#in the forest she grew fangs

[fairytale-poll]

ROUND 1B! MATCH 1 OUT OF 8

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Little Red Ridinghood:

Aside from giving her several good songs, the plot of the musical explores the lessons she takes away from her adventure and continues past her "Happily Ever After." Her new found maturity is represented by her giving away her riding hood and replacing it with the pelt of the big bad wolf. (And she begins carrying a cartoonishly large knife for self defense.)

She wears the Wolf's fur as a coat after her grandma kills him. She gives her cloak to the Baker to help him. She's a badass. She's only a kid. She taunts Jack into going up the beanstalk again.

She's just a feral child tbh. One of her lines in THE VERY FIRST SONG, delivered totally casually, is "into the woods, to bring some bread to granny who is sick in bed! Never can tell what lies ahead, for all that I know, she's already dead!" Everyone else gets a major life change by the end of Act I - Cinderella goes from being a maid to a princess, the baker and his wife have a child, and Jack goes from being poor to being rich - and Little Red just goes from being a feral child to being a feral child WITH A KNIFE, which she constantly brandishes in Act II! And she gets a cool wolfskin cloak to boot. She also goes through Trauma and Losing Her Family in Act II. Poor meowmeow. She has a sweet tooth too and on the way to Granny's house she eats half the loaf of bread and all of the MANY sweets she has in her basket... so silly. She also has AUTISTIC SWAG!! Constantly misses social cues, super bouncy and excited! Basically she's just the ultimate scrunkly and you should all vote for her

She’s so cool and sings cool songs :)

(Spoilers) Bratty little girl who has no value of life in Act 1, forced to reckon with the consequences of everyone's selfish actions as a mourning and vengeful Giantess widow tears through the land in Act 2.

The most iconic little shit. I love her. Has a knife and laughs while threatening people off with it. Allowed to be more than just naïve. 10/10.

the movie is SO SUCKS and she is SO BADASS i love her. please please i'm begging you use the stage musical version instead of the movie

SHES SO GREAT like ohmygod first of all she’s written in such a real way? like she’s not completely helpless just cause she’s a little girl but she’s also not a cold unfeeling girlboss just cause she has a knife (unless you’re watching the movie but the movie sucks). she acts like a kid would really act in these situations. it’s a little depressing to think about cause it’s so widespread for media not to do this, but for all the shallow, surface level girlbossery in modern media, it’s refreshing to see that sondheim treated the women in his art like people. they didn’t have to be held to any sort of standard just by nature of being women. they are just themselves.

She's got really awesome songs + she's just a hungry little girl who wants some food and also to go see her grandmother. We get to see her process grief and learn how to be on her own and then we get to see her learn that she doesn't have to be alone because "no one is alone". We see her grow from a naive little girl to a girl who lashes out at everything so she doesn't end up in danger again into a girl who wants to look out for and be there for people because they are alone just like she was and she doesn't want them to have to feel like she did. Also she has a knife and she's not afraid to use it. Her first cape is somewhat magical and is used in a potion to reverse a curse and give this couple a baby and then her second cape is really cool and made out of the skins of the wolf. She group effort helped kill a giant through gaslighting, gatekeeping, and girlbossing. (and also in my opinion the wolf-grandma-little red cottage scene is one of if not the funniest scenes in the show) [also Into the Woods is amazing & I love it & my best friend played little red]

Tweenage girl with a lot of anger. There is no stronger force on this earth

she's classic little red but she's a lot more cool she got a knife from her grandmother after the wolf incident and she wears the skin of the wolf she also interacts with other fairy tale characters and uhm she's very much a little girl with a knife she's perfect

Jenny:

Jenny is a character who, despite functioning as little red riding hood in the play, has a massive amount of development aside from that. Also: in the end, she goes from playing Red to taking over the role of the Wolf from its previous owner. The play is really cool and I love her character and I'd give you more info on her if I wasn't about to pass out

[nvuy]

poor provincial town — il capitano

summary. your father disappears suddenly, so you set off in search, and discover something much worse than the monsters you were warned about in your quiet little village.

notes. nvuy actually writing something holy shit we lost. it’s a beauty and the beast spin off. i want this man so badly i will trudge across the sahara desert just to lick off his sweat to cure my unbridled thirst.

warnings. 16+, mature themes, you can interpret capitano as yandere but he’s also implied to not be human (riding on the draconic capitano headcanons here) so in general he’s just a weirdo, he’s probably ooc because yeah, gn reader (any usage of the word ‘man’ is just another word for ‘human’), mentions of violence, threatening, violent threats can also be interpreted as sexy i guess, mentions of death, AU sort of because beauty and the beast spin off.

Your father had gone missing.

The news had shaken you to your core, and despite the wrangling on from the poor terrible and boring provincial town that you hailed from, you planned to set out almost immediately in search of him.

The people had warned you of wolves in the forest, flesh eating bugs that crawled in the winter snow, and men with pointy sharp teeth and large claws that could slice you to ribbons. All horror stories from children’s books; the same nightmares you had when you were little. Raging beasts within the trees to make sense of the shadows that moved strangely in the night.

You were warned, denied, almost locked away in your home for protection. But, you moved. You set out, for your father was already old and frail as he was. You couldn’t imagine him being lost to the woods. Not your father. He was wiser than to step out by himself, and especially so deep within the trees.

“It does not make sense for you to venture by yourself. Trekking through the woods is not for people such as you.” The older lady of the town library told you one day. “What lies out there… I could not tell you.”

You took the book from her hands and pressed your fingers into the hard cover. Your nails left a permanent dint in the laminate. “I do not fear death.”

“Not death,” she corrected. “Death is not what lingers.” She then glanced up at the ceiling, thoughtful. “Death is beautiful. What you should be afraid of are people.” She looked back down at you before a sad grin grew onto her lips. “Speak not to strangers, for you may provide dinner for the beasts that roam the woods.”

She did say beasts, you know. Monsters with fangs and fur and hooves that knew nothing but to bite and eat, eat, eat.

But there are various sorts of beasts. Charming, handsome quiet beasts. Kind and polite and patient.

“It is the gentle beasts that are the most dangerous of all.” The older lady sighed deeply, perturbed. She fidgeted in her seat behind the counter. “If you do leave, bring a weapon.”

You cannot fight, though you did pocket a small dagger.

And then you set off. Through the woods, down hills, across rivers, trying to piece together a narrative as to why your father had disappeared. It was winter — though, it did always snow here — and the winds were much more biting than usual. Thankfully, you had brought layers, and the thick hood that wrapped over your head did its job in banishing most of the cold.

It did not stop the lingering gazes of the creatures that crept along the trees, and lingered within the shadows.

You are soaked in snow and wind and cold, but you press on.

You eventually stumbled upon a castle. A grand one, with cracked and broken windows, thorny leafless bushes that surround the forked fencing, and a door so giant your hand can barely wrap around the handle. It is the only source of shelter for miles.

He must be here. Your father was ill. He needed a roof to sleep under. And possibly, despite its state, the castle could have food hidden away if looked for thoroughly.

You push open the doors, wincing from the loud creaking that alerts your presence to anyone residing inside. It looks abandoned. The once polished floors and mangled and ruined, and it a single candle flickers with life. The chandelier sits on the floor, smashed to pieces, and glass spills from every corner.

It is dark, and cold, but it is shelter.

So, you search.

High and low, wandering through the endless halls, trying to trace your steps. You search upstairs first. There are many levels, perhaps maybe five or six, and as you look, you find different rooms. Grand empty ballrooms, bathrooms that once had plated gold edging to every corner and crevice, bedrooms with torn sheets and broken wardrobes. Most rooms were empty — you cannot imagine being able to fill every single one.

Then, you search downstairs. You hadn’t wanted to go below the ground, but your father did not answer to any hushed whisper you called, and you were beginning to lose hope.

The deeper you go, the more you feel trapped.

There are cellars down here, and they stretch on beyond what your eye can see.

The cellars are dark and twisted and cold. It smells of mildew and mould, and every step you take emits a splash from the puddles. The walls are brick and cracked and covered in moss so old it has turned black with time. There are no little white flowers along the vines.

You step further along the wet stone, feeling along the wall blindly. Your nails scrape along, and you try to even your breathing. It’s cold. It’s cold. Frost and snow still clings to your clothes.

That’s when you spot your father rotting away in a cell, and you quickly take his hands through the bars. He’s frail and older now, and so much sicker from being locked away for so long.

