#dusky thorn | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

impala-dreamer · 2 years ago

Text

Prey For Me

A Story From The Boys Universe

~Nothing's worse than being chased through the woods by an all powerful supe... except, maybe, getting caught... ~

Soldier Boy (Ben) x F!Reader

1207 Words

Warnings: NSFW, Cat and Mouse Play, Biting, Breeding, Beautiful. It's porn...

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

The forest was endless and the light was starting to fade. The sky above the canopy was ebbing to indigo, flooding the woods with the golden glow of sunset.

Dead leaves crunched beneath your shoes; damp moss slid through the treads, threatening to pull you down. Branches tore at your arms, thorns scraped at your exposed flesh; the trees were relentless, but so was he.

“Come out, come out wherever you are!”

Soldier Boy’s deep voice echoed through the woods, bouncing off of the landscape and vibrating through your chest.

He was after you.

He was pissed.

You were in trouble.

A scream bubbled in your throat but you bit it back, denying him the pleasure of knowing you were terrified.

“Come on, Y/N,” he sang, whistling casually with every other step. “You can’t keep running forever…”

Shaking, you clung to a tree for a brief moment, desperate for a deep breath. “I can try!” you yelled back, instantly cringing when his footsteps silenced.

He was listening, pinpointing, focusing on your location.

“Ain’t no place you can hide.”

His voice was clearer suddenly, closer, as if he’d turned toward you. Panting, you peered through the trees, squinting in the dusky light, but it was useless. His suit was as green as the leaves, his eyes even more so. The forest was the perfect camouflage, the perfect place to track you down and end it all.

“I will find you.”

Rotting wood crackled beneath his boots as he advanced.

“And when I do…”

Trembling, you pushed away from the tree and took off, arms pumping, chest aching.

“You’re mine.”

Your ears were ringing, pulse pounding like a bass drum in your head. On and on you ran, beating away the lower limbs, twisting around trunks, racing for your life.

As you skirted a thick patch of trees, a piercing whistle made you jump and the roots grabbed at your toes, pulling you down. Face in the dirt, you scrambled to get up, but the earth was damp and slippery, the panic in your system too electric.

“There you are.”

Gasping, you spun on the dirt and looked up to see his smug glare and gloating smirk.

“Knew I’d catch you.”

Breathless, you reached for him, fingers grazing the star-embedded fabric covering his upper thigh. “So you did…”

Ben fell to his knees and crawled close. “You didn’t have to run so damned far.”

“Wanted to make it fun for you. Chase down your prey and all…” Your knees spread for him as he approached and you tugged on his sleeves, wanting him closer, faster.

Another smirk lifted his plump lips as he set his hands aside your head and hovered over you. Hair fell into his eyes as he dipped to kiss you, lips ghosting your mouth, breath teasing, hot and delicious. “Hope you’re not too tired though…”

You locked your legs around his trim hips and kicked his ass with your heels, pushing him into you. “Never.”

He bit down on your bottom lip, growling as the adrenaline peaked. His kiss was rough and hungry, his tongue laced with whiskey and lust. You clawed at his suit, scratched at the nape of his neck, tugged your fingers through his hair, needing more.

“Well,” you teased, lips at his ear while he nibbled on your pulse. “You got me. What’re you gonna do about it?”

He moved fast, ripping his way through your clothing, shredding the fabric at your breasts and cunt.

“I’m gonna bruise you…”

His suckling kiss was dangerous, nearly breaking the skin around your nipples as he toyed with each in turn.

“Gonna bleed you, breed you, make you scream…”

His teeth were viscous, scraping the delicate flesh wherever he pleased, making his way down.

When you reached for him, he swatted you away. When you tried again, he pinned your arms above your head. He was insatiable, his lust almost canibalistic the way he bit down into your shoulder, licked at your hips, tore at your thighs.

“Please-”

Your body was aching, blood boiling beyond what you thought was safe. Every cell was screaming for him.

“Ben- Please!”

Green eyes shot upwards and slick, slightly swollen lips curled devilishly.

Within a breath, he had you where he wanted you; your shoulders pushed deep into the leaves, your back arched, hips high. He dropped down and shoved his tongue between your legs, diving into your cunt without hesitation or preperation. None was needed.

Instant pleasure sparkled through your system and your eyes rolled to the darkening sky. His lips pulsed on your clit, tongue swirled deep inside. He devoured every bit of you, drank down every drop of sweetness you gave up.

Moaning, slurping, humming into you, Ben lost himself in your cunt, feeding on your essence.

“God- Fuck- I- Ben!”

Another swipe of his tongue had you shaking, thighs clamping down around his ears as you came.

He didn’t let the moment linger, flipping you over easily onto your belly. The sweet but murky scent of leaves and dirt flooded your senses as he tugged your ass upwards and yanked down his pants.

His cock slid through your slick and you let out a moan that echoed through the trees.

“Yeah, you want that, don’t you, doll?”

Biting back another cry, you looked back at him, eyes blurred and lustful. “Yes… Please!”

His half-gloved hands clung to your plump hips as he buried himself in deep. The pressure was exquisite and you pushed back, taking him all the way in.

“So fuckin’ tight, damn!”

He hissed with each thrust; jaw clenched and teeth bared as he fucked you on the forest floor.

A victim to his rhythm, you rocked on your knees, kept your face out of the muck. Your body pulsed tight around him and his nails dug into your flesh, breaking the skin just enough to make you scream.

“There it is!” he howled, slapping your ass and grinding in harder. “Gonna fill you up real good… Paint your fuckin’ insides white.”

Tears flooded your vision and the forest blurred into muddled shades of green. The sun was nearly gone and the air was cooling around you as night fell.

He kept you warm.

He kept you on edge, crazed and aching.

Fingers raked through your hair and pulled, yanking your head back viciously. Your spine curved unnaturally and your jaw dropped; eyes wide and tongue out, you took the last thrusts with a strangled cry as he came, gushing into your throbbing cunt.

You fell when he let go, your body vibrating and limp.

Ben tucked himself away, laughing to himself as he looked you over. His cum was dripping down onto the forest floor and he reached down to scoop it up with two thick fingers.

“Hey-” Crouching down, he turned his hand and shoved the two messy fingers up into you. “Don’t waste it…”

You whimpered when he pulled out; raw and overly sensitive. “You’re… fucking amazing,” you whispered, barely able to lift yourself off the ground.

Dark lashes fell, green eyes narrowed on your face. Sucking in his bottom lip, he let it fall away with a slow scrape of teeth.

“I know,” he grinned. “I know.”

2023 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@aditimukul @agirlwithdemonblood @amanda-teaches @akshi8278 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @b3autyfuldisast3r @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @because-imma-lady-assface @bloodline1632 @charred-angelwings @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @covered-byroses @djs8891 @deanwinchesterswitch @deansyahtzee @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @iamsapphine @idreamofdeanie @ilsawasanacrobat @impalaspixie @jawritter @justcallmeasmodeus @kazsrm67 @kittenofdoomage @leigh70 @lovealways-j @lyarr24 @mariekoukie6661 @maggiegirl17 @mistressofallthingsgeeky @pandaxo79 @peachy-vans @rachiem4-blog @roseblue373 @sacriceria @samwellwinchesterthebrave @sexyvixen7 @spideysimpossiblegirl @spnexploration @stevekempscocktails @the-wounded-healer05 @thoughts-and-funnies @vulgar-library

#the boys fanfic #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #one shot

334 notes · View notes

preciouslandmermaid · 4 months ago

Text

quiet fury in your head [xi]

Dream of the Endless x AFAB!Reader!Goddess / Sandman Fanfiction

Note: This one took me so long to write and i don't love it LMAO but next chapter is gonna be like pure smut-no-plot so...that'll be fun. The fic only has TWO MORE CHAPTERS until it's complete that's crazy lmao tagging @sapphireonline cuz they asked so nicely to be tagged :). Also, my fics on ao3 are for registered users only due to AI scraping.

No use of Y/N. See part 1 for all the tags tbh.

Warnings: none

Rating: 18+

(Read on AO3) || (masterpost for other chapters)

While standing on the shining, white salt flats, The Gates of Horn and Ivory open for you and the Dreaming cautiously welcomes you.

