Antpelt dies, Houndleap is one of the cats who needs the most convincing to come back into the alliance. It's one thing when it's funny haha Attack And Dethrone God or whatever, but PERMAdeath??

Thankfully, Hawkfrost is a fantastic diplomat.

Generally, Houndleap is motivated by whatever's fun. He was one of the first to fall in line under Ashfur and will do basically anything if he's bored.

"We're teaching people how to kill? sure lmao. Oh we're attacking the living? Ok cool. Guard the prisoners? Not like I had plans anyway. Anyway wanna get evil dinner later, handsome <3 ?"

Likes drama, tea, stories, games, anything that brings him a little excitement really.

He can usually be counted on to join whatever silly project the group's up to this time, like catching Shrewpaw's Pheasant.

I cannot stress enough how much of a normal Crummy Dude he is. He's just some standard jerkwad guy. The Dark Forest in Better Bones contains several people like him, who might be sleazeballs or jackasses, but we would generally agree don't deserve Hell.

When canon comes up with a Houndleap backstory, I'll consider what to do with it. But for now we only know that Hound came from WindClan, which I've included.

[know-it-all-freak]

Paul McGann's (perfect) profile, Part 2

[girl-hobbit]

🌿🍄My bedroom wall decor🕯️🍁🌿

[suskindkore]

Acid Witch (dump)

credit: suskind

En postant le set de bannières, je me suis dit qu’avant de continuer les nouveaux autant faire un dump de ce qui traîne sur mon pc (essentiellement des trucs pour mes anciens personnages). Plutôt que ça reste dans un dossier, pourquoi pas les partager ✨ Ce sera plus ou moins récent, mais si ça peut rendre service !

[marmotclaw]

Ashfur

Name meaning: Grey furred

Short furred blue spotted tabby tom (he/him) with dark blue eyes, he has short, thick fur and a torn ear

Cause of death: Killed by Hollyleaf

Cause of Spirit death: drowned

Family and Education

Mother: Brindleface

Father: Darkstripe

Brother: Tulipkit

Adopted Brother: Cloudtail

Sisters: Ferncloud, Moorkit

Mentor: Dustpelt

Apprentices: Birchfall, Lionblaze

Personality

INFP

Rebel Evil

Social

Platonic Love: Birchfall, Brindleface, Cloudtail, Ferncloud, Moorkit, Tulipkit

Romantic Love: Bristlefrost, Squirrelflight

Best Friend(s): Thornclaw

Friend(s): Bramblestar, Dustpelt, Hawkfrost

Mixed feelings: Berrynose

Enemies: Alderheart, Bristlefrost, Firestar, Greystripe, Hollyleaf, Jayflight, Lionblaze, Shadowsight, Sparkpelt, Spotfur, Squirrelflight, Stemleaf, Tigerstar

Favourite food: Pheasant

[thejaymo]

A Machine-Made Mirror | Weeknotes

The notion that the internet will become flooded with machine-generated sludge is something I’ve written about before. It’s always felt like a distant storm on the horizon. But nothing prepared me for how soon I’d see my own reflection in the sludgy waters of the machine web. A Machine-Made Mirror Until the other day I hadn't come across any obvious LLM written media. To have the first one I encounter BE ABOUT ME is surreal and weird.

[thewitchandtheassassin]

Life, Death, and the Space in Between Part Three (Agatha Harkness x Reader x Rio Vidal)

Summary: The Road is wild and wicked.

Words: 2277

Warnings: Arguments, talks of death, canon death, language?

A/N: Anything I have to fix, I'll go back and fix later. I am too in love with these characters. You're welcome.

-X-

Cradling the boy’s head in her lap, Agatha stared at Rio with watery eyes, a recreation of a moment long since passed. “Don’t. Don’t.”

Shrugging casually, your lover peered over the body of the dying Teen, watching thoughtfully as Jen began to attempt to heal him.

You weren’t entirely interested in watching a teenager drift from the mortal plane but something caught your eye and you inched closer, oblivious to Agatha’s noise of warning. One of the gifts you had procured when becoming the goddess of life was the ability to see lifelines. To examine and determine the strands of someone’s very essence. If they were meant to die, or beyond saving outside of celestial intervention, the strands would grow black and shrivel while a healthy lifeline was pure white and strong.

His was -

“What do you see?” Rio breathed, mouth close to your ear as you both stared at Teen.

Unlike Life, Death could not see a lifeline. She relied on Life for such things. She could see souls - spirits, essences; able to reach out and pluck them from their temporary vessels when their time had come. But she could only ever take what was hers to claim; what the cosmos were owed.

“His lifeline is broken.”

She inhaled sharply, gaze shooting up to your profile. “What do you mean?” she demanded.

Turning, you walked away from the group, using the dense forest to shade you from view. Taking a deep breath, you pressed the tips of your fingers together before stretching them apart. Where there should be a plain white cord, frail but solid as Jenn healed Teen, there was instead a cord that was black and blistered in the center. Stretching it further, you could see the beginning of his lifeline up until now.

Rio’s eyes were trained on the white cord. “What…”

“That boy died. Should be dead. That is something more than his heart stopping and then being revived. Otherwise it would’ve healed over. I don’t-” you cut yourself off, staring blankly at the lifeline. “This isn’t natural. Whatever that boy is, he’s-”

“An abomination,” Death’s raspy voice rang out and you glanced at the woman, unsurprised to see skull and bone staring back at you. She shook her head, the visage returning. “He goes against every order of nature. The fact he has escaped his reaping is a slight, and must be corrected.”

“Do you think Agatha knows?” you murmured, watching the coven shift his limp body to a more comfortable space, building a makeshift nest for him. “That there’s something wrong with him.”

“If she’s not certain, she has to suspect,” Rio replied, expression grave. “But she’s using him as a way to handle her grief. Replacing our son with this teenager who shouldn’t exist.”

Studying the white cord, your brows furrowed. Sparks of blue and red flared from it, more red towards the beginning before shifting into mostly blue sparks, something that was completely out of place and unexpected. “Do you see this?”

Reaching out, Rio’s fingers glided off the cord, completely devoid of emotion. “That fucking red witch. He is the reason the Road is real. The son of the Scarlet Witch and their weird reality bending bullshit powers. After the collapse of the Hex, I felt pulled there but I never found what I was searching for. It must’ve been his soul finding a home before I could find him.”

Letting the cord fizzle out in your hands, you pressed your forehead against Rio’s. Her cool breath fanned across your lips, dark eyes nearly black beneath the weight of knowledge and pain.

“I have to take him,” she whispered brokenly. “I have to take another child from her.”

“We should wait. See what becomes of this road.” Your lips brushed over hers, feather light and gentle.

There was sadness filling the space between you, of understanding what must be and what would happen after.

-X-

Sitting around a campfire discussing scars wasn’t exactly your idea of a fun evening but leaning against Rio’s side and watching the fire crackle softened your disdain. These witches weren’t terrible; in fact, you quite liked them all. Lilia was the epitome of a divination witch, her odd outbursts and strange mumblings charming. Alice, a protector who had her whole life ahead of her. Jen, searching for something stolen but making the best of it, even if she was scamming mortals. It would’ve been a shame for them to have died under Agatha’s magic, though you hated how powerless she still was.

Especially on such a dangerous road.