You cry out pathetically when he struggles to curl his fingers around yours. Frostbite has taken the tips, and his skin has morphed to an ugly purple and black.

“You shouldn’t have looked for me,” he tells you. Then, he glances down the dark hall. He cannot see anything, for shadows linger across the walls like spiders crawling upon silvery silken webbing, but he knows there is something out there. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

You dismiss his concern. “You’re freezing.” You squeeze your hands tight over his thin skin before you shed off your hood and hand it to him through the bars. “Who did this to you?”

“You need to leave,” your father pleads.

“‘Leave?’” you echo. You try to see through what little light there is for a keyhole. You do not have a key, but the iron is rusted and weak, and you’re sure you can find something to smash the door through with. “I cannot leave. Not without you.”

You search around. You try to steady your racing heart, breathing deeply through your nose. Fog passes from your lips with each breath. Water drips from somewhere, and the constant ticking and creaking of the old bricks make you nervous.

You’re concerned the entire floor will collapse, so you work quick.

The cellars are empty and abandoned. Most of the doors are open, and there’s no keys in sight. There are no weapons, either, nor any long poles to smash the door down.

You panic.

It’s hopeless.

This place is completely empty.

You turn back to your father and try weakly pulling at the door. It does not budge. “Who locked you in here?”

“A beast,” he replies. It is said in a whisper, as if he’s afraid of even uttering the word. “It tore me off my path and brought me here.”

But beasts can’t be real. They’re just fairytales; stories your mother told you when you were little so you wouldn’t wander off by yourself. “Did it hurt you?”

“No. Not yet.” He glances down the hall again. “But it may hurt you.”

“I am not leaving without you. I have searched for days.” You stand up to search for something again, but you know deep down it is futile.

There is nothing.

There’s nothing here.

You want to weep, but that will not help.

It’s hopeless. It’s all so twisted and horrific. There is no beast here. There cannot be. You would have stumbled upon it by now. It would have sliced you to ribbons by now. It would have locked you away with your father by now.

“Listen to me,” your father whispers. “Return to the village and call for the soldiers.”

You shake your head.

“They will not listen to me. They think I’m crazy.” And they do. You briskly wipe at your tears and kneel down in front of the bars again. Then, helplessly you bash at the bars, and the sound echoes down the halls. “How do I get you out?”

Your father tries to quiet your sobbing. “Go back to the village. Find General Zasha, speak with the soldiers.” He grabs your hands through the bars. “The General will listen to you.”

“He will not.”

“He will.” Your father nods once, confident. “I know a man in love when I see it.” Your father kisses your knuckles once before he lets go. “I will be alright.”

He will not be, but you stumble to your feet and back away from the cellars.

And then you leave. You say not a parting word to your father. You pray and hope he remains alive for another few days. You can do nothing else but trek back up the stairs and return to the main halls.

You know they must have been beautiful once. Now everything is old and withered and etched away.

In another world, another life, just maybe, you would have loved to roam the halls of a castle and spoiled endlessly.

You walk slowly, beaten down, cold and alone. Your bones ache with exhaustion, but you will not rest here. You are determined to return to the village and speak to the general, even if you despise him with every inch of your heart.

Your hand reaches for the door handle.

“What’s this?”

And then there is a blade at your throat.

“Another thief roaming my halls?”

You swallow, but all that does is press the blade further into your skin. The discomfort sends you into a panic, and your breathing stutters. Your hand remains wrapped around the handle, but you cannot will yourself to move.

Escape is futile.

You should not have come here.

The blade is removed swiftly. So swiftly that the sharp end glides along your throat and leaves a shallow cut. It stings, and you try not to cry out in fear. Sweat pools down your neck and twists into the new cut. You hiss silently at the pain.

“What did you steal?”

You do not turn around. “Nothing. I am no thief.”

“Then you know the man I locked away.” His voice is deep, and it echoes in the hall. “Otherwise, you would never have come at all.”

You turn slowly, aware he is still armed.

It is a sword he holds, though it is hidden away beneath a large feathered and fur coat that rests upon his shoulders. Long black hair falls from beneath a mask that covers his face, and the shadows below disguise his skin, and anything that can identify him.

He is taller than you. Much taller, and much bigger. You cannot fight him.

“Why did you lock away my father?”

“Your father is a thief,” he replies easily. “And thieves remain thieves until they rot.”

There is no noise. It is just you, and him, and the constant dripping of water from your hair.

“My father is not a thief, beast,” you argue. “You are locking away a sick man.”

“I am no beast,” he denies. “I am man.”

“A man with a blade is no different to a beast.” He must be a beast. There is no reason as to why he would reside in a place such as this. “I will bring back an army.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure you will.” It sounds condescending, and you scrunch your face up when he leans down to scrutinise you. “That is if you can leave my grounds alive.”

“You will die before you lay a hand on me.”

You pull out the dagger residing in your pocket. It is a desperate attempt to create space between you, but the knife only manages to garner a simple tilt of his head.

It’s small, barely deadly, but if angled right, you could take out an eye. But the thought of that makes you crumble; you don’t fight.

The man simply tuts. “You are not even worth a chance to spar.” He simply plucks the weapon from your hands. “How you survived out there is both a mystery and a miracle.”

“I am not weak,” you say. You don’t feel it’s true.

“Stubborn. You are stubborn.”

Your finger twitches in frustration. “Free my father from his cell.”

“Bring your army,” he answers. “It has been a while since I’ve been faced with a challenge.”

“You will lose your head before you even unsheathe your weapon.” You’re not sure if it’s true, but you have to trust yourself. Just this once. “You cannot take on one hundred men.”

“I have once. I will do it again.”

“I will be honoured to have your severed head hanging as decoration in my bedroom,” you sneer. “You will not win this. Your arrogance will be your downfall.” You try to twist and make for the door again, but he holds steady on your wrist. “Unhand me.”

The man, or the beast, or whatever he is, does not falter.

“You are small. Whatever army you bring will be smaller.” He pulls once at your wrist and that silences your struggling. It hurts and stings in warning. “Puny. Is this the best you can do? What if you were to run into a real beast?”

“Let go of me!” you try.

His grip tightens. You fear your bones will snap into pieces. You’re unsure if the skin beneath his gloves belongs to a man or a beast. The tips are sharpened and metallic, and you’re sure they can pierce into your flesh.

He leans in close. Too close.

Close enough you can barely identify the outline of lips drowned out by the shadows that swamp his features. A big man, much too big for you, and he terrifies you beyond your nightmares.

You will dream of him.

Terribly.

“Let go of me,” you plead quietly.

“Let us strike a deal,” he whispers.

“I will make no deals with any man,” you defy.

You see a smile and a flash of sharp teeth.

“I am no man, nor beast,” he responds. “Send your men. Send one thousand. Send every man that has ever walked this plain.” He grabs you even tighter, and if the mask did not obstruct his face, your lips would have touched his, and the scar that runs across the vermillion. You share his breath, and you smell blood and ash. “I will kill them all.”

You feel he tells the truth.

Still, you insist. “You will die.”

“If I do so perish, then the wager is in your favour. Have whatever you wish from this place. Destroy it, restore it, it is yours.”

You want to tell him you do not want this terrible castle. You want your father home, but you are aware he knows this. You open your mouth to speak, but a hand abandons one of your wrists to grab your face and squeeze just enough to keep you quiet.

His claws press into your flesh. You try to wretch yourself free and rake your nails down his arm.

“And if I kill every man you send, I will return your father.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“I will have you instead.” He twists you further towards him, and your lips touch. “I will decorate these halls with the heads of every man of your village, and I will ruin you.”

That is a promise. You know it is. You can tell from how he whispers it, and how his grip has slackened into something more gentle than it was before.

“You cannot–” Nothing comes forth from your lips.

“I can.” He lets go of your other wrist and twists his claws into your hair. “It has been so long since I have tasted the flesh on mortal bone.”

The man, whatever he is, releases you finally, and you startle backwards against the door. Blindly, you feel for the handle behind you, trying to keep your breathing even as you finally grip onto the cold metal.

The door swings open behind you and you step outside of the castle. The cold hits you instantly, and you double over in the icy strong winds. You abandoned your hood to your father, and have nothing to shield your eyes. They sting with tears and snow.

Something drapes over your shoulders, heavy and warm.

It’s a coat. The same feathered and furred coat, though it is not laid onto you out of concern or politeness. It is possession, and complete control, ownership when the beast grasps your chin from behind you one last time.

You stare out in fear into the forest ahead.