It’s emptier than you recalled (or perhaps the Dreaming creatures are hiding from you). You allow yourself the pleasure of viewing the Dreaming for the first time without anxiety and without fear. You glide your fingertips across a cobblestone bridge, and the clear, inviting bubbling brook beneath reflects an uneasy, shifting portrait of heartbreak and exhaustion. It takes a moment to realize the reflection is your own. You push away from the bridge, dusting residue from your palms, and trek deeper into the Dreaming.

A swarm of blue, shimmering butterflies fly past – their wings glow beneath rays of sunlight and faint glimmers of light trail in their wake. You lift your hands in greeting, hopeful that one might land upon your palm, but they merely dance through your fingertips with glittery wings before vanishing into the air. These creations radiated with such gentleness and care.

Morpheus’ absence is a thorn beneath your nail. You wrestle your difficult emotions into subservient silence. Your desire for him will achieve nothing and accomplish nothing. The prideful King has made his choice. He chose a glass orb prison in an amateur’s basement rather than to be with you and fulfill a centuries-old promise to reunite.

The landscape deepens to rich burgundy, dusky tan, and blooms beneath effervescent golden sunlight. The dry, warm air fills your nostrils and lungs. You stand on a plateau of flat, crimson rock. The sun remains in a perpetual state of dusk, painting the sky periwinkle, and pink, and streaking claws of orange. You crouch and lift fine, rusted sand and gravel into your palm. You hold it for a moment, sensing its warmth, feeling the essence of Dream’s magic before releasing it, and watching it swirl and twist on the wind.

A creature approaches you, timidly, and is burdened by a shell on its back—its face is weathered and gray. The skin around its neck is saggy and loose. A lantern swings on the tall, oak-sculpted stick it carries. It stands a few feet shorter than you, squat and bipedal, and watches you with beady and cautious eyes.

It bows its bald, speckled head. “I remember you,” it says in low, resonate timbre. “The Dreaming whispers your name, Lady Morrigan.” It speaks slowly with small ‘hmms’ between each word.

You think of the Corinthian. Do all the creatures assume you abandoned them? Is this creature yours? Did you create him? You hold no memories of creating anything inside the Dreaming. You only manipulated what already existed. Yet, you cannot ignore the fact that you may have forgotten something. Anything is possible in the life of a reborn God.

“Do they know I died?” You ask, “that I was unmade in the minds of Men? That I was forgotten? Erased?” You can’t help but spit that final word with contemptuous venom. The graciousness of forgiveness is a difficult lesson to learn.

The lantern swings when it starts to walk again. “The minds of Men may have forgotten. We did not.”

“Do you expect my gratitude?” you ask dryly.

Are you supposed to give this tortoise-creature a boon? That is what your devotees of old wanted. They had chanted, and sacrificed, and called you into their battlefields or into their beds. They begged for your blessing on all fours and you were fickle; You would kiss the brows of beloved warriors, or bite their hearts with a freezing, cold grip.

But you are no longer Nemain of the Sisters Three. You are simply The Morrigan, Queen of Nightmares, a forgotten monarch in the realm of Dreams. Your purpose slowly manifests before you. You promised Dream that you would return. If only he wasn’t so unreasonably stubborn, then he would’ve been next to you, with Roderick’s bones ground to dust beneath your heel. You desire for vengeance seizes like a vice around your throat. Roderick ought to be dead. The roots of his family tree torn asunder and fed to his funeral pyre.

The creature finally deigned to respond, “I expect nothing, my lady.”

Its black tongue licks its’ wrinkled, dry beak. You sense its’ desire to leave. The Dreaming flutters with this knowledge and cajoles you into trying to get it to stay. You fold your arms across your chest. It moves at a glacial pace, its’ lantern swinging, its’ clawed feet kicking up small plumes of reddish dust.

You say, “It will take you decades to reach where you’re going.”

“It is not about where I will be,” It says, “it is about the going.”

You shrug and allow the creature be.

You cannot effect anything within the Dreaming. Those powers remain locked inside a small ring that Dream used to wear on his pinkie finger. Aimless, you walk through the Dreaming, and you talk to Her inhabitants and in the words of a strange tortoise—you focus on ‘the going’, rather than the destination.

The castle doors groan when they open. From the outside, it seems as if nothing had changed, but the interior plumes with dusty motes and freckles of ancient, unraveling magic. Your fingertips trail against the dusty banister as you move through the arched hallways with new eyes and a wounded heart.

You don’t know this castle well. You never traversed it when you were confined to the Dreaming. Except for one place, of course. A place where an old friend might be found.

The scent of paper and leather fills your nostrils and Lucienne steps from the aisle of books as if she was expecting you.

“Lady,” she bows her head as she says it.

“Lucienne.” Her name is a feathery sigh from your throat. The sudden warmth that spreads through your chest is unexpected, but not unwelcome. Lucienne’s face hasn’t changed. Her inquisitive eyes peer at you from behind her rounded spectacles. Her full cheeks round when she smiles.

“I cannot express how good it is to see you,” she says, a book clutched to her chest. “The shelves knew of your return before I did.” She looks up, her expression icing into fraught sadness streaked with regret. The spine of a book trembles, like a frightened creature, before drops from the shelve and falls open to reveal its blank pages. Are all the stories gone?

“They are not all empty,” Lucienne says, as if reading your mind, and offers the book she’s holding to you. You read the etched, golden title. The Adventures Of...it reads before fading away onto the stiff leather. You flip through and discover an irregular layout of full chapters combined with blank sheets.

You ask, “What else remains?”

“Your room,” she says, returning the book to her hands and wearing it like a shield before her heart. “I did not go within, of course,” she adds quickly, “but I know it’s there.”

You knew it too. You lick your lips and silently leave the room without farewell. Lucienne doesn’t call after you, nor does she ask the questions you can see written across her face. There will be a time for questions later. Right now, you need to explore and confirm this reality – this land of broken Dreaming. A palace without a monarch. A graveyard without a keeper. A home without a hearth. The doorknob turns beneath your palm, welcoming you, as so many small pieces of the Dreaming tend to do.

A room you never slept in—except for when you were poisoned. A closet with clothes you never wore—except for your single black cloak. You step into the closet and quietly admire the craftsmanship of Dream’s meticulous touch. Your fingertips glide through gauzy starlight, twinkling in your palm. You lift your nose to floral fabrics and your stomach swoops at the scent of full spring dancing through your nostrils—lush, bright meadows, humming bumblebees, and the tickle of pollen at the back of your throat. The burning cold of frost, the viscous-ember of magma, the angry swell of a blue-gray sea; all of it is contained within your wardrobe.

Your jaw clenches. How can someone capable of such careful beauty be so stubborn and illogical? Why can’t he see that his realm need him? That his selfishness is causing harm? You clench your hand around fabric that is storm-cloud and heat-lightning.

A name drops into your mind. A name you had accidentally forgotten. You sweep yourself into the dress in swirls of gray-and-white color before you vanish from the Dreaming in a thunderclap.

Your toes sink into the damp, cold sand and the rainwater prickles onto your skin. The air hums with the brewing storm. Something in your veins – something powerful – ricochets down your spine.

“Dima!” you shout into the roiling, dark clouds above the ocean. “Morrigan, Goddess of Nightmares, calls upon you.”

The lightning flashes and strikes, erupting a piece of earth beside you, and sending hardened diamonds into the air as the budding rain commits to a roaring deluge. Dima is crouched in a three-point landing, her head bowed, kneeling and reverent at your feet. Your heart burns with joy.

“Rise,” you say while opening your palm to her. “I would meet your eyes as a friend.”

Her hand slides into yours and you meet her white-eyes with a smile aching your cheeks.

“You changed your name,” she says. You cannot tell if the water down her face is from the rain or her tears. In the end, it does not matter. You are happy to see her. She came when you called. She remembered you. That is all that matters.

“You remember me.”

“I am not as fickle as mortals.” Dima sniffs. “The sky, the stones, the water, and trees…” She gestures with both arms to the world. “We don’t forget.”