The moment Agatha settled somewhat close to you, all you wanted to do was drink in the warmth of being so close to her again. She told about a knitting needle scar, but you knew the truth. The scar along her elbow was from Nicholas. Or, rather, from the unfortunate pet your young son had managed to charm into coming home with him. That raccoon had taken one look at Agatha and screeched at the top of its lungs. His claws had nicked her elbow as he rushed away, but if she wanted to lie, who were you to judge?

“I have a scar,” Rio piped up, earning identical looks from you and Agatha. Your brow was furrowed, knowing you’d traced every inch of that body with fingers and tongue, but remembering no visible scars.

“No, you don’t,” she argued, and a wave of guilt passed through your bond.

Reaching out, you gripped Rio’s hand as she bowed her head. Her scar was internal. A never-closing wound that just never properly came back together because the thread had been hidden away from sight and nothing else could suture it closed. The kind that itched and burned for all eternity, constantly reminding her of the worst moments of her existence.

Slapping her thighs, Agatha escaped the conversation as soon as Rio finished speaking, skulking off into the forest to catch her breath. You were up and chasing after her seconds later, the green witch hot on your heels. Her back was to you, barely concealed sniffles audible in the silence of The Road.

“Agatha,” you whispered, her back easily meeting your front as you stopped behind her. Your arm encircled her waist, holding her close for the first time in centuries. It was like coming home all over again.

Rio settled in front of her, a cool hand on flushed skin. Her thumb trailed below Agatha’s eye, wiping away the fresh tear.

“That boy –”

Agatha’s face dipped close to Rio’s, breath fanning across it as she inched closer to her mouth. You could see the green witch’s mouth move, telling herself it wasn’t time, and you finished her heartbreaking confirmation.

“He’s not ours,” you whispered regretfully, feeling how Agatha tensed in your embrace.

The energy shift was subtle before Agatha yanked herself from your arms, putting substantial distance between you. She was hugging herself, as if trying to keep herself from crumbling into dust. Holding together the broken slivers of her heart.

“You don’t think I know that?” she hissed furiously, tears clinging to long lashes. “I know my little boy is long gone. Because you let him die.”

Stumbling back as if struck, you glared at Agatha with a fury you didn’t know you possessed. “I didn’t let him die! I kept him alive for years! While that sickness ravaged his body, I was the one pouring magic into Nicky to keep him breathing! You have no idea how many nights he almost left this world, but I broke every rule to sustain him longer. Don’t you dare say I let him die!”

A cool hand touched your shoulder, fingers digging deep into the flesh as Rio’s dark eyes bore into you but you could only see the gaping Agatha in that moment.

“How fucking dare you accuse me of not doing everything I could to keep Nicky here? You were not the only one who loved him. Who still loves him.” You stormed closer to the shivering witch, barely cognizant of the other witches and an unsteady Teen peering around the trees to watch the show.

“And yet he still died,” she spat bitterly, glancing down at your balled fist. “What? Did I strike a nerve? The all-powerful Life still bowing to Death?”

White magic flared around you, illuminating the otherwise darkened forest. There were noises of surprise at the sudden lightshow but you didn’t care.

“Fuck you, Agatha Harkness,” you hissed. “If it doesn’t fit your idea of how things should’ve gone, you refuse to see the truth. I have spent centuries excusing your behavior but all you will ever see is what you want. We’re the villains because you didn’t have the power to save him either!”

The sharp gasp beside you echoed through the pounding in your mind, clearing the red fog clouding your vision.

“You know, the Darkhold told me something about you,” Agatha said coldly, staring deep into your eyes. “You can visit the afterlife. That you can take people there too. Yet you never offered to let me see him again.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Bullshit! You can walk the line of life and death, and you could have told me. Could have… taken me to him,” she whispered, trembling with grief, thinking about having her little boy tucked into her arms once more.

Rio stepped closer, her hand sliding down to tangle your fingers together, both to soothe your fury and to stop it from becoming something darker. “That book lies, Agatha, and you know it. It shows you what you want to see. You want to see Nicky. So it gave you an answer in hopes of keeping you.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw blue flaring with twitching fingertips. You watched a familiar purple match the dancing blue across the tips of Agatha’s digits and your eyes widened fractionally.

“I cannot bring the living to the afterlife. Anyone who walks into that plane can never leave. It’s the way of the cosmos.” Your voice was tinged in desperation, begging the woman you loved to just… listen. “There’s a price all must pay who enter.”

There was a lull and for a moment, you hoped maybe she was seeing reason, before Agatha lunged at you. Her hand slammed into your chest, purple erupting around you and swallowing your vision. Purple and Agatha and furious, begging eyes.

All you could hear was Rio’s furious, panicked roar, “No!” ringing in your ears before there was…

Nothing.

Then you were falling.

And falling fast.

-X-

Being yanked from one dimension into another plane of existence was jarring. It didn’t happen often, unless you were in a different place than Rio and the universe called you home, but you imagined it was like being tossed headfirst into a blender that was on high.

As your back slammed into solid ground, you groaned low in your throat before slowly looking up at the sky. Or, what should’ve been the sky, except it was replaced with a beautiful, never-ending starlit void. There was no sun here, no moon, but you could see for miles and miles, never needing another light source.

“Oh no.”

Agatha’s limp form was a few feet away from you, but your spirit felt heavy. Neither of you were meant to be here and while you could pass somewhat freely without the imposing threat of danger, the same couldn’t be said for your witch.

“Agatha, get up,” you called out, carefully forcing yourself to an upright position. The astral body was similar but different from the mortal vessel you carried. Here, there was little imperfection, and you were simply the embodiment of Life. As meant to be.

However, Agatha’s had remained perfectly… Agatha.

It was like wading through waist high water to get to her. Hands pulsing white, you touched her shoulder and she jolted up with a gasp. You weren’t sure what such a journey had done to a mortal, but she seemed somewhat coherent – which you supposed was good.

“W-what? Where are we?” she demanded, peering around at the odd scenery of the afterlife as she stood.

“We have to go,” you replied sharply, glowing hand reaching out to grab her wrist but she jerked away, deftly dodging your grip.

“Is this the afterlife? Is he here?” She didn’t wait for your answer before cupping her hands to her mouth. “Nicky! Nicky! Are you here? It’s okay! It’s Mama!”

Waves of pain wracked through your spirit and you watched darkness creeping closer to the foreign entity.

No, no, no. It’s not her time. This isn’t…

Agatha continued screaming, her voice echoing throughout the plane until a long-missed voice called back from the distance, disbelief evident.

“Mama?”

Agatha bolted towards the voice and you watched tendrils of the afterlife chase after her, drawn to the soul still within her body.

Steeling yourself for what was to come; white light seeped from your fingers and filled the space around you, encouraging the darkness towards yourself instead. The sting was immediate and intense as darkness slipped into your body like blades, but you swallowed down the scream.

You promised to protect her.

And so you would.

-X-

Back on the Road, Rio cried out as a hand flew to her chest, the bond between you burning like a fire let loose to rage. Her long quiet heart thumped painfully, following the slowing beats of your own in perfect tandem. Her other hand was cupping your clammy cheek, wiping the sweat and tears falling down your cheeks.

“Oh, my love… what have you done?”