“Flee, little one.” You feel his lips on your ear. “Time slips away as the clock ticks forward. The world will stop for you, if I so choose it to wait.”

He is warm. Warm against your back, and it provides temporary, ill-fitting relief into your skin.

“I await your return, blade honed, and hungering for your skin.”

You slip from his grasp. “If I don’t return?”

“Your father will draw his final breaths in my cellar,” he tells you, “and once he does, I will chase you to the ends of the earth to deliver the good news.”

[colourstreakgryffin]

*holds hands out for alms*

Reincarnation content where wife!s/o of Muzan who cared and loved him during his sickly heian days (who died either natural causes / accident, and he didn't get to appreciate her enough and is kind of an a-hole at that time) reborn as a hashira? And he stumbles upon her?

*coughs aggressively* i need bittersweet pining Muzan to cure my desperation

Wooowwww! I like this idea so much! This is actually very cool and I absolutely love this! Once again, thank you all for this incredible concepts! Muzan is quite the common powerhouse for this blog so let’s give him more attention

Kibutsuji Muzan- Loop-Around

Muzan knows those eyes too well… those beautiful, colourful eyes on a woman so pretty and loving. The flashbacks, the memories, the tragedy and the anger he feels over his past. Over his own failure and his own mistakes over what he did during Heian Era, during his life as a human. Those awful, painful drawn-out days where all he could do was sit in a bed and watch people come in and out of his room

The person who arrived the most was his assigned wife, Dokusha. A kind, patient, sophisticated woman of wealth, and she always spent so much time to take care of and love Muzan, all whilst looking around for the right medicine to cure his terminal illness. Muzan, during this time, couldn’t care less for that woman. She was just a useful tool to make him comfortable, feel validated and save his life but through the weeks, as he grew even weaker, he got real tired of waiting to be rescued by so many incompetents.

When he gotten given a type of medicine that worked, that odd concoction from a rather viable doctor you had bought in for Muzan, and when it shaped him into the first ever demon. He could finally walk for the first time in his life

And he walked out of that room… in perfect health, with razor sharp fangs, with a blood-thirst for human flesh, with his muscles clenching and strong. However, as he explored. He ended up finding something else as tragic as what he caused to his rescuer. His assigned wife mauled to death by wild Ussuri Brown bears in the forest, all whilst clearly trying to find absolutely any medicinal herbs that could possibly do anything to save Muzan

Muzan never really appreciated nor cared for Dokusha, he didn’t see her as much of a person and whilst he looked at the mangled body of that woman… he felt… almost nothing. It wasn’t disgust but it also wasn’t anger, it was just… emptiness and after that day. He suspected he would never see a human woman named Dokusha ever again, foolishly unaware of the fact he truly did love Dokusha and truly did feel a deep pit of misery-fuelled fury at her death. She did so much for him and he did nothing for her

Even after learning the fatal accident that caused her death was entirely centred around trying to recover Muzan from his birth sickness

Currently as the high and mighty Demon King, the first ever Demon in existence. Kibutsuji Muzan, has been confronted by the newest Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps in Asakusa, the Tashio Era when walking back to his ‘family’, and she has the eyes and the voice of his real wife. 10,000 years after her death, she’s back in a entirely new form and just knowing his dead wife has been reincarnated as his moral enemy is making Muzan’s undead heart throb in pain and outrage. Why does he feel this way looking into this Hashira’s eyes?

10,000 years after her death and now, Muzan has finally realised he has missed his wife so bad that he has grown desperate to see her again. He never noticed it, he always thought about locating the Blue Spider Lily and spreading over his ‘gift’ of demonicism around to every human he can find to gain the power he desires, to concur the Sun. Now, he notices how aggressive he is over the idea of love and how he is so repulsed by the six other wives he has pretended to marry throughout his life

Muzan stayed silent, blood red slit-pupiled eyes glaring at his reborn Hashira wife, taking in her features to every corner and constantly seeing glimpses and flashes of her original self… she’s so beautiful and he didn’t even notice how beautiful Dokusha actually was. How she didn’t deserve to die for his sake, if he could, he’d have ordered Dokusha to stay with him when she left upon calling that doctor in, as to save her life so then, he could have turned her into an demon too

Made her his Queen of Demons but no… he failed and now, he is beyond bittersweet. Pining, angry at his own blindness, upset he let the only woman who actually genuinely cared about him go… if he could reverse time, he would

Muzan, now, cannot bring himself to be the cause of his wife’s death once more… he can’t. He’ll just have to figure out another way to get her back, all without hurting her so before Dokusha could even think to begin attacking the Demon King with all the strength she has within that branded Nichirin Katana. Muzan fades away into the pitch black night, his glowing red eyes providing the only semblance of light for him when he retreats from that Hashira and those magnificent eyes, disappearing several streets down from her in a way she can’t track him down

He loves her

He knows he loves his wife and he can’t believe he had to wait for 10,000 years to recognise the mere fact that he did love Dokusha. Even if he didn’t know her enough to even call her a friend, her optimistic compassionate nature and the right to admire that personality was drowned out by Muzan’s own bitterness and desire to remain alive. He messed up royally with the first Dokusha, he won’t mess up with the second Dokusha

And he will make her his queen… even if it includes spending hours following the Ice Hashira around. He’ll do it and he already has a plan devised in his mind. He won’t hesitate to find some method to transform into a powerful immortal being like himself

All because he wants you back so bad

[clanborn]

Origins of the Bay Clans: Stone and the Lynx (Part 2)

The tracks led inland, further than the cats of Stone’s little clan had yet dared to travel. She followed the river upstream, skirting the thrashing current as it threw itself against the banks. The forest grew denser, the hemlocks thicker, the sharp peaks of the mountains taller, casting the valley in deep shadow. All was silent but the river, and the sound of strange, buzzing bird calls that rang eerily through the trees. Though her heart trembled, Stone trekked on, her pawsteps guided by purpose and the tracks that still sat unmistakable in the mud.

Stone had never followed a river to its origin, had never even thought of it as a possibility. Water–rivers, oceans, rains–lived outside the boundaries of a lifespan, within birth and death. Rivers weren’t something that just began, or ended, they simply cycled–at least, that’s what she had believed. 

After hours spent unceasingly hiking through the valley, Stone emerged from the edge of the treeline. The pebbled ground spread flat in front of her, before abruptly spiking upward to form the range of mountains. Two peaks pierced the sky, and nestled between them was a landform unlike anything Stone had ever seen. The river rushed forward from the base of a giant white slope, a crystalline mass carved deep with blue crevices. 

The wall shone like a piece of the moon itself, bleeding into the valley, its essence spilling into the forest before winding its way to the Bay. As Stone drew closer, she realized with a shock that the structure was made of ice, frozen solid despite the warmth of late spring.

She halted at the river’s edge, looking upon the structure in wonder. Was the moon made of ice? Had a shard of it fallen from the heavens upon the mountains? What else could create a fortress so massive, so imposing yet nurturing, whose icy waters fed the land and the bay?

These questions swam through her mind, but she tossed them to the side with a flick of her ears. For now, the answers were unknowable, and she must remain focused on her task.

She shook out her pelt and continued her path: the ground now had turned to gravel, and she tracked by scent instead of footprints. The slope turned steep, then rocky, a gray mountain face broken only by patches of unmelted snow and determined shrubs. Below her, the mass of ice gleamed, stretching out beyond the peaks like a blinding white sea. 

As she continued along the mountainside, she noticed an opening in the cliff face, a dark entrance where the ice field met the mountain. She quickened her pace until she reached the cave entrance, standing on the barrier of darkness. Here, the scent she was tracking hung in the air, strong as ever, leading her into the blackness. She slipped into the cave without a second thought

Inside was a large cave, and she quickly crossed the open stretch of ground to the back, where a darker shadow lay. A tunnel.

Curiosity drove her forward, driving away any fear she might have felt. Down into the tunnel she tread, deeper and deeper into the veins of the mountain. For ages she was guided by scent alone, and the narrow tunnel walls pressing on all sides. An eternity of darkness. 

Finally, Stone saw light, a blue glow that softly spilled into the end of the tunnel. Her footsteps quickened, and the cat entered into a cavern. Her breath hitched as she stepped into the light, awed by the sight before her. A medium sized cave rose around her, walls of smooth, layered stone arcing above her. The stone was washed with blue, for one wall was made not of rock, but entirely of ice. It was a deep, rich blue, as sunlight filtered down into the fragment of icy moon.