You say, “Neither do Endless.” It wasn’t only Dream’s devotion that re-made you and brought you back into the world as a Goddess. Dima, too, played her part in your revival. An Endless and the personification of Storms believe in a Goddess. What an odd following you have claimed. Dima looks away when you mention Morpheus.

“He lifted your banishment,” you whisper, and your words are clear despite the storm. “Didn’t he tell you?”

Dima folds her fist over her heart. “I could not go back without you.”

“Then come back with me now.” You offer her your hand once more.

Her smile is bright. “Is this a choice or an order, my Lady?”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head at the gall – the bravery – of her. You are the Queen of Nightmares and yet Dima does not flinch. Perhaps that’s because she knew you before your death. You don’t frighten her and you don’t want to. She was your first friend, after all.

“A choice, Dima.”

The rainfall starts to lessen. “Then I choose to accept.”

50 years later…

(1972)

This is your third time visiting Fawney Rig. The second had been a rushed visit after you felt Jessamy’s death. It had been like an arrow through your lungs. You brought yourself to the cellar and demanded Morpheus allow revenge—if not for him then for Jessamy.

You were bound to Corinthian’s promise to not harm Roderick. But, you could harm others. You could make them all suffer for their foolishness. You could make Roderick miserable. But, you wouldn’t do it without Morpheus’ blessing. He needed to balance the scales. He needed to owe you his life, or something close to it, so that you could truly be equals.

Yet, Morpheus did not speak to you.

That had been about fifty years ago—give or take. It was time to see if the Dream Lord’s stubbornness had finally eroded. The snowfall is light, though thick piles rest on the pine like bruises. You choose to feel the cold. You let it push through the weaves of your wool coat and prickle against your cheeks and nose.

You reach for the doorknob and your fingers freeze in mid-air, straining against an invisible force, before omniscience wraps itself around you. They’ve warded Fawney Rig from me, you think with a furrowed brow. It was Corinthian, of this you have no doubt.

“Cowardly little nightmare,” you mutter to yourself, though you are a little impressed. It’s been decades since you’ve seen Dream, yet Corinthian is afraid of you, and worried that you’ll find a way around the promise that was made. “Smart,” you concede, blinking snowflakes from your eyelashes, “but cowardly.”

You reach out to Dream through the ambiguous, void-space of one mind talking to another.

“I do not expect a reply, Lord of Dreams, but I’d like you to know that they’ve warded the mansion against me.” You pause walking the perimeter. “So, even if you wished for my help, I could not give it.”

The magic surrounding Fawney Rig is well-crafted, tailored, and not even your various shape-shifted forms can penetrate it. You circle towards the entrance.

“It’s snowing. The moon is full.” You don’t know if Dream can hear you, but it feels nice to try. He rejects all of your ritual daggers, but perhaps he will take this instead – insignificant details of the world that he loves from the Goddess he revived.

“I’ve always had a fondness for nights like these. The world is gray and white. The moon is like a silver coin in the sky.”

You crumple powdery snow between your fingers. “You know, the mountains were my favorite place in the Dreaming. They still are, if we’re being forthcoming about it. I’ve yet to visit them again. They remind me of...solitude and serenity, the clarity that comes from being a distance.”

You pull a novel from the inner lining of your coat. There are hours before the next shift change and you want to see if the guards perform any rituals during the transition. You are curious to discover if you can break these bonds.

The hours whittle away as you speak to Dream, mind-to-mind.

“I heard about Roderick’s death. It could’ve been crueler. Should have been.”

“I would’ve driven him mad, if it had been me. I would have plagued him with visions of his dead son until he freed you with broken, bloody hands.”

“I ran into your sibling, Desire. About…” You count the years in your head. “Thirteen years ago? I asked if they knew I’d die if I returned to the Heart Tree and they said they had their suspicions.” You scoff. “Which I believe means yes. You likely know them better than I, so draw your own conclusions.” You idly wave your hand as if brushing the story aside.

You disliked being set up as a pawn in an emotional chess game between ancient, cosmic entities. You had told Desire as much and were seething when you turned your heel and said, “Leave me out of it next time.”

You aren’t a pawn, anymore. You look after the Dreaming. You look after mortals—especially young, scared children, like that little girl with the dog—regardless of whether or not they provide offerings or prayers. You don’t like to get involved in their messy, dramatic, and short mortal lives, but you like to watch them. You like to see how the threads of fate unravel and twist unexpectedly.

In time, you know that ‘The Morrigan’ will eventually reach the collective consciousness, but you just don’t yet know what new stories they will tell.

“I’ll return when I can.” You rise to your feet from where you had been sitting in the snow.

“Why?” His voice scrapes through your mind like gravel. Your knees buckle and you catch yourself on the manor’s brick wall. The cold air bites through your lungs. You want to live inside the roughed caress of his voice. A sweeter sound never made, you think, as you try to calm your heart.

Your heart hums. “Nobody else listens half as well as you do.” You touch your forehead against the wall and the Ward stings your skin.

“Until next we meet, Morpheus.” The promise lingers in the air among the snowflakes.

#fic: quiet fury #morpheus x reader #dream the endless x reader #dream x reader #the sandman fanfiction #sandman x reader #sandman x you #morpheus x you #dream x you #dream the endless x morrigan #fem reader #dream x y/n

18 notes · View notes

axilarycobra · 1 month ago

Text

[Wings of Fire] D-E Dragon Character Headcanons

Hey everyone! Back again. Changing around the name formatting so that it's hopefully easier to find. I actually have very little experience with using Tumblr so I'm trying to get better at using tags so that things can be found on my profile.

Danaid - after being released from the flamesilk cavern, Danaid became a member of the SilkWing Assembly. Before the Tree Wars when they were young, Danaid and Scarab were in a relationship, but Scarab was led to believe that Danaid was killed during the war. The two reunited after the war and eventually also started dating Grandeur and Sequoia (old lady yuri).

Darkstalker - Darkstalker looked a lot more like an IceWing than most dragons think, but he used his magic to hide it because he didn’t want to look like his father; additionally, he originally had frostbreath, but he enchanted himself to have fire instead for the same reason; Darkstalker wanted to love Clearsight romantically, but he just couldn’t, which is why it was so easy for him to see himself hurting her.

Dazzling - after resigning from queen, Dazzling becomes a fruit gatherer; she also is in a relationship with Fruit Bat.

Deadlyclaws - Deadlyclaws used to have a casual relationship with Deathbringer, both just experimenting with each other. He is the older brother of Bigtail.

Deathbringer - After the NightWing Exodus, it was revealed that Quickstrike was the sister of Queen Battlewinner, making Deathbringer a NightWing prince. He and Glory dated for a while and eventually had Firefly who united the RainWings and NightWing as she was from the royal families of both tribes, but Deathbringer and Glory eventually broke up.

Diadem - after passing on the throne to Monarch, Diadem spent time away from her tribe writing poetry. Years later, she returned from her isolation and was shocked to find that the SilkWings were under the rule of Queen Wasp. She searched the Hives for Monarch but failed to find her before she was caught by the HiveWings and imprisoned. She died of old age.

Diamond - after Arctic left for the Night Kingdom, Diamond never had more dragonets because she became paranoid that if she did and they had animus magic, they would betray her like Arctic did. She hoped that one of her other sons' dragonets would inherit the magic, but the royal family never continued down the lineage of her sons, but rather Snowfox who took the throne from Diamond.

Discretion - Discretion was one of Vigilance's sons.

Dragonfly - after the Tree Wars, Dragonfly settled in Jewel Hive, her own neighborhood being named after her; she was a HiveWing with golden-yellow scales, with flashes of darker orange and black lines around her eyes.

Droplet - Droplet is a completely fictional character and the story they are from was not inspired by historical events; Coral wrote Droplet because that’s how she wanted one of her daughters to be like.

Dune - Dune had a crush on Six-Claws for a period of time when they lived in the Scorpion Den, but Dune soon realized that Six-Claws did not return his feelings; one of the reasons why he ran away from the Scorpion Den is because he needed to distance himself from him and Thorn for his own mental health. He would eventually fall in love with Asha, but her death caused him to develop depression.