[residences-of-the-darkforest]

Dark Forest Resident: Berrypaw

Aliases / Nicknames: Brat, Bratpaw, Annoying Flea

Gender: tom

Sexuality: bisexual

Family: unnamed mother, unnamed father, five unnamed littermates

Other Relations: unnamed mentor

Clan: ThunderClan

Rank: apprentice

Characteristics: talks back, childish, shameless, bold

Motive to Harm: fun

Number of Victims: 1+

Number of Murders: 0

Murder Method: N/A

Method of Harm: disrespecting his leader, disrespecting StarClan

Known Victims: Specklestar, StarClan in general

Victim Profile: his leader, his ancestors

Cause of Death: crushed by fallen branch

Cautionary Tale: ??

Story:

He learned early on that the best way for cats to pay attention to him was to annoy them.

Play games? Only works if they have the time and until they're tired.

Flicking their ears or sticking out his tongue at them? They'll be so irritated that they'll stick around him.

He was born in a large litter of six healthy kits, and that was a lot of divided attention for his parents. Berrykit started acting out because of frustration at not being soothed or spoken to enough by his mother or father. The moment he did something bad, he was scolded, but all he could focus on was that his parents were paying attention to him.

Berrypaw focused on training and, not including the occasional prank or joke, was professional when he was alone or only with his mentor. But the moment there was a peer around or more than two other cats, he put on his smirk and began his prodding.

The bigger the crowd, the better. He loved being the centre of attention, it didn't matter if that attention was negative.

This all culminated in his final, big joke: saying "I don't" to the Clan leader instead of "I do" during his warrior ceremony.

Immediately he was met with anger and gasps. No one thought that it was funny, but that didn't matter. Berrypaw thought it was funny, and a big smile spread on his face as he looked up at his flustered and annoyed leader.

Specklestar pressed on, asking if Berrypaw knew what he was doing, asking if he was sure. As Berrypaw kept confirming, Specklestar's questions became more serious. She asked if Berrypaw knew he was disrespecting his leader and StarClan, then if Berrypaw was sure he wanted to continue with his attitude, reminding him that StarClan was watching.

Berrypaw put on an innocent face, saying that he knows he's not ready to finish training, so why is everyone putting up such a fuss? He's just being honest.

Eventually the meeting ended and Berrypaw was punished with cleaning out the elder's den and cleaning the dirtplace until after everyone else was asleep.

Then he curled up in his nest in the apprentice's den--unusually cold and quiet with all his littermates now sitting vigil.

He was about to drift into sleep when he heard creaking from above. Then the den roof collapsed.

Additional Information:

--His littermates were the first to hurry to the apprentice's den because they were already up.

--The branch would have fallen even if StarClan was not disrespected--they did not cause it to fall. But had Berrypaw not ruined his own ceremony, he wouldn't have been in the apprentice's den at that time, and would have survived.

--Base: F2u Apprentice Base by KouNavi48 on DeviantArt

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Dark Forest Residences: WolfStar, GoldfishFur, & HollowStar

WolfStar

Aliases / Nicknames: Cursed One, WolfFern, Champion 

Gender: demi-tom 

Sexuality: asexual, demiromantic 

Family: SerpentWing (mother), PuppyNut (father), Rainkit, Bristlekit, Mistlekit (kits), 400+ other family members, 60 who were alive at the same time as him. 

Other Relations: unnamed mentor, HalfSpeckle, BeaverJay, BlotchPad, SmallBlossom, AspenLight, MidnightTail, (apprentices) 

Clan: WolfsfootClan 

Rank: leader 

Characteristics: bloodthirsty, good fighter, reclusive, confidant 

Murder Motive: ambition, fun 

Number of Victims: 80+ 

Number of Murders:  80+ 

Murder Method: luring to fox, clawing/ripping throat out, drowning, shaking to death, disemboweling, skinning, poisoning, hypothermia, burning alive, breaking bones, blunt force, placing maggots into open wounds 

Known Victims: RobinKit, MorningKit, PatchKit, BoulderKit, RunningHare, RaccoonFur, PranceBlossom, PheasantJaw, GoldPelt, BadgerRiver, PinkFoot, TawnyPatch, SheepFang, WolfFeather, BlackKit, DayFur, CrestedSlip, FirePoppy, GrassKit, HayBird, ChasingShade, BristleFur, DuskCatcher, HatchNose, QuickKit, ThunderHorse, BreezeSplash, BriarNose, HollyPaw, SmallBeam, MallowLightening, HeronStorm, SleekDrift, LongRump, JumpLotus, SpiderWhiskers, PrickleFur, BroomDust, HollowStar/Stripe, CicadaStar, WolfFade, NeedlePelt, BitternFur, LarchKit, CrookedStone, PloverTuft, BogEar, BraveSkip, RainFur, FawnSnow, RushWish, FawnLeaf, LoudPelt, BlackSpeckle, ShardSpeck, Jayhorse, BubblingSky, OrangeRoar, HalfSpeckle, TroutPeak, PiperNoise, BeetleShade, DancingWhisker,   BayBlaze, SnapDragonBerry, ShrewHeart, CoconutTooth, GoldPelt, BadgerRiver, many rogues 

Victim Profile: Clanmates, rogues. 

Cause of Death: blood loss from many injuries

Cautionary Tale: beware the quick cats with long legs and sharper claws that haunt the forests

Story: 

WolfFern was born in a very large Clan mostly made out of his kin, but he never got very close to anyone except GoldfishFur. 

WolfFern grew up to be the incredibly ambitious apprentice to the deputy, WolfFade. 

It was truly a shame when sweet, elderly WolfFade showed up dead outside camp after WolfFern was made Champion. 

He didn’t have any issue with killing his mentor. It was just a necessity to become leader. WolfFern spent a moon planning how to get rid of CicadaStar, but in the end he didn’t need to. The anxious, thin leader who never shared how many lives he had left got sick and, to WolfFerns luck, was on his last life. 

Within a moon of becoming a warrior, he was deputy. Within a moon of becoming deputy, he was now leader. 

WolfStar starting killing. Sometimes those who annoyed him, sometimes for fun. 

He began washing his paws very frequently, which his best friend GoldfishFur noticed. GoldfishFur helped him kill many more cats, and forced WolfStar into a code of sorts. Helped him cover his tracks. And in return, GoldfishFur was made deputy. 

Over many moons his kill count grew, and he even found a mate of convenience. He had very few friends, and needed a way to keep connected to the Clan. To seem devoted to them. They had RainKit, MistleKit, and BristleKit together. 

Many, many more Clanmates died, and Wolfstar realized that he didn’t feel any grief in killing any of them, not even his kin. 

He took on many apprentices, and even appointed a Champion: HollowStripe, however he would have to wait until HollowStripe was no longer with kits. 

GoldfishFur helped him commit countless more murders and continued to do so after he retired early from his chronic joint pain in his front leg. BroomDust was an easy deputy to manipulate, but everyone knew GoldfishFur called the shots. 

The only time WolfStar truly grieved for was their father, PuppyNut. Wolfstar never received visions, but that night he prayed for PuppyNut to visit him. 

The secrets, the constant lies and covers, all the small injuries hidden in his long fur caught up to him and he lost it. He killed ten Clancats in front of the clan, and everyone was too scared when GoldfishFur turned on them as well to stand up to the cruel duo. 

And, to his Clan's horror, he began skimming the corpses and piling them in the centre of camp as an example. 