Within the ice wall’s bubbles and cracks hung an even stranger sight. A giant skeleton, ancient and fragmented, was trapped frozen in the ice, the remains of a creature Stone had never seen before. Though it’s thick bones and long, curved fangs were utterly unfamiliar, something in Stone knew it had once called itself catkin. A forgotten ancestor.

In front of the ice, sitting still and gray as the rocks around it, was a towering feline silhouette, its tufted ears outlined by the cold light. Stone’s fellow, wild catkin cousin. The Lynx.

The Lynx turned its gaze towards her slowly, expectantly, like it had known about her presence even before she did. Stone approached it, wary. 

“I admire your tenacity, cat” Its voice was a gravelly purr. “I thought you’d stop at the treeline.”

Stone skirted the wall carefully, keeping several pawsteps of distance between her and the creature. “Why did you assume that?”

The Lynx wrinkled its nose in a wry smirk. “Well, look at you. You’re an imitation of a cat. This wilderness is unfit for your kind.”

Stone flattened her ears, attempting to keep her voice level. “What exactly do you mean?”

“You call yourselves ‘cats’, yet your kind feeds by human hands. You have grown small and thin-furred, distant from your nobler origins. You can only survive in little packs, reliant on the work of others, unable to face nature with your own merit—A true ‘cat’ walks in solitude, you know nothing of the sort.”

Stone looked beyond the Lynx to the ice wall behind it, where the massive bones of their great ancestor lay suspended in time. “You say my kind has fallen, but have yours not? Have you not also grown smaller than this god, your fangs short, your bones thin? It too lived in solitude, yet here it lies, dead, its life unremembered by its catkin. You mock my community, but we have lived this long despite this lands’ harshness, and will continue to do so.”

The Lynx’s smug expression faded, and its gaze grew intense as it stared at Stone. “Even gods die, housecat. The only thing life guarantees is an ending.” It curled its lip. “Your ‘community’ is not exempt from this.”

Stone met its eyes, unwavering. “If we are catkin, what bars me from the same powers you possess? Surely I can learn to survive by your means, surely I can find access to your blessings.”

The Lynx almost laughed, but the scoff caught in its throat. It narrowed its eyes, suddenly thoughtful, the smirk creeping back up its muzzle.

“Maybe I can offer you a taste of godhood, little cat. The lives of my predecessors run through me, from the tip of my tail through all ten of my claws.” The deity sat back on its haunches and held up its massive paws in demonstration. For a brief moment, its claws twinkled with a faint light, like stars plucked straight from the sky.

“One of these is mine, of course. But I have nine to spare.” It tilted its head down at her, its fangs gleaming in the blue cavern light. “Provided I deem you worthy of them.”

Stone raised her head in challenge. “What would make me worthy?”

The Lynx paused to consider, eyeing her up and down. 

“To you alone I will grant these lives, thus you alone must face me.” The lynx narrowed its eyes. “Prove to me your will and strength, and defeat me in battle. If I submit, I grant you these lives, and the chance to explore this bay with greater distance between death and yourself.”

“Your loss, of course, will cost you your life.” It dipped its head towards her. “Is it a deal?”

Stone paused, hesitant, her heart fluttering in her chest. How could she face this creature in her state, small in stature, weary from her climb, completely alone? Despite her apprehension, her curiosity was stronger. There was only one chance for an opportunity like this, and even if she declined, what would stop the Lynx from killing her anyway?.

She nodded once. “I accept your terms.”

The lynx nodded back. Its fangs flashed. It stretched its claws. 

They leapt into battle.

Stone was swift, but the Lynx was strong and skilled. It battered her with massive paws, slamming her into the cold rocky floor. Stone dodged and weaved through its attacks, but the cavern was small, and every leap Stone made seemed to send her into another faceful of claws.

Her opponent threw a powerful swipe, tossing her against the ice wall with a thud. Back against the blue glow, Stone crouched low, struggling to catch her breath. Her strength was waning, and Stone knew with every moment her chances of victory grew slimmer. Her paws shook slightly. The Lynx had noticed her waver, and began to pad towards with calm, sure steps. It smiled–it was eager to finish her off. How could she win this?

She thought of the cats–the clan–she had left behind, who likely waited anxiously for their wayward leader’s return. Would they falter without her guidance? Would the glimmer of hope she had lit in their hearts snuff out with fear? If only she could lead them to the majestic moon glacier, show them the ethereal ancient glow of the blue cave, renew their spirits with wonder at the wilderness they were trapped in. Stone suddenly stiffened, steeling herself as she lifted her gaze back toward her foe. Though she fought alone in the cavern, her mind conjured the presence of her clan behind her. She would not die here. She would die among the cats she had befriended, who had banded together in their time of need. The cats she needed, who needed her to return alive.

With a burst of vigor, Stone launched herself toward the lynx’s head, her weight and confidence catching it off guard. She clung to its face, slashing its ears, her momentum sending it crashing hard into the floor. It flailed its huge paws, but Stone stood steadfast upon its chest, pressing her own paws down forcefully against its throat. Her claws dug in, blood welled up around her toes. The lynx grew more panicked, struggling wildly, its breath stuttering in strangled gasps. Stone pressed harder.

“St–Sto-”

Stone leaned close into its face. “Do you yield?”

The Lynx thrashed its head, attempting to nod frantically. “Yg-Yes!”

Stone slowly lifted her paws, releasing pressure off the creature’s throat. It gasped for air, then shoved her off its chest, throwing her to the floor. She scrambled to her paws, watching the Lynx heave. After it had caught its breath, the Lynx pressed its paw deep into the stone floor. It did so with strange power, impressing into the rock like it was mud, leaving the crisp outline of its giant pawprint. It beckoned her over. Its breath was hoarse. “Come.”

Stone approached the Lynx. She eyed it warily, nervous that it would decide to ignore the deal and kill her anyway. But it didn’t move as she stood above it, her paws settling on the edge of its pawprint, which seemed to sparkle slightly in the dim, cold light. 

The Lynx glared up at her, its cool demeanor vanished, its eyes blazing with controlled fury. “Touch your nose to the floor,” it growled. “You will receive your reward.”

Carefully, Stone dipped her head down, until her nose brushed against the floor’s icy chill. For a brief moment, all was still.

Suddenly, she was blinded by overwhelming light. The force of the glare threw her head back, and her vision was assaulted by an oppressive blur of color and noise. Images flashed in her mind, landscapes, memories, creatures she has never seen before. Each streaked by, too fast for her to fully process the scenes. Waves of emotion crashed in her, sending her reeling, thrown into a raging sea of grief and joy and fear and wonder. She felt all of time as it had crept by, millions of years of the past and future stretched out infinitely, lived all at once in a single instant. She felt everything. She felt nothing. It was the most agonizing pain she had ever experienced, swept in a flood of sheer euphoria. She knew places and beasts and times she had no name for, all lived through and known by the catkin before her. It was the longest moment of her life, but as she crouched, trembling, blinking her eyes back to the sight of the blue cavern, she realized only seconds had passed.

The Lynx had stood, and had begun moving toward the cave’s exit. It turned to look down at her, and Stone returned its gaze, panting heavily, her fur on end and buzzing with strange energy.

It was silent for a moment. “You now have eight more lives to live along with your own. More than any little cat has had before. Your blessing and your curse.” It lulled thoughtfully, its expression had settled back into its neutral stare. 

Its voice was cold, though laced with an undertone of contempt–and perhaps, Stone thought, respect. “Do not treat this victory lightly, Stone. Every day you live here will be another test, another gamble with your life. Living here is a game with no winners, and you and your fellows can only stall the march of nature for so long.” 

The lynx turned, padding toward the exit. “The gods here will meddle where they like, and though you have bested me, I can not guarantee my kin will be deterred from entertaining themselves with playthings like you.”

The god stopped in the entrance, then glanced back toward her, its face in shadow.

“Good luck, Stone. You will need it.”

It disappeared.

For a moment, Stone stood alone in the blue cavern.

She was not Stone anymore. Something had changed within her, the Lynx’s stars sat heavy in her chest, glittered on her whiskers. Just as an icy piece of the moon had fallen to the earth and become one with it, fragments of the stars had melded with her being. She was Stonestar, and her pelt glowed with the new (old?) lives that settled under her fur. 

And she was alive. More than she had ever been before. 

And it was time to return to her clan.

[cosmopoliturtle]

Red Dragon's Roost

"There was a time when Gloriosa was a forest of iron spires, overlooking a kingdom of sprawling steel. There was a time even older when it was humble woodland pastures, dotted by shrines tended to by kindly sages. 