Dusky - after Dusky gets his wings, he’s a weak flier and prefers to use his silk to get around; he and Mink become close friends.

Eagle (L1) - Carmine named the daughter she had following Sunset's death Eagle in honor of Eagle who had survived the Royal SeaWing Massacre.

Eagle (WT) - during the war, Eagle and Pyrite had a short relationship before Queen Scarlet cut it off, sending Eagle to Possibility to keep him away from Pyrite and figuring anything out about her; later, Eagle tried to find her again and ended up learning about Hailstorm; he is confused about his feelings at first, but realizes that he might have feelings for Hailstorm.

Earthworm - after the reworking of the Hive Kingdom, Earthworm would become a teacher at Cicada University. They are the dragonet of Lubber and Grasshopper.

Earwig - after moving to the LeafSilk Kingdom, Earwig would get to live out her dream of becoming a florist and owning a flower shop in the Freedom Market. She and the librarian end up in a relationship.

Eclipse (DoD) - Eclipse has a close relationship with Smokeseer, her mother, and even though they are both adults, they still live together.

Eclipse (L1) - Eclipse would have been an important advisor to Queen Vigilance, needing the copper bracelet to hide her thoughts to keep her visions of the future a secret from the queen.

Eel - Eel never married and adopted his dragonets from another branch of the royal family after they couldn’t take care of their dragonets, so although he is not the biological father of his sons, they are still royals.

Egret - Egret was very anxious and always felt under pressure, but hid it from her siblings and tried to act strong to make them less scared, but only made them more scared. She was especially scared due to the war with the SeaWings and SkyWings during her mother's reign and was fearful of the other tribes, which was why she was so upset when Copperhead ran off with a dragon from another tribe.

Ermine - Ermine's family is from the IceWing palace in the higher ranks of the circles. He always felt pressure to be perfect, similar to Winter, but he ended up falling in love with a NightWing and quickly shed his conditioning.

Exquisite - Exquisite always had a thing for Magnificent which Magnificent knew about, but even though Exquisite directly flirted with her, Magnificent didn't let anything happen between them until after they retired. They started dating after they weren't queens anymore. Exquisite and Bromeliad are sisters.

#wings of fire #wof #wings of fire headcanon #wof headcanon #headcanons #my headcanons

12 notes · View notes

corporatecoinings · 26 days ago

Text

(Snowy) forest + wolf (or canine) themed ID pack

Crafted by Alaska's paws 🐺🐾 Header mask | /fleaseditstuff Divider | Made by Alaska (me) (I prefer it that only I use the divider.)

Names

Alaska ✦ Alder ✦ Alpha ✦ Alpine ✦ Arctic ✦ Ash ✦ Aspen ✦ Aura ✦ Aurora ✦ Avalanche ✦ Birch ✦ Blizzard ✦ Boreal/Borealis ✦ Boris ✦ Brutus ✦ Canine ✦ Cedar ✦ Cinder ✦ Colorado ✦ Comet ✦ Crecent ✦ Crystal ✦ Dakota ✦ Dawn ✦ Diamond ✦ Douglas ✦ Dusk/Dusky ✦ Ebony ✦ Eclipse ✦ Elm ✦ Everest ✦ Evergreen ✦ Fang ✦ Fawn ✦ Fenrir ✦ Fern ✦ Forest/Forrest ✦ Frost ✦ Frostine ✦ Glacier ✦ Gray ✦ Grove/Grover ✦ Howl ✦ Icecap ✦ Icicle ✦ Ivory/Ivy ✦ January ✦ Juniper ✦ Lixue ✦ Lumi ✦ Luna ✦ Maine ✦ Mist/Misty ✦ Miyuki ✦ Montana ✦ Moon ✦ Neve ✦ North ✦ Permafrost ✦ Pine ✦ Polar ✦ Polaris ✦ Redwood ✦ River ✦ Rocky ✦ Sable ✦ Siberia ✦ Silas ✦ Silver ✦ Sirius ✦ Smoke/Smokey ✦ Snowcap ✦ Snowfall ✦ Snowflake ✦ Snowstorm ✦ Spirit ✦ Spruce ✦ Storm ✦ Summit ✦ Sylvester ✦ Taiga ✦ Tempest ✦ Timber ✦ Tundra ✦ Twilight ✦ Valor ✦ Vega ✦ Vixen ✦ Wilder ✦ Winter ✦ Yukina ✦ Zeus

Pronouns

arctic/arctics ✦ arf/arfs ✦ bark/barks ✦ birch/birchs ✦ bite/bites ✦ bloom/blooms ✦ branch/branchs ✦ breeze/breezes ✦ breezy/breezys ✦ canine/canines ✦ chew/chews ✦ chill/chills ✦ chilly/chillys ✦ claw/claws ✦ cold/colds ✦ creek/creeks ✦ dark/darks ✦ fang/fangs ✦ fauna/faunas ✦ fern/ferns ✦ fir/firs ✦ flora/floras ✦ fluff/fluffs ✦ fluffy/fluffys ✦ forest/forests ✦ fur/furs ✦ growl/growls ✦ grr/grrs ✦ holly/hollys ✦ howl/howls ✦ leaf/leafs ✦ luna/lunas ✦ lunar/lunars ✦ moon/moons ✦ night/nights ✦ nocturn/nocturns ✦ nocturnal/nocturnals ✦ nox/noxs ✦ paw/paws ✦ pine/pines ✦ river/rivers ✦ ruff/ruffs ✦ sap/saps ✦ sapling/saplings ✦ shadow/shadows ✦ snow/snows ✦ snowflake/snowflakes ✦ spruce/spruces ✦ thorn/thorns ✦ timber/timbers ✦ tree/trees ✦ tundra/tundras ✦ wind/winds ✦ winter/winters ✦ wolf/wolfs ✦ wood/woods ✦ 🐺/🐺s ✦ 🐾/🐾s ✦ 🌲/🌲s ✦ 🌳/🌳s ✦ 🌿/🌿s ✦ 🍁/🍁s ✦ 🍂/🍂s ✦ 🍃/🍃s ✦ 🍄/🍄s ✦ 🪨/🪨s ✦ 🪵/🪵s ✦ 🌑/🌑s ✦ 🌒/🌒s ✦ 🌓/🌓s ✦ 🌔/🌔s ✦ 🌕/🌕s ✦ 🌖/🌖s ✦ 🌗/🌗s ✦ 🌘/🌘s ✦ 🌙/🌙s ✦ ⭐/⭐s ✦ ☁️/☁️s ✦ 🌨️/🌨️s ✦ ❄️/❄️s

Genders

Alonesnowaesic ✦ Auroralupincryin ✦ Fogforestic ✦ Forestgender ✦ Forestwolfgender ✦ Forestwolfsprintic ✦ Howlgender ✦ Neigean ✦ Nightforfulmoonic ✦ Northwolfic ✦ Noxlibic ✦ Redwoodgender ✦ Sillywolfic ✦ Snowfallgender ✦ Snowmoonlic ✦ Snowynightgender ✦ Starforestaesic ✦ Tundrawolfgender ✦ Wolfbitic ✦ Wolfforestic ✦ Wolfgender ✦ Wolfmoonbodiement ✦ Wolfmoonic ✦ Wolforigender ✦ Wolfpawic ✦ Wolfplushigender ✦ Wolfstarmoonic ✦ Wolfthing

Feel free to use this ID pack however you want. For hoarding labels, for figuring out your identity, for system members, so on and so forth.

[Nemesis protects this blog! we are pro-endo, anti-radqueer, anti-transid, and anti-proship, but our labels are for everybody; unless we specify a specific reason as to why what we have coined is exclusive in the post. please dont come here with ill intention, we are not afraid to block!]

9 notes · View notes

blackswan446 · 11 months ago

Text

worth it - three.