At the next elder's ceremony, he slashed SpiderWhiskers throat out. A couple cats died from the stress, more killed by GoldfishFur and WolfStar. HollowStripe was an easier deputy to manipulate anyway. Eventually WolfStar and GoldfishFur organized an attack with a group of rogues. 

WolfStar died of his injuries, but not before nearly exterminating the Clan. 

GoldfishFur 

Aliases / Nicknames: Two-faced Tom, Goldy

Gender: demitom 

Sexuality: bisexual 

Family: CoconutTooth, WhirlAster (parents), HerringBreeze (mate), GuppyShadow, TallyPaw  (daughters), MilkPaw, KoiPaw (sons) 400+ other family members, 60 who were alive at the same time as him

Other Relations: unnamed mentor, PoppyHeart, LaurelNight (apprentices) 

Clan: WolfsfootClan 

Rank: deputy (retired)

Characteristics: cold, goofy, good kitsitter, manipulative 

Murder Motive: to protect his best friend 

Number of Victims: 80+ 

Number of Murders:  80+ 

Murder Method: luring to fox, clawing/ripping throat out, drowning, shaking to death, disemboweling, skinning, poisoning, hypothermia, burning alive, breaking bones, blunt force. 

Known Victims: RobinKit, MorningKit, PatchKit, BoulderKit, RunningHare, RaccoonFur, PranceBlossom, PheasantJaw, GoldPelt, BadgerRiver, PinkFoot, TawnyPatch, SheepFang, WolfFeather, BlackKit, DayFur, CrestedSlip, FirePoppy, GrassKit, HayBird, ChasingShade, BristleFur, DuskCatcher, HatchNose, QuickKit, ThunderHorse, BreezeSplash, BriarNose, HollyPaw, SmallBeam, MallowLightening, HeronStorm, SleekDrift, LongRump, JumpLotus, SpiderWhiskers, PrickleFur, BroomDust, HollowStar/Stripe, CicadaStar, WolfFade, NeedlePelt, BitternFur, LarchKit, CrookedStone, PloverTuft, BogEar, BraveSkip, RainFur, FawnSnow, RushWish, FawnLeaf, LoudPelt, BlackSpeckle, ShardSpeck, Jayhorse, BubblingSky, OrangeRoar, HalfSpeckle, TroutPeak, PiperNoise, BeetleShade, DancingWhisker,   BayBlaze, SnapDragonBerry, ShrewHeart, CoconutTooth, GoldPelt, BadgerRiver, many rogues 

Victim Profile: Clanmates, rogues. 

Cause of Death: thrown into pit of starving rabid cats, snake bite. 

Cautionary Tale: beware the quick cats with long legs and sharper claws that haunt the forests

Story: 

GoldfishFur got along perfectly with his Clan. In fact, he was very popular.

When he caught WolfStar in the middle of a murder, GoldfishFur killed the cat before it could scream to him for help. 

WolfStar exposing the murders was very against their original plan, but GoldfishFur still used it to his advantage. The Clan now fully trusted him instead. 

He regretted the murders when he saw his Clanmates grieving, and he grieved for all the cats he had killed. One, however, nearly broke him: ChasingShade.

The two were fighting with a fox when GoldfishFur’s weak leg gave out, and the fox tore out ChasingShade's throat. 

When the deputy, BroomDust, spoke badly about WolfStar, GoldfishFur killed him before the Clan as an example. The sweet, goofy cat turning on his family. 

GoldfishFur had kits whom he loved, and desperately tried to keep out of the way of the rogue attack. The Clan fought back, stronger than they’d expected, and GoldfishFur was bitten by a snake after being backed up over the snake rocks. 

Before he could succumb to the venom, he  was torn apart. 

HollowStar

Aliases / Nicknames: HollowHearted Leader, HollowStripes

Gender: tom 

Sexuality: unlabelled 

Immediate Family: DuskCatcher, MallowLightening (parents), ShardKit, BrookLeopard, RubbleShade (daughters) LongKit, GrassKit (sons), many unnamed siblings

Other Relations:

Clan: WolfsfootClan

Rank: leader, Champion 

Characteristics: proud, ambitious, good fighter, excellent den builder

Murder Motive: exterminate all of QuickStar’s descendants 

Number of Victims: 60

Number of Murders: 60 

Murder Method: poisoning via deathberries and lilies, hiring rogues. 

Known Victims: WolfLilac, BrookLeopard, RubbleShade, many unnamed Clan cats

Victim Profile: cats from QuickStar’s family tree 

Cause of Death: neck torn out by wolf 

Cautionary Tale: beware the quick cats with long legs and sharper claws that haunt the forests

Story: 

HollowStar lasted a few moons after he became leader to the once thriving ClubmossClan, now shaken down and beaten from the inside. 

With so many cats having been murdered at the paws of WolfStar and GoldfishFur, the lan was left in shambles. Cats turning on each other, Clans spreading word of curses. It was all too much. They had to be right! It was all a curse! 

For decades, the Clans have been plagued by QuickStars legacy. It had to end. But first, HollowStar had something to do first. 

He only killed one cat directly, and that was WolfLilac. He couldn’t stand to hear her name called across camp. 

She was fierce, and put up a big fight. He earned a couple scratches along his back in exchange for her life. 

Next, he gathered as much deathberries as possible alongside his two surviving daughters, born secretly to a rogue and haven grown up in Twolegplace. They were young, and listened to him out of an eagerness to impress their father. 

They squeezed the deathberries into the pond, and within a day, half the Clan was seizing, frothing at the mouth, and convulsing on the ground by the drinking pond. 

His daughters waited patiently by his side while the screams slowed, more and more surviving cats deserting. If they were of QuickStar’s decent, they were swiftly disposed of by some rogues who were helping in exchange for safe passage through the forest. 

His daughters should have checked the prey he’d given them, for maybe they would have noticed the lily petals left inside it the day prior. 

It was finally over! Starclan would be so proud of him! 

The scent of blood quickly overtook the forest, leaving HollowStar in the middle. He should have realized that the starving wolves would have been interested in the easy meal.

Additional Information: 

--Submission by @wills-woodland-warriors

--Wolf:

Wills: "I left a lot out, but he’s one of my favourites and is incredibly interesting. He hid that he was killing for years from his clan. He never had an attachment to his kits or mate, only ever getting close with GoldfishFur and HollowStripe."

*He drove the Xlan mad. No one was brave enough to stand up to him. 

*He’s a very big and strong cat, and he’s about as ruthless as Alder/Myrtle and GremlinFrost. 

--Gold:

Wills: "also a very interesting cat from clangen, and again one of my favourites."

*Almost all events from these two stories are from clangens generated story itself!  cv Clangen Images are  from the brief moments he was in starclan during his trial. 

--Hollow:

*Few of QuickStar’s decendants possibly got away, but not very many. 

*HollowStripe was actually a very sweet child before WolfStar took him under his wing (arm? Paw?) 

*The end of QuickStar’s legacy! 