The sages were a bridge between folk and fae, but once the fairies left these lands, it fell to the High Sage to carry those left behind. So vast was her wisdom and so gentle her hand that the people of Gloriosa couldn’t bear to lose their last link to a golden era so burned into their memories. They brought to her offerings of nectar, and she carried their love beyond natural years. 

As with all kingdoms, Springtide inevitably strolled in with fangs bared. Weald once shared peacefully became tar-laden wilds to be burned away. The warmth of the High Sage erupted into pitch, and she would see Gloriosa preserved in metal. Each time the fiends would come, the trees were felled and the towers grew skyward. Each time the soldiers fought, the furnaces roared and the streets grew quieter. 

A scholar, a hero; a myth come to an end. The High Sage let generations of nectar within her spoil and her body became bloated and malformed by tar. Now, from molten perches, she watches her fire dance, carrying the memories of a golden era forever passed."

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

Vernorexia

[kingorqueenofnarnia]

Narnia Headcanons

Queen Lucy the Valiant

Did not experience falling in love, and did not feel attracted enough to anybody to go for a casual relationship. She did pester Edmund about being in a relationship and drove him to madness— he already hated the number of suitors Susan had and thinking of people asking for Lucy made him fume even more. She took great amusement in riling him up with imaginary situations.

In Narnia, she was called Lucy the Lionheart, the Fanged Queen, the Merry Child, Queen Lucy the Healer, Lover of the People and more. She was known to be a happy person, always with a smile on her face, but also to be a lethal force in battle. She earned the name the Fanged Queen for her daggers— they were like a Lion's fangs in her skilled hands; fast, razor sharp and deadly.

Outside Narnia, she was known for her childlike smiles and her battle madness— the Child Queen, the Mad Queen, the Wild Child, Lucy the War Hungry, Bloody Lucy, the Merry Murderer and such terrifying titles. It was quite a shock for everyone who had heard her titles before meeting her, for she was nothing other than a little girl with the sweetest smile and the softest voice. Until, that is, the time for war came.

Peter's right hand when it came to battle strategy. Initially, it had been Edmund that had helped Peter, but as Lucy grew older they found she had a penchant for war, and Edmund immediately handed over the responsibilities to her to focus on the judiciary. People learnt very soon not to underestimate the 13 year old with dual daggers— she was as savage and deadly as a lion, and was not afraid to spill blood. Indeed, she was known to laugh as she killed on the battlefield.

Was the Spymaster of the espionage ring, and was extremely competent at it. She employed and trained unlikely creatures that would fly under the radar— Mice and Birds for their ability to appear dumb, Satyrs for their unassuming demeanor, Snakes for their stealth, and other small animals. It was the most successful spy organisation ever seen on the mainland.

Kept her hair short compared to the others. Went just below her shoulders, and had dozens of tiny braids following Peter's tradition. She braided white jasmines into her hair every morning for their smell, earning her the title the Crimson Jasmine after too many instances of the white flowers being drenched in her enemies' blood. When they fell out of Narnia, she had an impressive fifty-four braids— the highest out of all siblings.

Hated studying. Absolutely did not like to sit in one place poring over books for hours on end. She would rather be outside with the dryads and the satyrs, tracking the dumb animals through the forests on hunting expeditions.

Her favourite subjects were Strategy, Dancing lessons and Navigation— she was fond of sailing, and would usually accompany Edmund on his political journeys to the Islands and archipelagos. By the time she turned 16, she commanded her own fleet of warships, specifically to deal with the attacks on Narnian trade ships from pirates. She earned the title the Mad Queen for her daring and outrageous strategies to deal death on the sea.

Dancing with the Satyrs and the Dryads was her favourite passtime. If she was not on the sea and not in the archery range, she was in the forest, dancing around the fire in a circle. Her favourite dances were the Sword Dance and the fast paced Centaur's Canter.

Very often, she would assist Edmund with his ridiculous pranks. Equally often, she would blame him for her own pranks. Nobody other than the older pevensies ever believed that the sweet queen would ever prank anyone, which annoyed the three others to no end.

Playing Chess with Susan was also a treasured activity, for her. Often, the reason she came up with her outrageous battle strategies was that she had already thought of them when going up against Susan on the chessboard. Susan was a formidable opponent on the board and Lucy had to pull all the stops to defeat her. It helped when planning for actual war, and not to mention it was entertaining.

[ladymarvel27]

Dog or Corpse? | Carlando | (II)

werewolf!Carlos x reader / vampire!Lando x reader

Part 1

f1 masterlist

Warnings: Mentions of little blood, knives, cuts, fangs. Werewolf transformation?

"You're speaking metaphors, right?" She finally spoke, after a long silence. Carlos softly places his hand on his chest and sighs in relief. He sits down on the couch and takes a deep breath.

“So, are you going to tell me?” She asks.

“What?”

“Why do you hate my project partner?”

“Because he is a vampire. He is posing threat on you. And I have sworn to protect you from him. I am a werewolf and you're my mate. It’s my duty to protect you from him."

She rolls her eyes at him. “I think you have a disease, Carlos.”

“What disease?”

“Lycanthropy! Do you think you are some wolf? And-and we are mated? Gosh, Carlos! You need help!”

“Trust me, I am not lying! And that stupid friend of yours is a vampire!”

“I trust you but-” and she heard bones cracking. His clothes had started to rip and the way those bunch of hairs grew on his body; she had to look away.

A few moments later she heard a soft growling. Her skin had turned pale and her body started sweating, not the way he always made her do, but this time in fear. She slowly turned around. In his place stood a huge black wolf with the same big brown eyes she adores. He held out his paw in front of her. Her hand slowly reached for the jacket and her phone on the table. She immediately grabbed them and ran out of the apartment. Her action caught him off guard and his hand was left hanging there, waiting for her touch, his jaw hanging.

He had to follow her. It was dark outside and she must be in danger. He followed her smell and found her, lying in the middle of the forest, completely passed out, with a little scratch on her head. He must approach her in his human form, maybe she will accept him.

He slowly nudges her body. She blinks and opens her eyes. “What the hell are you, YOU MONSTER!” She immediately snaps at him. Tears blur his vision hearing these words and he takes a step back. “Hermosa please li-,”

“Stay away!” She snaps. He threw his hands in frustration.

“If I wanted to harm you, I already had done it, Mariposa!”

Her face softens as she realises.

“So do you trust me that i won't pose a threat on you?”

She tries to get up and sighs in frustration. “Yes, I trust you.”

“Let me take you home.” She nods and takes his hand to get up.

“I love you amor. I am- we are mated. And I pledge to protect you from any kind of harm.”

“Carlos,” she breathes out softly, “So are you like my guardian angel?”

“No mi amor, I am your boyfriend, your lover,” his face lit up with a smile, his cheeks blushing madly“, And I-I desire to spend the rest of my life with you, Hermosa.”

“And Lando?”

“He is a bloodsucking monster, who wants your blood. He isn’t mortal like us.”

Her eyes widened, “So he will never die?”

“He can die if we stack his heart with a silver dagger.” A dagger goes through a man’s heart even if he did nothing wrong? “NO!” She blurted out loudly.

“What?” He knitted his eyebrows in confusion with her sudden response.

“It’s wrong to kill him. We don’t have any reasons. And how you’re so sure he is a vampire?” She inquired. He shifts and takes a deep breath. “Do you want a real proof?” She nods.

Lando cheerfully greeted her as soon as she opened the door. She gracefully greeted him back and led him to their study place. He looked around, probably checking if that scary boyfriend of hers was here today.

She side-eyes his face as he settles down on one of the chairs. His skin looks paler than what is natural, Carlos had told her, like life had been drained out of him. Lando’s face looks greyish, not the natural skin colour. Seems like all his blood drained from his face. He might look like he is scared, but he isn’t, his tone conveys it. It’s just his natural colour.

After a while, she brought up snacks for them. “Whoa! These are so big,” he commented on the sandwiches. She had made them bigger intentionally. When he opens his mouth wide open to take a bite, she notices his canines. They might not look noticeably like fangs, he might have them filled up so they aren’t easily detectable, but they will be very sharp, like mine. He had told her that Vampires have longer canines which are fangs to suck the blood. Carlos did have sharp canines like a wolf, but not long like a vampire has.

“Oops! I only have one cupcake left,” she spoke looking into the contents of her refrigerator.

“It’s okay,” he smacks his hands in the air.