→ pairing: yan!knj x reader

→ wc: 679 (😰)

→ cws: heavy descriptions of gore and murder, heavy descriptions of cutting (not as sh)

→ notes: im just pulling all this stuff out of my ass this story has NO set plot and i don't even know how it's gonna end #lol after writing: AAAJGSFGJ ITS SO SHORT IM GONNA CRY

collapsing onto the ground, namjoon struggled to catch his breath as his back touched the cool, grimy metal of the dumpster. even though it was a fit guy, who made time to work on his physique and be healthy, the heinous act he had just committed really took the wind out of him. it was worth it, though, every last second of it, and as he set down the bat, now covered in a thick coat of blood and flesh, he took a slow, deep breath.

he observed the scene in front of him, taking in every detail of the guy's limp form. he laid there, in a sticky pool of crimson growing quickly below, crumpled up with his limbs sticking out in directions unattainable without a broken bone. every inch of his skin and body was covered in gashes, from which ruby red liquid flowed like water. a gaping hole sat on the back of his skull, clumpy brain matter spilling from it, leaking out onto the asphalt. his hands, the same disgusting hands that had been used against you, were broken and bleeding, fingernails cracked and broken from his earlier attempt to claw at the ground, away from his assailant.

he was dead, alright. and as the light of the moon casted a ghostly glow onto his battered corpse, namjoon felt a sick sense of pride in his actions. despite this feeling, he still felt weirdly...unfulfilled. like he could do more for you, more to devote himself to you as your guardian angel and dedicated lover. although his entire reason for doing all of this, for the gifts, and for the entire obsession, started because he fell victim to his own curiosity, he had grown an intense adoration for you. the more he learned about you, the harder he fell. so he felt obligated to do more to prove himself, he wanted to do more for you.

pondering what else he could possibly do to further intertwine you and him forever, his mind wondered to the small switchblade in his pocket. he had brought it just in case he needed something a bit more to use on the...thing...that he had dealt with just moments before (spoiler alert: the bat was more than enough).

maybe he could make it useful now. he had heard plenty of fiction plots in which someone carves their lover's name into their skin...why not make it reality? sure, it would hurt like hell, but if you're giving someone a beautiful rose, you're bound to get pricked by its thorns. and the pain of his skin splitting beneath the steel is nothing more than a drop of ink in the ocean of passion namjoon held in his heart.

he didn't think twice before taking the dainty blade from his back pants pocket and rolling up the left sleeve of his long black shirt. the click of the blade filled the silence around him, the shiny metal glinting in the moonlight like a diamond, glittering in the damp, dusky alleyway. taking a deep breath and pressing the cool blade to his clear, unmarked wrist, namjoon didn't have to pray for the courage to press down.

biting back an array of curses and complaints as a thick drop of blood rolled down his wrist, he slowly carved out the lines and swoops of your first initial. combined with the darkness of the sky and his own warm lifeblood staining more and more of his wrist as it flowed freely from his new, red oblation. he didn't care about the pain, or the blood, or the scars it would leave. this is what he wanted, no, what he needed to do.

continuing the excruciating yet addictive action, over and over until he was left with a scarlet mess and beautiful testimony of his affection. with every cut he made into his clean, porcelain skin, he became more and more enslaved to your very being. through his eyes, you were his divinity, and he the humble worshipper, who was fully prepared to do anything in your honor.

anything.

taglist: @teugiie

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere namjoon x reader #yandere namjoon #namjoon x reader #bts fanfic #yandere #kim namjoon x reader

29 notes · View notes

booksofstars · 5 months ago

Note

Who are your favorite wings of fire characters?

oh i love wof asks :)

bolded are top favorites, the rest are ones i really like

arc one:

peril

glory

tsunami

sunny

clay

thorn

coral

blaze

glacier

scarlet

arc two:

all of the jade winglet (esp moon and turtle)

anenome

sora

hailstorm/pyrite

avalanche

secretkeeper

ruby

foeslayer/hope

peacemaker

arc three:

luna

dusky

freedom

lynx

sky and wren

other:

clearsight

darkstalker

fathom

indigo

whiteout

albatross

orca

#cham caws #wings of fire #wof

10 notes · View notes

twilights-800-cats · 7 months ago

Text

<< Chapter 26 || Chapter 27 || Chapter 28 || From the Beginning || Patreon & Ko-Fi >>

Chapter 27

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

The pinkish-orange light of dawn crept slowly above the treetops, engulfing the forest’s budding branches in a pale flame. Shadepool watched, heart pounding, as the cool, dusky shadows of the hollow were slowly swallowed up by the warmth of a new day.

At Tinystar's silent command, the warriors formed a firm line stretching from the apprentice's den to the tumbledown stones leading out of camp. They stood shoulder to shoulder, leaving no gap. Every cat held their breath, and each warrior was still from their ears to their tails - only Spiderpaw seemed filled with nervous energy that she struggled to contain, and Mousefur hissed something harsh that corrected her.

Shadepool hated it. The anticipation made her eyes water. With her claws, she clung to the earth, saying a silent prayer to StarClan: Don't let them drive us out; don't let them hurt us!

“Deep breaths,” Brackenfur's voice said softly. His tail lay across her flank, measuring her breathing. “Stay calm, for their sake.”

Shadepool saw the sense in that and obeyed. Being a medicine cat was as much about presenting confidence in uncertainty as it was about learning herbs and their uses. It was one of the first lessons Brackenfur had ever taught her, and she let his presence fill her with a quiet calm that disguised her unease.

The heavy and pungent scent of WindClan drifted into camp from above the thorny barrier, bitter with anger. Swallowing, Shadepool glanced at the cats clustered near the warrior's den: Sorreltail, with her belly bulging; Dustpelt, looking viciously upset he wasn't standing in the battle line; and Whitewing, who was comforting a very nervous and sniffling Larchpaw. They were her responsibility. She would see them safe.

Sootfur, who stood with them, caught her eye and nodded. On your mark, he said silently with his paws. The WindClan battle party could capture them in the forest if they left too early. They needed to wait for exactly the right moment.

Shadepool glanced at Brackenfur. The other cats could surely make it up the stones and out of camp with some encouragement, but she worried most about him - the stones would be wet with dew and possibly unstable from the changing seasons. His leg had pained him enough this leafbare and made it challenging to cross harsh terrain as it was. She didn't want her mentor trapped in a camp embroiled in a violent battle.

I’ll drag him up there if I must! she told herself.

A bird cried in the forest, and WindClan warriors burst into camp. The thorn barrier trembled, struggling and failing to hold its shape as warrior after warrior pushed through, paying no regard to its careful construction nor how the barbs tore at their pelts.

Mudstar led them, bristling from ears to tail. His limp was still prominent, though his leg was healed. Like shadows, his warriors streamed in behind him - every one he had, it looked like: from Crowflight, his deputy, to Bramblefur, the gentle queen whose eyes now burned with undisguised hostility. Only Robinwing was absent, probably kept in camp for the sake of her kits.

Shadepool took the one chance she had to glance at Crowflight. Her heart caught in her throat - he looked sleek and ready for battle, moving on his toes beside Mudstar. His gaze was fixed on Tinystar, and he pointedly avoided looking at Mistyfoot, who glared at him as if she hoped his pelt would catch fire.

How far would he have to go in this battle?

Shadepool felt Brackenfur shift beside her. Slowly, the two of them crept towards their charges, their tails and ears low to avoid being spotted. Sootfur followed, crouching as if he were ready to spring onto prey.

“Turn back, Mudstar,” Tinystar snarled. He stepped forward, tail bushed threateningly. “If you leave now, no one has to get hurt.”

It was almost a comical sight, standing up to Mudstar with how small he was - Shadepool might’ve been amused if she didn’t know how deadly her father was.

“Any bloodshed this morning is on your paws, Tinystar,” Mudstar hissed. “You've had every opportunity to deliver the cats responsible for the crimes committed against WindClan.” His claws flexed. “You lead a Clan of murderers and codebreakers, and we did not journey so far and lose so many only to settle here with traitors!”

Tinystar scoffed. “You speak of treason while your warriors sneak over borders to ambush innocents! Every step of the way, I have given you a chance to back down, Mudstar, and still, you refuse. For the final time: ThunderClan did not kill Onewhisker or Barkface, and Emberstep's death was an accident,” he insisted, baring his teeth. The fur along his shoulders lifted. “It had nothing to do with us!”

Mudstar's ear twitched. The hatred in his eyes only grew, igniting into horrible flames. He hissed, “There are no ‘accidents’ with ThunderClan.”