[hisbodycorpse]

廢棄的火熄滅┉┄─┉了它【 的光芒。

𝙸𝚅.℻ 戀愛中的鳥͟兒͟歌͟唱͟。͟ ⁝ 𖠂⠀ ⠀ ╮

𓉸 ，⠀⠀ ︽ 𝐏͟𝐞͟𝐨͟𝐧͟𝐢́𝐚͟𝐬͟. 🩸 ╱

[hairyjocktf]

Fire in the Forest

Adam sighed deeply as he unlocked the door to his apartment. The familiar scent of old laundry and takeout boxes washed over him as the door swung open. He slid his bag off his shoulder onto the floor and slumped onto the couch. Today had been one of the worst days of his life, to put it mildly. The company he’d slaved away for since graduating a few years ago had unexpectedly let him go as part of cost cutting measures. Every late night he’d spent at the office suddenly hit him as a waste, his hard work had never mattered to those up top. Adding insult to injury was his paltry severance package; with his rent it’d barely last two weeks. He wouldn’t even have time to breathe before having to find a new job.

Before he knew it he’d passed out sitting on the couch, waking up hours later to a dark sky out the window. Shit, he muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes before forcing his body up and off the couch. He tossed a frozen meal into the microwave before setting his laptop up on the table. With the microwave humming in the background he started visiting websites of companies he knew of in the same sphere. Career page after career page yielded no luck. He grabbed his food from the beeping microwave and continued to solemnly scroll through page after page of indeed listings, applying to every one he could convince himself he was qualified for. Soon enough it was two in the morning, and Adam decided to call it quits. He cleaned up his now very cold dinner and went to the bathroom to splash some water on his face and clean up for bed. His red hair glowed under the ceiling light, looking almost like fire. It was one of his more attractive qualities, he thought to himself, looking at his skinny frame and ghostly skin. He flipped off the lights and hopped into bed.

It was around ten the next morning that Adam finally crawled out of bed. He grabbed his phone off the desk and quickly checked for any job notifications. There was only one, and not one he recognized. It was a recruitment email from a logging company, Cascade Lumber. He skimmed over the email, they’d “found” his profile online and thought he’d be a good fit for a lumberjack role? That was ridiculous, he thought, and closed out of his email. Frustrated at no actual leads, he decided to take a walk for the morning and get back to searching that afternoon. While out trying to enjoy the rare sunny day, that email stuck in his mind. Really? A lumberjack? It was absurd, insulting almost. He was a software developer, not some country laborer. He got back to his apartment and threw himself back into the search, sending out applications one after another. The next day was much of the same, desperately trying to find more niche positions that might be hiring. Still no responses, though. Each day he became a little more stressed, a little more frantic in his search. How had no one responded yet? He had plenty of qualifications and experience, he didn’t understand the problem.

Two weeks had passed and Adam was against a wall. His severance cash was nearly dried up, and still nothing had come through, not even an interview. Even his connections had fallen through. With the bills starting to pile up on the counter, he was out of options. That was when he remembered the email from weeks before. At this point it couldn’t hurt to respond, maybe they had a tech position he could weasel into. He wrote a short response and sent it off. Just minutes later, as Adam was in the middle of making lunch, his phone buzzed. They’d responded already, inviting him out to their office. The address was nearly an hour out west, but what choice did he have?

The next morning he was on his way out of the city, high rises giving way to fields and then forest. Dense groves alternated with barren patches of recently logged areas, letting sunlight down to the road. He pulled down a narrow road and a few minutes later parked in front of a modest building tucked into the trees. His car was surrounded by huge trucks filled to the brim with tree trunks, as well as some large machinery he couldn’t identify. Upon walking inside he was greeted with a dim room full of old logging gear. He heard the footsteps of someone large approaching, before a huge man descended the stairs to greet him. He looked enormous in this small room, almost scraping the ceiling, and his frame was equally wide. His open shirt revealed a forest of hair on his chest, and his beard was incredibly thick. Adam suddenly felt very intimidated, despite the large smile on the man’s face.

“Hey there! You must be Adam, so glad you took us up on visiting. We really think you’d be a great asset on the team. Whoa! I’m getting ahead of myself, the name’s Derek,” he reached out his absolute paw of a hand. With a shake Derek immediately began touring Adam around the office. Derek was overwhelming with his enthusiasm, but also in his assumption that Adam had agreed to start working there. He didn’t have another option, but they didn’t know that. They got into Derek’s truck and he drove off into the forest towards a work site. The majority of the information Derek was spitting out went in one ear and out the other, but Adam tried to look as engaged as he could. The truck came to a screeching halt in an area they were currently clearing. The sound of chainsaws was like nails on a chalkboard to Adam as they stepped out of the truck. In the distance he saw machinery whirring away cutting trees, as well as men harnessed up with saws. Derek went into more detail about working in an active logging site, the dangers and safety measures. Adam was instead busy looking at the men working nearby. They had on hard hats and bright orange vests overtop thick jackets or flannels. They all looked big and burly, like they’d been lifting for years. Adam wasn’t sure how in Derek’s mind he would be able to do anything here.

“...and I think that just about covers most of it. Oh! And the salary is $55k per year, with annual raises and benefits. We try to do right by our guys here,” Derek smiled at Adam. That number had finally gotten his attention. Nothing close to his old job, but better than zero. In a decision that probably warranted some more thought, Adam opened his mouth.

“Great, when do I start?”

Derek’s smile doubled in size and he slapped Adam on the back. “That’s my man, let’s get you all set up then while you’re out here,” he said. They both got back into Derek’s truck and drove back to the office. Inside Adam was handed the same hat and vest he saw the men at the site wearing.

“Now that’s just the basics, you’ll probably want some heavy clothing while on the job, and get yourself some good boots while you’re at it,” he chuckled, looking down at Adam’s aging vans shoes. Adam thanked him and walked back to his car. Still unsure of this whole venture, Adam departed. On the way back he stopped at some workwear stores, looking for boots and clothes to fit the job. Having no idea what he actually needed, he just looked for the closest things to what he remembered the guys there wearing. Close enough, right?

Back at his apartment he cautiously tried on all the clothing he’d just gotten. To his surprise, it all fit fairly well, despite his body being much smaller than most of the guys out there. His thin frame looked bulkier under a thick layer of protective and warm clothing. He almost… liked how it looked? Adam quickly put that thought out of his head and stripped off the gear. The sun was already dipping below the horizon and he had to be out there early in the morning from now on. 

The alarm came even sooner than he thought. Adam rolled out of bed at four in the morning, and was out the door as soon as he could get himself together. The air was chilly outside, with not even a hint of the sunrise yet in the darkness. He drove straight to the site Derek had assigned him to, finding a group of men chatting together while donning their equipment. Adam introduced himself, and began putting on his own assigned gear. The day flew by as several other guys instructed Adam on how things worked. He was more keen to pay attention to everything this time, listening intently to each burly man who showed him how to use a chainsaw. By the end of the day he’d felled a few trees and learned the basics of the larger machinery the team used. Despite it being cool all day, Adam was sweating up a storm in his thick coat. Maybe he’d overestimated how much layering was needed. The drive home felt shorter than it had the day before, but Adam was frustrated at a recurring itch on his jaw, it just kept coming back no matter how much he scratched at it.

The next few days were much of the same, Adam’s time was highly supervised while he was learning, but he was surprised at how easily he took to it. His original plan of finding a tech position to switch to had already been forgotten. The other lumberjacks seemed to like Adam as well, despite his scrawny stature. His red hair made him easy to point out, even though it was usually covered by a hard hat. The itch on his face reared its head a few more times, as Adam’s baby smooth face was slowly overtaken by a light red stubble. Each day it would poke out just a hair more, reaching out from his chin towards his sideburns. Adam failed to notice this, just as he was blind to the muscle his skinny body had started to put on. In just a week he’d gained serious definition, he had slight pecs and shoulders, and his arms looked like he’d been working out for years. Must be the intensity of the job, he thought to himself when one of his old t-shirts no longer fit. As the days passed, his stubble connected across his face, and some wispy hairs poked out of his growing pecs. Barely noticeable, but there nonetheless.