“No, we can share,” she brings the cupcake in a plate with a knife and place the plate on the table. “I will cut it in two halves, then we both can get it. How’s that?”

“Fine for me,” he shrugs.

She slowly brings the knife but accidentally cuts her finger as she shrieks lightly. “Oh gosh!” A small stream of blood spurs out from the tip of her finger, in the usual bright red colour.

“Are you fine?” He asks, his voice laced with concern but he has his face turned away. Finally, if he gets startled by the bleeding of natural blood and reacts unnaturally, he is for sure a vampire, Carlos' voice kept echoing in her mind.

“Hey! Look at me!” She shouts at him but he keeps looking at the floor. She lifts his chin with all her force and shouts, “LOOK AT ME!” He finally lifts his chin and growls at her, his eyes have turned darker, almost pitch black like he had been possessed, and his canines had elongated into fangs.

Taglist: @faithshouseofchaos @vivwritesfics

[femoso-seben]

Humanoid Monster

Part 1, Part 3

Laswell sighed as the delegation dragged on. Of course, neither side sent their leadership only lackeys to demand impossibilities for the others to complete. They still tasted blood in their mouth for their fallen. The human delegation was a man called Vladimir Makarov, a young Russian who led his paramilitary group in deep Siberia.

“Why should we agree to these terms?” Makarov asks, how he knew, or let alone who taught him English was beyond Laswell. Most humans don’t know more than one language. Rarely do they speak the languages of countries far away from them. Humanity is landlocked. It was a way to ensure humanity never teamed up to defeat the monsters.

“Why should we agree to your request either?” Laswell sneers her wings twitching, from her anger. She read about this man, how he slaughtered many monsters and used their pelts as decoration. He was fighting for a greater Russia, with only humans in it, abolishing any monster or hybrid in sight. A human utopia!

They were talking in circles, Switzerland’s military standing at watch ready to shoot both delegations dead if given the chance. They weren’t achieving anything here.

“Since this is a peace treaty give us the names of your task force,” Makarov asks, Laswell knew it was personal for him. 141 and he was in a long constant struggle.

“Give us the files on the Pale Death, White Fang, Angel of Death, and Hunter.” Laswell strikes back. Each one of those women caused so many problems, that they must have been resistance rebels.

Makarov pursed his lips and glared at Laswell, “We’ll give you the files for White Fang and Hunters. As for the Angel of Death, she wasn’t one of us, but as for the pale death? No, we will not.”

“Then you will only get the files on, Roach,” Laswell spoke. It seems like Makarov is only giving information on the dead so she’ll do the same. Makarov frowns.

“Deal.” They both knew a single member of Task Force 141 was far better than any human, dead or alive, all except for the Pale Death.

By the end of the meeting, they had only agreed to share files of the dead and nothing more they merely moved a single inch to the finish post. As Laswell walks out Soap, Price, Graves, and Ghost we’re waiting for her.

“Where’s Gaz?”

“Helping the Hapries to fly,” Soap rolls his eyes, “the human woman can’t even raise a harpy! They should need the least amount of training!” Price touched his shoulder silencing the Sergeant.

“What happened?” Price asks.

“Not much, I was able to get information on White Fang and Hunter,” Laswell sighed.

“Those two are fucking dead, at least get the Pale Death—”

“Their delegate is Makarov,” everyone froze and a low growl imitated from all of them.

“He’s here? That terrorist?” Ghost steps closer to Laswell.

“C’mon let’s review the files maybe their connections, sure White Fang and Pale Death worked together,” Laswell spoke up.

Jezebel reappeared and began to lead them to a place outside of the meeting point, a spacious military camp where they were staying. It was more like Switzerland wanted to watch them, making sure they didn’t unpack them negatively.

Laswell hands over the packet to Price, Ghost, Graves, and Soap. They slowly scan through the files.

White Fang:

name: Belinda Wolf

Age: 23

Height: 5’9”

Weight: 140lb

History: grew up on a resistance compound deep in Akaska forest. Grew up hunting animals to survive. Favorite targets were werewolves said they were the apex of trotted a hunter could win.

statue: KIA

The photo was of a plan-looking woman, nothing remarkable, but for Soap he felt a sense of victory over this wretch. He hunted the White Fang down and butchered her like she butchered his troops. He hated her flesh making sure she was truly dead.

Hunter:

Name: Rawiya Abadi

Age: 31

Height: 5’4”

Weight: 120 lbs

History: The daughter of a wealthy (free) man she grew up owning and hunting exotic animals. She soon turned radicalized and began to hunt down every predator species of hybrids for their pelts and horns, wanting to collect every type of monster.

Status: KIA

“We’ll these aren’t helpful.” Price grumbles.

“A bunch of psychos.” Soap drops the file onto the table.

“We’ll theirs one thing for sure,” Graves spoke up, “White Fang didn’t work together, and White Fang came after Hunter.”

“What are you insinuating?”

“Maybe their master and apprentices? After all, they share the same M.O. two hunters, maybe they did meet up but it’s not stated here.” Graves continues.

“We never found Hunter’s body, maybe Hunter set up that compound and trained up an apprentice?”

“What about mother and daughter?” Ghost brought up.

“That could be plausible,” Soap said.

“Makarov said the Angel of Death isn’t connected to the resistance forces.”

“That human is lying.” Soap sneers his sharp claws poking out.

“It could be plausible,” Ghost spoke up. “The Angel of Death was in deep monster territory, to be a resistance force is unlikely as it was hard to pick that human out of a crowd. She acted like one of the enslaved.”

“That one is most likely inspired by the resistance.” Price grunts out.

“The fact Switzerland allowed a killer like the Pale Death to live here is insane,” Soap said.

“Mother Maia… how insulting.” Graves notes, “The Pale Death working with our children?”

“I bet Maia isn’t her real name,” Soap mutters.

“Agree,” Price grunts out smoke leaking from his maw.

“Why don’t we do some recon whilst we’re here” Graves stands up, “Price you stay with Laswell, Ghost asked the young Gargoyles about their life, and I will talk to Mother Maia.”

“What are you planning?” Laswell folds her arms, “Shepard wants a smooth deal where we get our concessions.”

“I know, but something feels fishy about this place.” Graves adds, “It feels… stage.”

“Let me—“

“I want you and Gaz to watch the children, and see if their body languages give anything away.” Sops clenched his fist but nodded and sat down.

—————————— /\ ——————————

Gaz looked at the little harpies their little down feather wings gathered around him like lost chicklings looking for their mommas. He felt himself smiling at the small yet wide-eyed little owls just staring at him.

Pricilla is seventeen, and the oldest person there. She had also spent the longest time at the orphanage.

“So you’ve been an orphan this long?” Gaz asks.

“No, Mother Maia is my adopted Mother,” Gaz eyes widen.

“When did she adopt you?”

“I was eight.”

“Does she have any other kids?”

“No,” Pricilla sighs. “She cannot adopt anymore, in Switzerland only monsters can adopt monsters, same with humans. We came to Switzerland mother and daughter,” Gaz nods and looks at all the little Hapries.

“There’s so many children here,” Gaz mutters there were at least fifteen harpies of flight age.

“Many monsters abandoned their injured kids here, many of them have actual parents who don’t want them, but a small few made it here on their own… the human orphanage is way more kids.”

“Human orphanage?” Gaz questions.

“A lot of humans give up their babies because they can’t care for them, some are given up because their parents died after arriving.”

“how do you know this?”

“We all go to school together.” Gaz’s mouth drops. Humans? Monsters! Together? In school! No way!

“We’re gonna narrow their football field for this flight practice.”

“… you know this land used to not be Switzerland,” Gaz said as they walked a mile to the place.

“I know it was a part of France, right?” Pricilla answer. Gaz nod.

“We monsters don’t use the old colonial name the humans created.” Pricilla nods, she soon arrives at a school and there a few humans are playing.

“Jakob,” Pricilla calls out, a blonde boy, around Pricilla’s age wave.

“We need to barrow your football field.”

“Why?” He asks walking over to the fence of the tennis court.

“Flying practice!” Pricilla cheers.

“I’ll go tell Gramps he can turn on the lights.”

“Thank you!”

“You seem friendly with that human,” Gaz said trying not to growl at her. How could she forsake her kind and be around humans? Doesn’t she know they are destructive and cruel?

“He’s my classmate.” She bashfully said. Cold realization dawned on Gaz this young harpy like that human. He was a decent-looking boy but it made his blood boil.

By the time they reach the football field, the lights turn on.