The world held its breath.

“Attack!”

Shadepool wasn't sure which cat had yowled it - Tinystar or Mudstar - but the WindClan cats surged forward like a wave and, like the walls surrounding them, the ThunderClan cats held firm. The smell of blood was in the air, and the battle had begun.

“Now - hurry!” Brackenfur hissed.

Shadepool had to tear herself away from the sight. Sootfur already had Whitewing and Larchpaw up the first of the rocky steps, with Sorreltail ready to follow them. Dustpelt, however, was protesting - he shoved Brackenfur aside when Cinderpelt's yowl split the air.

“Dustpelt!” Brackenfur hissed, regaining his footing. “Come back!”

“You'll have to drag me from StarClan's hunting grounds to keep me from battle!” Dustpelt snapped back, eyes blazing and teeth bared.

Shadepool put herself in his way. “Cinderpelt is fighting for you!” she reminded him. “You'll do her no good if she has to worry about your safety and her own!”

Dustpelt curled his lip, but Shadepool stood firm, her heart thudding rapidly. She held her breath - Dustpelt wasn't the type of cat to back down easily, but Shadepool would do anything she could to keep him from recklessly risking his life - even if she had to drag him up those rocks herself.

Finally, the brown tabby tom lashed his tail and huffed, turning back toward the rocks. Shadepool exhaled, her heart fluttering. She was grateful she hadn't had to get any more forceful than that with her own Clanmate.

Whitewing and Larchpaw were about halfway up the rocky path, aiding one another. When Larchpaw slipped, Whitewing grabbed him by the scruff and helped him up, digging her claws into the stone. She pushed him ahead, nodding encouragingly. Sorreltail was up partway, and Dustpelt nearly knocked her over when he began charging his way up the path, bristling all along his spine. Brackenfur hissed at him to be careful.

“Hurry, hurry...” Sootfur bounced on his toes, glancing between their slow procession and the battle. Shadepool glanced over her shoulder.

The ThunderClan line was holding still, but even Shadepool could see cracks beginning to form. Mistyfoot was wrestling with Smokewillow, and a whiskerlength away, Crowflight was dueling Mousefur and Spiderpaw. Tinystar had Mudstar's throat in his jaws, but Thorndusk knocked him away. Graystripe tackled the golden tabby with a growl, and the tangled crowd of fighting cats swallowed up her Clanmates.

Shadepool returned her attention to the evacuation, her heart pounding hard. They had so little time! It was Brackenfur's turn. Shadepool swallowed her misgivings and nudged him along.

“You can do this,” she told him softly.

Brackenfur huffed. “Of course I can! I'm no kit...”

But he hesitated at the first stone. Shadepool saw his eyes flicker with doubt as he considered his next move. His injured leg trembled.

“Come on, Brackenfur!” Whitewing called down from the top. She was with Larchpaw, who was helping Dustpelt up by his scruff. Dustpelt landed on his belly at the crest of the hollow, panting.

Whitewing insisted again, her eyes wide, “You can do it!”

Brackenfur grimaced.

“You have to go, Brackenfur!” Sootfur hissed, his fur bristling.

Stones scattered down the rocky wall. Above them, Sorreltail gasped in pain, crouching down onto a large, flat boulder lodged about halfway up. Shadepool's heart stuck in her ears.

“Sorreltail, are you okay?!” she yowled, putting her paws on the first step.

“I-I don't know!” Sorreltail's mew was shaky. “My belly hurts...”

Brackenfur's ears pricked. Spurred to action, the golden-brown tom scrambled up the stones like a cat possessed by a bird, his paws skimming the rocks. Shadepool winced as he banged his old injury against one of the steps, but Brackenfur didn't even seem to feel it - he reached Sorreltail in a few heartbeats and had her on her paws a moment later.

“She's okay,” Brackenfur called down. “It's just stress!”

Shadepool sighed, relieved for her friend and that Brackenfur had managed to get at least halfway to safety, but she could see blood trickling down Brackenfur’s twisted leg and her stomach clenched again. How badly had he hurt himself?

“Fox-dung!”

Sootfur's hiss made Shadepool glance over her shoulder. She stiffened, horror creeping up her pelt - the line of ThunderClan warriors had finally broken, and the fighting had spilled out into the rest of the camp. Cats were writhing and tussling everywhere in the clearing, like screeching tumbleweeds trapped in a gully. Dens were shaking - nowhere in the hollow was safe.

“Go, hurry!” Sootfur insisted, jabbing his paws into Shadepool's side.

Shadepool found herself all but pushed into the rocks. She turned to protest, only to see Webfoot slam himself into Sootfur's side. The two gray tabbies twisted away, wrestling furiously on the ground. Shadepool saw claws flash, and the scent of fresh blood tinged the air.

Shadepool let out a howl of anger. Claws unsheathed, she leaped onto Webfoot's back. She grasped the older tabby warrior's scruff in her jaws and hauled him off of Sootfur - only to have his wiggling cause her to lose her balance, sending both of them to the ground.

Coughing, Shadepool struggled to breathe with her muzzle smooshed between the ground and Webfoot's pelt. A moment later, Webfoot was pulled off of her. Shadepool shook her head, blinking away stars in time to see Sootfur sending the older warrior away with a sharp blow to his hindquarters.

“Are you okay?” Sootfur demanded, panting.

Shadepool nodded.

She hauled herself to her paws and glanced up at the stony path. Sorreltail and Brackenfur had made it to the top, finally - everyone was safely out of the hollow. Shadepool felt relief wash over her.

Before she could call to Sootfur to come up with her, the gray tabby warrior was face to face with Softbreeze, a fierce warrior she-cat whose white paws were stained with blood.

“Trying to run, cowards?” she hissed.

Sootfur arched his back and spat in response.

Shadepool's tail stiffened. She glanced up at her charges, who stared back in horror and hoped they understood - she was a medicine cat, but she wouldn’t leave Sootfur to fight all these battles alone. Shadepool hurried to his side and bared her teeth.

Softbreeze was not intimidated. The pale she-cat lunged at Sootfur, teeth bared.

Blood roared in Shadepool's ears. Sootfur crouched, prepared for Softbreeze to land on him - but Shadepool leaped, catching the WindClan she-cat's thin, wiry body between her forelegs, remembering in a flash a move from her journey.

Softbreeze was at least surprised before they crashed into the ground together. Shadepool ignored the way her foreleg pulsed with pain and dug her hind claws into the queen's belly, scratching furiously in the way she had seen warriors do before, as Stoneheart had taught her.

But her foe was not impressed. Softbreeze wiggled away from Shadepool easily, then turned and slammed her paw into Shadepool's head so hard that the younger she-cat staggered back towards the stones, her vision swimming with stars.

“I've seen kits do more damage!” Softbreeze snapped. “What a joke! Does ThunderClan need its medicine cats to defend it?”

But Shadepool had given Sootfur the opportunity he needed. The gray tom had snuck up behind Softbreeze, and while she was gloating, he pounced, landing on her back. His teeth flashed, and he bit down hard on her ear.

Softbreeze howled in pain. She bucked and kicked, trying to throw Sootfur off - but the gray tabby clung stubbornly until Softbreeze begged him to let go. Only then did Sootfur release his grip, stumbling back beside Shadepool, his jaws filled with Softbreeze's blood and a scrap of her ear. Softbreeze spat a curse at them both and leaped back into the thick of things, her striped tail lashing.

“You okay?” Sootfur asked again. He spat a clot of red onto the dusty earth.

Shadepool still felt dizzy, but she nodded.

“Good, because that was so mouse-brained,” Sootfur hissed, narrowing his eyes. “You're not a warrior, Shadepool - this isn't your place!”

Shadepool had no desire to protest anymore. He was right - learning to use one's claws was nothing compared to actually doing it, actually hurting another cat. It just wasn't something that she could stomach doing - the idea of tearing off a bit of a cat’s ear had her feeling nauseous. She turned and began heading up the rocks.

“I'm right behind you!” Sootfur called.