The weeks continued to pass as Adam got settled into his position. He started to feel like a real lumberjack as trees fell by his hand day by day. He began to fit in more with the other men as well. His bright red stubble thickened. Hairs that were barely more than peach fuzz grew thick and pushed out into a true short beard. The wisps on his chest likewise grew thicker, curlier, as more pressed out of his pecs. The red hairs grew and wove together until the hairy coating could no longer be ignored. His chest hair was normally kept beneath multiple layers, until one of his fellow loggers spotted the rug while he was changing. The crew gave him their old flannels and forced him to wear them and let some of the fiery red hair poke out. They all loved it, he was looking like them with their thick beards and hairy chests. The tiny new hire was quickly vanishing beneath muscle and fur, as the hairs on his chest spread downwards over his tight stomach.

Adam began noticing that each day he would leave work absolutely soaked in sweat. His layers just absorbed it leaving him a sopping mess as the job was so labor intensive. It didn’t bother him, he just bought more work clothes to cycle through, but he was oblivious to the other effects it was having. Adam’s body, steeping in sweat all day, was producing more and more. Not only that, his previously bare pits began sprouting fine red hairs. At first it was just a few thin hairs poking out, but as they were soaked in sweat they grew thicker. More hairs popped out of the damp pit, filling in rapidly. His once smooth pits were growing into a dense jungle of hair, the hairs thick and red, tangling together into a tuft that trapped even more sweat and stench. They spread out of the confines of his pit, connecting with the pelt on his chest and beginning to pop out across his upper arms. He would dig his fingers into his furry pits to scratch, the hair growing in itching like mad. Each day more hairs pushed out, more sweat was trapped, and the more he smelled like the other men around him.

As the weeks rolled on, Adam kept having to buy new clothes between sweat stains and simply outgrowing them. His body had put on a lot of size since starting, his thin frame bulking out as he grew taller and wider. The weather was growing colder, and the added layers were hiding his growing size, as well as his growing fur. The hair from his pits was continuing its march, with wiry hair cropping up across his shoulders, triceps, and was especially dense on his forearms. Red wispy hairs sprouted all over his upper body, filling in gaps and growing into a thick ginger rug. His body was growing at a rapid rate, biceps filling out and pecs becoming real pillows, but it wasn’t all muscle. His size was softened by a healthy layer of fat that only encouraged more hair to sprout. His already dense chest hair thickened further, red hairs swirling around his nipples and growing longer and curlier. The chest fur grew up and over his shoulders, creating a seamless carpet from his hands through his torso. Even his back was beginning to show signs, as light red fuzz was gathering around his shoulder blades and above his waistline. Hair sprouted out of his shirt collars and poked from his sleeves; even under his layers of clothes his coworkers knew Adam was hiding some impressive fur.

What they couldn’t see was below Adam’s waistline. The fur coat from his stomach slowly inched downwards, the wispy hairs occupying his groin quickly overrun with a thick red bush. The hairs pushed out from the base of his cock, thick and curly they sprouted and tangled together as the bush expanded. The hairs climbed up and connected with the rug on his stomach, and out to his thighs before racing down his thick legs. His pubes grew denser into a thick triangle of red hair, his cock growing larger to not be hidden beneath the jungle. Adam hardly noticed as the bulge in his jeans grew day by day, sweat soaking the area as it developed a thick musk that was barely contained by his underwear. He had to buy larger sizes after his balls swelled considerably, dropping lower than before and sprouting with their own rug of red hair. The hairs spread down over his taint before blossoming in his ass crack, a thick fiery explosion of fur pushing out as the hairs grew like weeds over his large cheeks. His legs grew stockier to support his growing body as the hairs continued their march from the thick nest of pubes. His thighs were coated before it spread to his calves. His feet stretched and ached as they grew multiple sizes in just a few weeks, before too being buried beneath a thick mat of red hair.

Winter finally began showing its ugly face, and Adam’s job grew rougher daily as temperatures plummeted up in the mountains. His body adapted, packing on considerable bulk. Gone was his thin, twinky frame, replaced now by a thick and strong body, built for strength and warmth. His thick muscular frame was coated in a layer of fat to insulate him, and his belly seemed to just keep growing. The fur coat he’d been developing only continued to come in. The red hairs grew thicker and denser every day, pushing against his clothing. His fiery red beard, which had been well kept until now began erupting from his face with a fury. Thick hairs curled over his upper lip as the hairs on his cheeks pushed out inch after inch. More hairs filled in between as the coating crawled higher on his cheeks. It surged down his neck and blended with the thick chest hair. He looked wild, but it kept his face warm from the frigid winds. He even got complimented on it, earning a reputation as a real mountain man from his fellow lumberjacks. Adam had fully adapted to his job, there was no going back. He was now a hairy, hefty lumberjack with a fur coat to rival an animal’s. He’d grown to be one of the best in the crew, each tree felled returning as a hair in his pelt.

[sapphiremusings]

bride | vampire!aemond targaryen

cw: explicit smut, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), dubcon, loss of virginity, breeding kink, blood drinking

Only the light from the full moon shines down between branches and leaves, illuminating her way as she walks through the forest rarely traveled. She doesn’t know how she got here, still in her shift and robe that has been thrown over her shoulders half-heartedly, the forest floor crunching underneath her slippers, yet an unknown force seemingly presses her forward. Her mind is in a daze, heart thrumming against her chest sporadically and her ears feeling as if they are under water, and through her vision is a fog that refuses to leave, no matter how many times she rubs her eyes. Up ahead, through the heavy brush, sits the abandoned castle that was once called Harrenhal, an accursed place in history. Steadily, she makes her way towards it.

Harrenhal is a mighty fortress, once home to many great houses of Westeros, all in which were struck down by unforeseen tragedies. Whispers of its twisting halls being cursed, haunted by those that died within, scattered throughout the Riverlands, and all along Westeros, until the castle was abandoned. Now, it sits alone, stone burned dark from the days when dragons ruled the skies and their riders sat on the old Iron Throne.

Centuries have passed since then, yet Harrenhal remains the same, merely overgrown in its shrubbery and the vines that trail up its walls. The steady rhythm of her heart begins to speed up as she walks through the courtyard, eyes averting away from the blood stained ground, up towards a window at the very top of the castle, where a single light shines. Like a moth to a flame, she gravitates towards it.

Inside, it’s dark, and she finds herself walking through cobwebs, past open windows that let the cold air in, and up a large number of stairs, until finally, the lit room sits at the end of the hallway. Slowly, her footsteps creek along the floor, her spine tingling at the whisper that enters her ears and swells within her head; “Come to me.”

Her fingers reach out to touch the ancient wood of the door, which sits open just a crack, its hinges squeaking as it opens fully beneath her push. The room is lit by what seems to be a hundred candles, scattered around and perched on almost every surface, including the floor. A large window draws her attention, and standing in front of it, a tall figure, as still as a statue.