It was going to be a long night, the sun was setting and they had a few hours to teach them. The wind picked up, his wings flared out and the older harpies watched him, eyes wide and eager to learn.

Gaz couldn’t help but smile at these small harpies taking flight, their wings clumsily flapping in the air.

Taglist: @kkaaaagt, @kaoyamamegami, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore

[partywithoutsmiling]

Some musing on the Wanderer!Branch AU

(Okay, bit of a chaotic lore dump incoming, as this is probably the first time I am putting it to words)

Okay, important info first:

I headcanon it that Branch- and thus the other Brozone bros- are half-pop half-rock in their herritage; this headcanon is an old one, ever since World Tour dropped, and honestly only supported by the fact that Total Eclipse of the Heart that Branch sung as trolling is considered a Pop Rock song XD But hey, one doesnt need to have many reasons to make headcanons pff

(I have some tentative lore about his parents- and his grandparents- too, and how that would effect Branch and his Bros growing up, but I will leave that for a separated post)

But anyway, with Branch's Pop side being moderated by his Rock side, he would have always felt a bit out of place among his tribe, even he grew up perfectly happy with no tragedy in his life (I know switching Branch's and Poppy's place when it comes to being grey is all the rage right now, but I still feel most are missing all the necessary nuance to really make it work, but lets not get into that pf)

Obviously, that feeling of not fitting it only got hundred fold worse since his PTSD and him being grey, as Pop Trolls doesn't seem to be known for mental health support. Branch eventually leaving is not him going 'Screw you all, I will find someone who appreciates me' (much like Clay did) but more of a 'I am sorry, I won't get in your way anymore, I wont be a burden'

Basically massive amount of self-loathing and severe lack of self-worth. When Branch had his final breakdown and decided to leave, I don't think it would be with the precise goal of finding anyone (yes, part of him hopes he would be able to find his brothers and at least find closure one way or another, no matter how much it terrifies him).

Honestly, Branch probably didn't dare to examine his decision to leave any closely than he needed to, lest it would stand out to him for what it really was- a suicide trip.

This was Branch that doesnt know anything about the wide, outside world; he knows Bergen Town, knows of the old Troll Tree, and now knows the Forest and their Troll Village. But everything else is uncharted territory for him. He knows of the Neverglades, because of a faint memory of John Dory constantly talking about them when he was a baby, but has only a vague sense which way they are (I headcanon they make up for the border of Pop and Rock territories)

His preparation for the trip was abysmal, and so was his plan in general. He just picked a direction- opposite of Bergen Town, away from them- and started walking. When he first encountered the towering high peaks of Classical Territory, he immediatelly recognized that they can't be the Neverglades- very much not fitting the description that he remembered, so he walked past/around them, smack dab into Country territory.

Compared to others, I don't think the Country Trolls would have been very welcoming to him at the beginning; used to hard life, inhospitable land and abundant death, Branch would be an unexpected disturbance; obviously not a Classical Troll, who borders with them the closest but never comes down from the skies, obviously not a Funk Troll, who with their technological advance might as well be myths at this point- and obviously not a Pop Troll, since he doesnt shower them with obnoxious music and doesnt even look the part.

Had he been at his 100%, they would have probably been quite content to send him packing, figuring he was just a Rock Troll going solo career (little insert headcanon: Rock Troll Rite of Passage is going on a Rock Tour, and sometimes the more adventurous Rock Trolls strays into other territories to bother and cause mayhem other trolls. Barb's Rock Tour was her Rite of Passage, and being a freshly fanged Queen, she took it to another level)

But Branch quite helpfully collapsed on their doorstep, half starving and dehydrated, and they weren't so callous as to leave him there for the elements to take care of him.

Naturally, their help hardly came for free, and even if they didn't ask, Branch would have already feel indebted to them for wasting resources on his wellbeing. A Survivalist himself, he easily spotted the tight budget they were running, and felt guilty for being a burden yet again.

To his surprise, when the country trolls found out he was a hard worker, a skilled architect and wiz engineer, they completely turned their wariness around.

It was the start of his 'finding himself' journey, but for the first time, Branch started to feel... appreciated. Yes, these trolls didn't know him- but they looked at him, looked at what he can do, and called him accomplished; they were praising his skills, and called him valuable.

(But some sense of danger remained with him; as far as he believed, 'Branch' was left behind to rot away in his bunker. So when introducing himself, and habit got better of him, he started with "Bra-" but caught himself and finished "-mble"; and that new name, 'Bramble', stuck XD Still a plant name, still close enough that he can learn to repond to it- and honestly, feels like fits him better right now, as he feel all out of sorts)

It was only the first step, maybe, but it was a step toward feeling that he had some worth.

I think, out of all the Tribes, he stays with the Country trolls for the longest; yes, the life there is hard, but that is perhaps why he feels most welcomed there. There are no useless nonsense parties, no senseless dancing- the times when they can finaly wipe their brow and relax is when the community gathers together and they just... talk. Sit around, share food, look at the stars and reminiscence.

It's all very subdued, and even though Branch is the most obvious outsider ever, he feels like one with the community, and that by itself is already healing a deep wound he didnt know he had.

When the country trolls finally start singing on their good day, Branch is rather taken aback (He forgot, that Trolls are Trolls, and Trolls sing)- but the sombre and slow melody and topic of the country speaks to him, and while he doesnt join- and they dont push him to join- he listens, and he appreicates.

It is with Country Trolls that he heals most of his trauma when it comes to music. His Grandma and his Brothers leaving him are still a big guilt that weights him down- and something he wont address for a long time- but Country trolls shows him that music can be wildly different. He still doesnt sing, but when offered to be taught to play a banjo (XD), he probably doesnt refuse- mainly out of fear of insult, but also because for the first time in his life, he wants to actually try.

As time passes, his more curious side comes out- he asks questions, wants to know everything- up to this point, he didn't even know that the Country trolls were country- and to them it was obvious what they were, so why would they need to introduce themselves?

That line of questioning leads to the explanation of the other Tribes existing, and that each Tribes' music is different.

And for the first time in his life, Branch felt something alien to him- burning Wanderlust. (Bit of his Rock herritage showing, eh? Solo Rock tour, Rite of Passage~?) The thirst for knowledge was always there- after all, his bunker had many journals filled to brim with information about what he discovered in the foods, helpful tips for survival and many plans for inventions- but those were always done out of necessity, discovered and noted down so that he could live another say. Never before he had a desire to discover simply for the sake of discovering.

Never before he also actually felt like he had the option to do so; the world has always been an inhospitable wilderness to him, only filled with a small handful of trolls and a town full of monstrous giants. His childhood was filled with memory of a large iron cage, and that trapped feeling didn't change; after all, his Bunker, for all that it offered him safety, was a different type of cage too. The whole Troll Village- Pop Village, as he learned now- was another cage as well. Gilded one, made of ignorance.

And so he knew his time with the country trolls came to an end- and it was because he grew to respect them and appreciate them, that he doesnt disappear in the nigh and haltingly tells them his decision to leave and explore.

Memories of his Brothers' argument echo through his mind as he waits for the inevitable blow up, but.... he is once again surprised when the trolls just accepts this decision and wish him all the best- going as far as to help him pack- properly this time- and wheedling out of him a promise to check in once in a while, whenever he is in the neighbourhood.

Equipped with a non outdated map, he decides to make visit all the other territories one by one, starting from Country and heading right towards Classical, going around in one large circle around Pop Territory- Going to Techno after Classical, and to Rock right after that. Funk is largely a mystery to him- the Country trolls are at this point content to believe they are just a myth- much the same way a unicorn is to us- but Branch wants to keep an open mind.

After all, he himself had no idea other kind of trolls existed, so why dismiss the Funk Troll existence right away?

His travels to Symphonyville proved to be as challenging as was the start of his trip towards Country territory. Being high in the mountains- higher than anywhere Branch ever went- really showed him that walking is easy only when the road is straight and flat.

The air growing colder and thinning, he probably doesn't make the best first impression neither- especially in his dishevelled state, he is once more mistaken for a Rock Troll, and it takes a gargantuan amount of effort to convince anyone that he is simply there to learn music, and not cause any trouble.

Out of all the Tribes, he would stay with the Classical trolls the shortest. They are strict teachers, and their culture is very frigid and traditional- and Branch knows that he would have to wildly change himself to fit among them. Yet looking around, seeing the tall spires of the buildings around him, he finds he doesn't really want to. The grandiose of everything is rather intimidating- but even if he tried his best, he would never fit well among the classical trolls, always limited by something (like his ability to fly)

And realizes that was okay. That was acceptable. And that the classical trolls knew he wasn't a good fit now, and would hardly ever be a good fit ever- but they never expected him to become someone he is not. He asked them to teach him and so teach him they will- but you cant force a white sheep to grow black wool anymore that you can force a black sheep grow white.