The rocks were slick with dew, and Shadepool found it hard to keep her grip - challenging but not impossible. Her experience using this path and her memories of traversing the Tribe's mountain trails served her well, and it was nothing like her death-defying flight over the stepping-stones. The echo of battle, the screeches of friend and foe alike, slowly drifted into the background as she climbed.

Shadepool had made it up about halfway before she heard Sorreltail shriek from above, a horrible, gut-wrenching sound: “Sootfur, look out!”

Balancing carefully on the rocks, Shadepool turned to look down. Sootfur had been just behind her - at least, before Tornear and Webfoot, back for revenge, had hooked their claws into his flanks and dragged him down to the camp floor. The uncomfortable screech of his claws raking against the rocks rang in Shadepool's ears.

She felt herself fill up with horror. Sootfur disappeared under the two warriors, with only his frantically lashing tail indicating his presence. She heard his yowl of shock cut off, sharp and sudden, and then his tail lay ominously still.

Shadepool’s skin prickled, and all sound fled her ears but for the ramming of her heart. She didn't think - she leaped.

Air rushed beneath her belly. Screaming, claws out, she landed flat on Webfoot's back. The old gray tom gasped in pain as Shadepool's weight brought him down to the ground on his side.

Grief and anger filled Shadepool as she clawed at the WindClan cat. Whether her blows were effective or not, she didn't know, and she didn't care. She was doing everything she could to tune out Sorreltail's desperate, horrible howling and ignore that Sootfur had not gotten up to help her.

Jaws pierced her scruff, and Shadepool felt herself pulled off Webfoot. WindClan scent clogged her nose as she was tossed onto her back. Looking up, she could see that her claws were clogged with bloody gray tabby fur - and between them, just coming into focus, was Tornear, who had her pinned with a firm paw on her chest.

“You'll pay for that,” he hissed, his teeth bared.

He raised his paw, and Shadepool closed her eyes tight. The white cat wasn't here to save her this time.

But the blow never came.

The heavy weight on her chest lifted. Shadepool opened her eyes. A lean, dark shape stood between her and Tornear - Crowflight.

“We don't kill medicine cats, Tornear,” he growled, low in his throat. His dark blue gaze raked over his Clanmates and rested solemnly on Shadepool. He murmured, “We're not ThunderClan.”

Tornear hissed at that but helped Webfoot to his paws. The two slunk away, disappearing back into the battle together.

Crowflight lashed his tail. He said nothing more before he returned to the fighting, but Shadepool knew that his harsh words had saved her life. Trembling, she thanked him under her breath as she pulled herself up onto shaking paws.

Her mate's words had not spared poor Sootfur, however. As soon as she could Shadepool scrambled to the young warrior's side. His gaze was unfocused, staring up at the sky. His claws were clogged with Webfoot and Tornear's fur, still extended as if to strike. The wound at his throat was ragged and open, the remains of him pouring out onto the stony earth.

Shadepool closed his eyes with a paw and prayed that his spirit would not be lost to the horrible shadow-cats and that his noble fathers would come and protect him.

It’s my fault, she worried. If I hadn’t tried to play warrior...

“Fox-dung, is that Sootfur?” spat a familiar voice. It was Silverstream.

Shadepool looked up from Sootfur's body and nodded soberly. Graystripe and Silverstream had Ferncloud between them. The spotted gray queen was bleeding from one of her paws, and it looked like she had torn more than one claw out.

“No,” Ferncloud whispered, a heavy grief in her voice. Her green eyes shimmered. “He was so young...”

“How could they...?” Graystripe murmured, his gaze swimming with emotion. “Oh, Soot...” Dimly, Shadepool recalled that they had shared a mother in Willowpelt - Graystripe was just the type of cat to think of the surrogate kits as his kin.

“Go up there,” Shadepool told Ferncloud, gesturing with her tail. Her voice was heavy with sorrow - she couldn’t fake being strong right now. “Brackenfur and the others will take care of you.” She glanced at Ferncloud’s paw. “Can you make it?”

Ferncloud stared up at the stone path. She nodded wordlessly.

“We'll stay with him,” Graystripe told Shadepool. He and Silverstream positioned themselves protectively beside Sootfur’s body. The big gray tom insisted, nodding up the slope, “Get yourself to safety.”

But Shadepool looked at the two of them and recognized the severity of the new injuries on their pelts. She could hear the cries of her Clanmates as they fought behind her, desperately hoping for one more blow before they were down for the count. Before they were killed, like Sootfur. They would spend their last breaths to justify their place in their new home.

If I go now, there might not be a ThunderClan left to save.

“I have to help the others,” she insisted, taking a deep, bracing breath. “I'll send the injured to you.” If ThunderClan were going to be driven out, she would do anything to keep them from dying as Sootfur had. They would live or die together as a Clan, but there would be a Clan if Shadepool had any say.

Graystripe seemed to understand. “We'll keep them safe.”

Shadepool nodded gratefully at him, thankful for his kindhearted nature and how it had always helped others. With his promise in her ears, she turned and thrust herself into the fray - not as the warrior she could never be, but the medicine cat she always was.

The battle had felt like it had gone on for a moon, but the sun had only just broken the treetops. The fighting was thick and chaotic, fur and blood flying, paws churning the soft earth to mud and stripping out the new grassy growths. From the apprentice's den to the Highledge, Shadepool could barely make out what was happening as she tried to weave her way through the nightmare.

Claws scraped her pelt from blows not meant to land on her, and she nearly tripped or rammed into more than one cat as they charged to a different spot to fight, Clanmate and WindClan both. There was some security in the fact that Crowflight had insisted medicine cats not be harmed, but that didn't stop the blows from stinging regardless. Someone could easily make a mistake, or worse, disobey.

As she moved, she felt for Nightfrost. He was farther away than he should've been if he had only just made it to ShadowClan. He must have been halfway to RiverClan by now if he hadn't stopped to rest - he was moving at a speed that would make a WindClan cat jealous.

Worry crawled up Shadepool’s spine. Had Russetstar denied him, and that’s why he was so far away? Would Leopardstar? She had promised to consider it at least. Shadepool swallowed her nerves.

Longtail was the first injury she found. The blind tom had been fighting valiantly with Brightheart near the nursery, but he was clearly overwhelmed by the clamor and claws, this being his first battle since coming out of retirement. As she escorted them through the thinnest parts of the battle, Mousefur and Spiderpaw joined them, with Mousefur wincing at every pawstep.

“You'll be okay,” Shadepool promised, leaving them with Graystripe and Silverstream. “Brackenfur will take care of you.”

Brightheart and Spiderpaw rejoined the battle, but Shadepool's work wasn't done. Snowstep was next, having taken a heavy blow to the head. He needed Graystripe's help to climb the rocky steps without falling, but Ferncloud was overjoyed that her whole family was safe atop the cliff, and Shadepool was certain Brackenfur would help Snowstep if he were concussed.

As she turned back to the battle, her heart sank. The clearing was thinning out, but not for the right reasons - she counted in her head how many cats were hiding outside the camp. As ThunderClan cats suffered more injuries, the WindClan numbers began overtaking them. If aid didn't come soon, or she didn't get her Clanmates out in time, there would soon be nothing left.

Ashfur and Rainwhisker were wrestling with Smokewillow and Tornear, near the apprentice's den. Tucked into the nursery were Cloudtail and Swiftfoot, who were savagely slashing at Whitetail and Softbreeze. Crowflight was wrestling with Cinderpelt while Spiderpaw bravely faced both Thistlepaw and Weaselpaw, baring her fangs. Bramblefur fought side-by-side with Poppyfoot near the Highledge, backing Sun and Mistyfoot up against the cliffside.

In the middle of it all was Mudstar and Tinystar.

Shadepool bristled in horror. Her father and WindClan's leader circled one another in the center of the clearing, spitting and hissing with their backs arched, uttering words she couldn’t hear over the din of fighting. The lean, skinny, scarred Mudstar versus the low-bodied, ferocious, but utterly exhausted Tinystar, whose eyes burned like pale flames. Both were panting, bleeding from more than a few of their new wounds, and both were unrelenting - Shadepool wondered if their claws had even touched another cat this whole time.