He towers over her, even from her spot by the door, lean and strong in his posture. A sheath of silver hair gleams down his back, so beautiful and shiny that it looks like silk, and her hands itch to reach out and run their fingers through the long strands. Slowly, he cocks his head to the side, and her breath hitches as his side profile comes into view among the shadows.

“You’ve finally made it,” he muses, all strong nose and smirking lips, stained the color of roses. Suddenly, he turns, facing her stunned figure. He hums, head tilted. “Come now, bride.”

She thinks he is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen. Even with a scar that runs down the left side of his face, a glimmering sapphire within his missing eye’s socket. His other eye is an alluring shade of violet, though when he turns slightly, it looks almost red. He has a strong jaw and chin, skin porcelain and without color. He looks like a god.

He seems amused by her tied tongue, watching patiently as she tries to form a sentence. When she does, it comes out in a whisper. “Who are you?”

Quickly, so much so that her head spins and she stumbles back, he stands before her, close enough that she can touch him if she merely lifts her hand. He hums, his own hand coming up to run a finger down her cheek, the sharpened nail leaving a small streak of red on the flushed skin. His single eye studies her features, thumb resting under her chin as he tilts her head back, her lips agape. He smiles.

“My name…” he pauses, dipping his head lower, his cold breath fanning across her face, “is Aemond, and I have waited a millenia for you, ābrazȳrys.” (Wife).

The strange word echoed around in her head, and she knew it for High Valyrian, the old language of the dragonlords that once ruled over Westeros with fire and blood, hailed from the kingdom of Old Valyria. Her father is a scholar, one with an interest in history, and she had grown up learning about the years before, from before there were even the Seven Kingdoms. Tales of forest children and the First Men, of the Andals and the ice creatures, were all stories she was told at bedtime.

And then there is his name. Aemond. Another Valyrian name, one she had only heard once. Centuries ago, the ruling House Targaryen was torn to shreds when kin began to fight kin, and their dragons danced among a burning sky. There had been a particular prince that had caught her eye, a one-eyed kinslayer who rode the largest dragon in the world. When the war ended, the cruel Targaryen prince had vanished, and rumors swirled in his wake. Most believe he had succumbed to his uncle, a rogue prince who had a fiery vengeance. Some wonder about his paramour, a so-called witch that had lived in the same abandoned castle she was standing in now.

Her mind reeled over the possibilities. Could he be the long lost prince? After all this time? She knows it is not possible, for too much time has passed, yet he stands before her all the same. Cautiously, she reaches her hand out, resting it against his chest, breath catching within her throat at the stillness beneath his ribs.

He isn't breathing. His heart isn’t beating. It is as if he is a statue, carved from stone.

He gazes down at her, curious. Her voice comes out in a stutter. “H-how…? I don’t understand.”

His other hand encircles her own, pressing it tighter against him, eye fluttering closed as he begins to trace it up his chest, bringing it to his nose. He inhales, nose pressed to her wrist, pulse pounding under a web of blue veins. Her own eyes threaten to close, overwhelmed at the feeling of warmth that overcomes her, traveling from her head to the pit of her stomach, where it goes to rest between her quivering thighs.

He presses his lips to the same spot, opening his eye to peer up at her flushed expression. “You smell so sweet, my love.”

Her head spins, and she sucks in a sharp breath as he begins to kiss down the length of her arm, the silk sleeve of her robe lifting to rest in the crook of her elbow. When his lips reach the fabric, he moves to her shoulder, which the robe has fallen down from, leaving the bare skin exposed. At the nape of her neck, his tongue, surprisingly hot, darts out to lick at her pulse.

“Please,” she murmurs, head tilting to the side and her hands reaching out to grab at his tunic, pulling him closer.

“I am never letting you go, dōna riña,” Aemond muses, moving to press his lips against her jaw. “No, you were born to be my bride, and I shall take what belongs to me.” (Sweet girl).

Cold hands ruck up the skirt of her nightgown, caressing the soft skin of her thighs, which are covered in goosebumps as they shiver in desire. Some part of her is ringing an alarm bell, for she doesn’t yet know how she got here nor why she is here, or even how it is possible for this man… this being, to be before her. He has no beating heart, no working lungs, and though she knows it’s unfathomable, he is a Targaryen prince. With long silver hair and a single purple eye, she believes this in her heart.

Her thoughts come to a halt as long fingers curl under her soaked garment, touching her in a way no man has. A quiet gasp escapes from between her lips, mind at a stand still as his finger dips down to circle at her slick hole, pressing slightly but not yet entering. Instead, he moves to gather more of her arousal between his digits, thumb going to a spot that makes her jump, heart pounding against her heaving chest.

Aemond shushes her, a sweet coo leaving his smirking lips as he watches her with a hooded eye. His thumb rubs circles against that same spot, and a tight coil begins to turn within her stomach, nipples hardened to sharp peaks as she pants.

He brings his face down, forehead resting against her own. “Do you taste as sweet as you smell, ābrazȳrys?”

When she lets out a whimper, knees buckling from beneath her, he lets out a deep groan. Suddenly, with a force and speed that makes her dizzy, he is laying her down on the large bed that is against the wall, the velvet blankets smooth against her hot skin. Her nightgown is bunched up around her hips, robe long forgotten on the stone floor, along with her slippers. He kneels before her, fingers under the band of her undergarments, which he practically rips off her, tearing them down her legs.

“A-Aemond,” she whines, wanton as she writhes atop a sea of red velvet.

His nose nuzzles between her thatch of curls, tongue darting out to lick up her essence, which coats her entirely. Her back arches, hips wiggling away as a broken moan leaves her lips, but he merely throws an arm over her stomach, pressing down and locking her in place. Another moan is ripped from her throat, hands reaching down to nestle in his long strands, fingers curling around them and tugging. A deep rumble is heard within his chest, vibrating against her cunt, which pulses in return.

His tongue is ravenous as he laps up her arousal, swirling around that sensitive spot that makes her toes curl, before moving down to dip into her clenching hole. She leaks even more there, thighs shaking around his head as he pushes his tongue in deeper, until his face is pressed fully onto her weeping cunt. He groans, thrusting the muscle in and out, before retracting and bringing his fingers up to take its place. When his tongue lays flat against her and his finger eases its way through her tight entrance, she nearly screams as her head seems to explode, body vibrating in pleasure as the tightly wound coil in her stomach snaps.

Another finger joins the first, pumping into her steadily as she comes, feeling as if she is floating above her own body. Aemond starts to speak, but the words don’t process as her head buzzes, dazed in a pleasure she has never felt before. Whatever he says, her body clenches at, moving on its own accord with no way of her stopping it and regaining control. When she finally comes down, he doesn’t stop, continuing to lap at her quivering cunt, fingers beginning to curl upwards inside her, searching for a spot that they find almost immediately.

“My sweet, sweet bride,” he grins, resting his head against her thigh, mouth covered in her slick. “I want to lick this pretty cunt every day now. You’ll let me, won’t you?”

She whimpers and moans, tears prickling the corners of her eyes as another wave of pleasure begins to wash over her. He seems pleased by this, eye wide as it flickers between his fingers that are buried deep inside her and her flushed face. “Sȳz riña.” (Good girl).

He finally removes his fingers after her second peak, digits coated in her juices, which he brings up to her lips. Without a word, she opens her mouth, tongue swirling around them as she sucks, the taste of herself causing her blood to heat.