Mudstar crouched and dashed at Tinystar. Tinystar dodged to the side, slashing his claws against Mudstar's flank. Mudstar whirled on a paw, moving quick as a rabbit to strike at one of Tinystar's ears. Blood sprayed - Tinystar had a new nick in his ear to speak of.

It didn't phase him. Tinystar ducked and, swift as a snake, slid beneath Mudstar's belly. He fasted his teeth into Mudstar's injured hind leg, causing the WindClan leader to screech. His high-pitched howl of pain rattled Shadepool to her bones, bouncing off the camp’s stone walls.

The fighting paused.

Shadepool saw the small, individual skirmishes begin to drift apart. As the sun crept close to its zenith, the bloodied, injured warriors of both WindClan and ThunderClan encircled Tinystar and Mudstar, every cat watching in disturbing reverence as their leaders fought one another.

“Mudstar! Mudstar!” chanted Tornear.

Ashfur glared and yowled, “Tinystar! Tinystar!”

The other warriors took up the cheering. To Shadepool, it sounded like the stone hollow had trapped two dozen screeching crows, all clamoring for a piece of carrion at the bottom.

Tinystar and Mudstar did not seem to notice. Claws flashed, teeth gnashed, fur flew, and blood splattered the ground. The two toms weren't talking with their mouths anymore but with their fighting, and it was a sickening yet fascinating conversation. Shadepool felt like retching and wailing at every blow her father took, but she found herself surprised at how well-matched they were.

It’s like they’ve trained together! Shadepool thought, horrified.

It could not last forever: Tinystar stumbled in the mud while dodging a swipe, and Mudstar got the upper paw, grabbing Tinystar by the tail and wrestling him down, using his sheer height and weight as an advantage. Mudstar's jaws closed around Tinystar's throat, and Shadepool saw her father struggle to kick Mudstar away - until his legs fell ominously still.

Shadepool's heart leaped into her throat, threatening to choke her. No! Father!

Mudstar raised his muzzle, which was soaked in Tinystar's blood. The WindClan cats howled in victory.

A dark blur streaked from the crowd. Mistyfoot had broken from the circle and slammed into Mudstar with all her force, her blue eyes chips of shattered furious ice. She grasped Mudstar's scruff in her jaws and tossed him into the crowd as if he were a kitten. Crouching before Tinystar’s body, her entire frame trembled with unbridled rage.

ThunderClan warriors surged forward, surrounding Tinystar with their bodies. Shadepool was jostled in the crowd and pushed to the center, nearly tripping over her father's prone shape, her paws splashing in sticky blood. The smell was almost overwhelming, and Shadepool struggled not to gag with grief and disgust.

As she got to her paws again, Shadepool could see that the tight ring of ThunderClan warriors was surrounded by WindClan cats, with their lashing tails and flexing claws.

“You've done enough, Mudstar,” Mistyfoot spat, her voice thick with grief and venom. Her back was arched dangerously. “Leave us alone!”

Shadepool couldn't see Mudstar through the throng, but she could feel the hatred in his voice like icemelt down her spine: “Not until every shred of ThunderClan has been driven from the lake!”

Shadepool, heart pounding, threw herself over her father's body, ignoring the red, squishy earth beneath her paws. She prepared herself for the worst - but she would die defending Tinystar. Frantically, she tried to count all the lives he'd lost in her mind, but the number slipped away. He was still and quiet and would remain so until StarClan healed him. She prayed that he had another life to spare. If he died now, for real and for true...

She shivered. Seeing her father lose a fight terrified her deeply. He's been so weak, so tired, she thought frantically. He couldn't have fought Mudstar off for long. She couldn't help but worry that his doses of poppy seed had made him so sluggish.

She swallowed around a hard lump in her throat. Was this her fault?

Shadepool stared down at her father's body. Despite everything, he looked so peaceful right now, as if he were finally getting a good night's rest. The irony turned her stomach.

Trembling, she felt for Nightfrost. She wanted to tell him to run away, find Brackenfur and the others and flee - take them to the mountains, take them to the old forest - anywhere but here. She closed her eyes and wished the nightmare would be over.

She reached him quickly, just a heartbeat before she heard his breathless battle cry - Nightfrost had returned!

Shadepool didn't know how he'd done it so fast - he must've grown wings - but there he was, bursting through the gorse tunnel, skidding to a stop in the destroyed clearing. For a moment, it seemed like he was alone, and his solo entrance was enough to confuse the WindClan warriors for a breath - until Russetstar and Leopardstar burst in behind him, and then came their warriors, the thorn barrier shaking furiously as parts of it gave way entirely.

Soon enough, WindClan was encircled by RiverClan and ShadowClan, whose cats were fresh and full of battle fury, their claws unsheathed and eyes blazing. Nightfrost stood between Russetstar and Leopardstar, glaring at Mudstar, panting, foaming from his lips. He was trembling too hard to speak, though his gaze said all it needed to.

Mudstar bared his teeth, his gaze flickering at the sight of so many fresh reinforcements. He glared at Leopardstar and Russetstar and hissed, “You would defend these murderers?”

Russetstar stepped forward. “One Clan alone does not have the right to drive out another, and not from their own camp,” she said evenly. “There has been no proof that ThunderClan has done as you claimed, Mudstar.”

Leopardstar spoke next: “And until such a time comes that we must make that decision, you are to leave ThunderClan alone - or face all our wrath!”

There was silence for a long moment, then a chorus of birds erupted somewhere in the forest. Mudstar stared at his new enemies, and Shadepool could only imagine his rage. Oddly, she pitied him. He wanted justice for those he and his Clan had lost, but Shadepool knew he would not find that here, even if he still refused to see it.

Finally, he hissed, “You win, but only for now.” He raised his tail. He turned and glared back at the ThunderClan warriors - at Mistyfoot most of all. “Cross our border beyond a full moon's light if you dare. You will die for it.” He raised his bloodstained muzzle and howled, “WindClan - retreat!”

And they did - as quickly as they had come, they picked themselves up and left, passing through the massive holes in the thorn barrier made by RiverClan and ShadowClan. Leopardstar flicked her tail, and several of her warriors broke rank to follow, bodies low and tails flicking. Russetstar's patrol did the same at a dip from her muzzle.

Shadepool felt warm breath on her leg. She looked down and saw that Tinystar's eyes had opened.

He coughed, fighting for breath. Shadepool moved off of him, her heart full to bursting at the sight of his bright, open eyes. She inspected him quickly - the wound at his throat had closed, but the others remained. It mattered little. Her father was alive! They had lost poor Sootfur, but, thank StarClan, not Tinystar as well.

“Tinystar!” breathed Cloudtail.

“Thank StarClan!” muttered Swiftfoot.

Graystripe sighed as he staggered back into the crowd. “It’d take more than some ornery WindClan cat to take him down!” he chuckled.

The rest of ThunderClan murmured in relief, and they had the good sense not to crowd their leader as he recovered. Shadepool was grateful for that. She lifted her chin and locked eyes with Mistyfoot, who stared at Tinystar with undisguised joy, even as Nightfrost fretted over her new injuries. Shadepool did not doubt that Mistyfoot would’ve died to protect her father.

“What happened?” Tinystar croaked, trying to move. “I remember Mudstar, and then...”

Shadepool crouched down beside her father and buried her face into his fur. She would have wept if she had the energy, but instead, she settled for breathing in his warm, comforting scent, which was tinged with the cold frost of StarClan’s hunting grounds.

Thank you, she told her warrior ancestors. Oh, thank you! She had almost lost everything and everyone she loved today. Brackenfur was right - regardless of her crimes, StarClan still heard her pleas.

“Nightfrost returned,” she explained after taking a moment to breathe. “He brought Leopardstar and Russetstar!” She gasped with gratitude. “They drove him off. Mudstar is gone - the battle is over!”

Her father managed to sit up, his body twitching with sleep. “Is it, now?” Tinystar whispered, his gaze flickering across the clearing.

“Not quite.” Russetstar's meow was cold and stoic. She stared down at them with pale eyes as the crowd of cats parted around her and Leopardstar, the ThunderClan warriors milling uncertainly.

Leopardstar rasped, “Tinystar, we need to talk. Now.”

#tb au #tb twilight #tw violence #tw animal death

7 notes · View notes