Aemond seems dazed as he stares down at her, member straining against his leathers. The sight both frightens and arouses her, her own mind still in the clouds and seemingly not coming down anytime soon. Slowly, cautiously, she reaches a hand out towards him. He grabs it, laying a kiss on her wrist once more, before moving to grab at her shift. She doesn’t stop him as he pulls it off her, leaving her naked under him. The drafty air of the old room brushes against her skin, and she shivers, nipples hardened and body covered in goosebumps.

His head bends and he wraps his lips around her right bud, hand grabbing at her left breast and squeezing. He’s heavy against her naked frame, the cold leather of his clothing feeling pleasant pressed along her flushed skin. She feels sticky all over, so unbearably hot that she presses herself closer to his odd coldness. He hushes her softly, lifting his head from her bosom and capturing her lips with his own. It’s messy, a clashing of tongues and teeth, and his rigid member feels like a hot iron against her thigh. Dazedly, she runs the tip of her tongue against his front teeth, gasping when a dull pain throbs throughout the wet muscle.

Aemond pulls back sharply, purple eye now a deep red, matching the crimson blood that stains his plush lips. Two sharp canines protrude from the top of his mouth, glimmering under the candlelight. His eye is focused on her lips, which hide her bleeding tongue from his view, and with a groan, he presses back against her, his own tongue forcing its way into her mouth. He caresses the small cut, licking up the blood that seeps from the wound, hands grabbing ahold of her tightly.

With a sigh that almost sounds like a growl, he pulls away so suddenly, and in a blink of an eye, he stands before her naked. Her eyes trail over his figure, porcelain in color and seemingly carved from stone. The light from the moon and the scattered candles create daunting shadows along his form, and through the fog of her mind, she realizes that she wants nothing more than to touch him. She sits up, reaching her hands out towards him, and he complies with her silent request, leaning down to allow her to explore. He watches with a curious eye, still red in color, as her fingers dance along his shoulders and down his chest, brushing over his pink nipples and his lean muscles.

“You’re beautiful,” she murmurs, bringing her lips to kiss the spot where his heart should rest, holding her breath when no heartbeat is felt.

As if reading her thoughts, he pushes her back down against the bed, and her eyes are immediately drawn to between his thighs. A twinge of fear rushes through her at the sight of his hardened cock, its head flushed pink with thick veins that curl up its side. She has never seen one before, still a maiden, waiting for her father to betroth her to whichever man he deems worthy. But she feels as if Aemond’s is too large.

His lips curl into a smirk at her wide eyed gaze, bringing himself forward to lean over her, his silver hair falling around them like a curtain. His body, still cold and heavy against her, like a stone wall. She tenses as his hand goes between them, grasping his member in his palm and lining himself up against her entrance. Once again, his gaze is dark, brows furrowed and jaw tense as he runs the tip up and down her leaking seam, nudging that special spot that makes her spine jolt.

“You are mine, riñītsos. Mine to claim, mine to fuck,” he hisses as his tip begins to press into her tight hole, arms straining to hold himself above her shaking frame. “Mine to breed. Kesan dōrī ivestragī jā.” (Little one), (I will never let you go).

A broken sob leaves her lips as he pushes forward, a sharp pain settling deep between her legs, which only grows the farther he goes inside her. She begins to shake her head, pushing her palms against his shoulders with a moan. “It’s too big… it won’t fit!”

“Shhh,” he hushes her sweetly, lips coming to kiss along her ruddy cheeks. “Don’t worry, dōna riña. I’ll make it fit. You were made for this… for me.”

Her vision is clouded as she nuzzles her face in the crook of his neck, wrapping herself around him and clinging onto him as the pain slowly ebbs away, turning into something entirely different. When he’s sat completely inside her, a wanton moan leaves her lips at the fullness, her head vibrating as she gasps up at the ceiling, trying to catch her breath among the surging pleasure that begins to make its way through every nerve. Her hips begin to cant upwards, the slickness of her arousal helping her to slide against his cock, her fingers gripping tightly to strands of his hair.

“Please…” she whines, nearly sobbing.

He hums, lifting himself up as he begins to move his hips, creating a steady rhythm as his hands grab ahold of her waist. She is tiny below him, so much so that he can see the outline of his cock in her stomach, a sight that makes him groan and speed up, balls tightening in pleasure as her wet heat squeezes him. He eyes her thundering pulse at the base of her neck, his fangs beginning to ache and his throat going dry. His thrusts grow harsher, fingers digging into her flesh as she cries out beneath him.

“Kostagon nyke angogon ao, ābrazȳrys? Kessa ao ivestragī aōha valzȳrys mōzugon hen ao?” (Can I bite you, wife? Will you let your husband drink from you?)

His words come out in a mix between whiny and growling, teeth gritting as he leans down towards her open neck. Though she doesn’t quite understand what he said, only knowing a few words in Valyrian, the neediness in his tone has her back arching, and she greedily pulls him closer. Some submissive part of her wants nothing more than to please him, to give him all he desires and more. She gasps out a small “please.”

He nuzzles his nose under her jaw, rubbing against her pulse as his hips slow down, his thirst growing immensely. He brushes the tips of his fangs against her vein, thrusting his cock deep inside her, before biting down, eye rolling to the back of his head as warm blood spills down into his mouth. He moans, hips stuttering, pulling her as close as he can until they are flushed against each other, listening to her whimpers. She scratches her nails down his back, her cunt pulsing around his heavy cock as her blood flows from her vein, dizzy in her pleasure and loss of blood.

She tastes of the finest ambrosia, rich against his tongue and tingling his tastebuds, and his cock seems to swell in size as he cradles her in his arms, fangs imbedded into her neck. Her vision blurs, the rising wave of her arousal coming to a peak, and she nearly screams out as his hand slides between their stuck bodies, fingers circling at the throbbing bud at the apex of her cunt. His cockhead pounds steadily against a rough patch within in, and he doesn’t let up on his assault as the wave crashes over her, drowning her. She gasps for air, everything silent except for the beating of her heart and the slurping of Aemond’s tongue lapping at her lifesource.

“Sȳz riña,” his own peak begins to wash over him, lips murmuring against her neck and between sips of blood. “Iksā vok. Ñuha vok ābrazȳrys.” (You are perfect. My perfect wife).

With one last groan, he fills her with his seed, taking one last gulp of her before ripping himself away, mouth open against her wound as he pants. His tongue begins to lick at the two points, saliva coating them and slowly healing the marred skin. She is barely awake beneath him, exhausted from her pleasure, yet the sound of his voice and the feeling of his seed hot against her womb makes her throb all over again. She leaves wet kisses along his shoulders and chest, relishing in the feeling of him pressed against her, sweaty in the aftermath of their love making.

Slowly, he pulls out of her, cock only slightly soft, ready for another round. He feels as if he could spend an eternity between her legs, pounding into her tight, wet cunt and breeding her over and over again. For a moment, he has a thought to chain her to this very bed, his obedient little bride. He wants to lap at her sweet blood and lick up the essence of her, until every part of her is claimed. When his seed begins to seep out of her used hole, he brings two fingers to plug into her, refusing to let any of himself leave her. He smiles at her adoring expression.

“Will you marry me now, my lord?”

Aemond brings his coated fingers to her lips for the second time that night, humming in delight when she sucks on them, tongue swirling around and licking up every last drop of their combined arousal.

“Yes, my love. And when the time is right, I will turn you into my eternal bride.”