The moment they realize Branch is there to learn and not wreck their peace like wandering Rock Trolls tend to do, they definitelly warm up to him more- but it still with the mildest of disapprovals since compared to them, Branch looks like a scrunkly kitten and all of them are just itching to groom him properly XD

Branch himself is amazed at the variety of musical instruments that exists and very quickly finds that he is not a progidy in plaing them all pff. Wind musical instruments are most likely completely beyond him, and after some attempts gives them up for a lost cause. Percussion fairs a bit better; he definitelly has some idea how to keep a beat and a rhythm, but even there he finds playing piano the most comfortable out of them all, with drums being a close second.

It is with string instruments that he trully shines, especially those that he can play with his own hands, without the need to use a pick or a bow; a tentative hint at his connection to music, the vibrations just send shivers down his spine and makes him feel more close to the sound his playing produces. (Guitar and Harp becoming his favourite instruments from the get go).

Getting to Techno was trickier. Them living underwater makes access to their territory rather impossible- unless Branch happens to meet someone willing to cross then bridge between Land and Sea XD

It makes for a rather convenient introduction for minor genres; the land bordering Classical and Rock seems to be as the perfect land for various minor tribes to cohabit in peace.

Are there Techno Opera trolls? Siren like beings, that found their homes on the deck of boats, sailing from and to an island after island? Techno Classical that built their living on the coast line, wanting to be close to both land and sea?

In any case, Branch discovers that even with music it's not so simple as shelving it into labels, and that it is ever growing, ever evolving. He never manages to actually visit Techno Reef, but he doesnt' need to; compared to other trolls, the Techno Trolls are not insular, and quite happily come to the surface or to the coast, both to vibe with the offshoots of their genre, to discover what they came up with, but also to simply make friends and have fun.

It was the first time Branch encountered a large party not unsimilar to that of a Pop Troll one- and yet for all that the party was just as loud and wild as he was used to seeing, the sight of it didnt really fill him with uncontrollable panic. It definitelly helped it was once again more about the music and the beat itself, and about the mood of the partygoers than it was about the singing; it was about experimentation and trying out new things- and yet not every troll was dancing around like maniacs. They had the stage for sure, and large crowd was gathering there- but there were also the fringe areas and corners, where Trolls just sat and chatted and bopped to the beat. Not forced to do anything they didn't want to, simply allowed to have fun in their own way.

He doesnt really interacts with the Techno Trolls that much, beyond when there is a party happening on the surface. Gravitates more towards exploring the Minor Territory, and discovering that it holds more than just Techno Classical/Opera. Not wanting to stray too close to the border with Pop, he nevertheless encounters encounters various offshoots of Pop as well- and the K-Pop gang as well

This definitelly allows him to learnt that even the Trolls Kingdom are not free of corruption and the bounty hunters are not starving for contracts- crime does happen in the troll kingdoms, and when the local police force comes short, the bounty hunters are the next best thing to employ.

Speaking with the K-Pop gang, he learns- with a bit of unease- that there was an old contract unfulfilled, that searched for all the Brozone Brothers, and thanked his lucky stars he can in no way be connected to them. It was considered a cold one, where there was no hope among the communities of it ever being cashed in- but the knowledge someone was looking for them- specifically for the younger of the brothers (Him, Floyd and Clay) made him wonder who could it be.

(Part of him entertained that it could be John Dory)

(Other part dismissed it right away. After all, JD did specifically state 'Goodbye Forever'- why would he make the effort to employ bounty hunters to find three of his brothers, if he was even alive to do so?)

That meetings seems to set of a string of bad luck- at least, that's how he feels. Continuing down to Rock territory- of which he is most wary (after all, he was constantly being confused for one, and expected to cause mayhem and destruction- so what kind of Trolls Rock Trolls were to earn that reputation?

A very specific kind- wild and chaotic.

Compared to other Territories, no-one blinks when he just walks in and continues deeper into the Kingdom; and he can finally see why he was mistaken for a Rock Troll. Muted colours, sharp smiles and even sharper claws, it was like walking into uncanny valley, where nearly every troll wears his face. At that point, unknown to him, his colours are not completely grey and black, so he is sporting some faint hues, and very quickly learns that thanks to the direction he came from, Rock Trolls think he is from an Offshoot genre; either Punk Rock or Pop Rock (though they obviously hope for the former) They reconsider him to Folk Rock when he brings out softer tunes that he plays on a borrowed guitar; and for the first time in a while, Branch is asked to sing.

He panics, obviously- playing musical instrument is one thing, but getting over his trauma from singing is another- and quite swiftly and bluntly refuses, cringing after to wait for the inevitable "You are a Troll, why don't you sing?"

Only... it never comes. There are shrugs, and one "Cool." and then he just gets invited to an Indie Rock show, and that is that.

Completely baffled at this easy acceptance, Branch agrees out of shock, before he can trully think it through- and realizes it's the first time since he left Pop Village (at this point probably nearly two years ago) that he thinks back on its inhabitants and namely Poppy.

He feels rather guilty, for taking this long to really give them a concrete thought. Like yes, he did think of them at the beginning, when he lived with the Country trolls- but that was only in general way, comparing the different livestyles. He never really chose to think about the people he left behind.

Now, no longer blinded with grief, self-loathing and rampart paranoia, he does remember that not all adults in his life went out of their way to activelly fail him. King Peppy, for all that he was unequipped to deal with Branch's issues, tried to check up on him regularly; his Grandmother's friends or those who knew her, made it their goal to be kind, even if Branch tried to avoid them out of reminder what he caused

Hype, Trickie, Boom and Ablaze were old friends- his childhood friends- the ones he made after his brothers left, and the ones he pushed away after he went grey- and yet they still managed to be around, noticing them from a distance, even as he stopped speaking to them.

And then there was, of course, Poppy.

Just starting to mature when he left, it's not quite a crush that he feels for her (not yet anyway), but there is still some sort of appreciation for her- some part of him, that subconsciously aches at the need to be close to her, and feeling just that bit of her warmth and positivity- one that made him wistfully keep all her invitations and listen to the sound of her recorded voice.

For the first time, he wonders how they reacted to his disappearence. Wonders if they miss him- or if they curse him. If they do both- like he felt conflicted towards his brothers, the older he got and the more obvious it became that they are not coming back.

It was that thought- the comparison to his brothers- that pushed him to hesitantly think about returning back to Pop Village; to his bunker, to his old life- to Poppy.

It was a tentative thought really; truthfully, the desire was a half hearted spur of the moment, and not something he would drop everything for. He didn't miss his old life; where he was the village hermit, the outcast, the weird one. Besides, he just arrived in Rock, and he still had a whole adventure ahead of him, trying to find the Funk trolls.

And so, When in Rome, do as the Romans do- and so Branch steeled himself to attend a party, one that he was specifically invited to; after all, he had been at parties before now, within the reach of Techno Reef, it's not like this one is any different

Only it kind of felt like it- yes, the music was harsher, the beat went harder- but the harmonizing of voices reminded him so close of his own tribe that it just left him feeling jittery- and at first, yes, the party made him tense and hardly participate, but as it went on, song after song, he could feel himself slowly relax.

(Besides, there was something about rock music, that send warmth straight to the core of his being; something about it resonated with him more than any other music did, besides Pop- and where before he fought hard to not allow it to do that, perhaps, just this time, he could try the opposite)

(After all, they were underground, where Branch always felt the safest, and the Bergens had no idea other tribes even existed- he could indulge a little)

Of course, fate has a funny way of entertaining itself, and in the second of his indecisiveness, he gets bumped into and trips and falls- or he would, if pair of hands didn't steady him, and familiar voice asked him if he was okay

And Branch suddenly felt altogether three years old, getting fed empty promise and watching his older brother disappear through the entry to his Grandma's pod

And he is now in present, left staring at nearly 15 years older Floyd, his brother clearly living the best life, happily away from Pop Territory (away from Branch)

His name drops from his lips before Branch can stop himself, and that has Floy pause and squint at him- obviously not recognizing him, obviously trying to place him- before something clicks and his eyes widen and he goes pale

Branch most likely punches him- and then finds he cant stop heaving in fury and goes punch him again, not allowing Floyd a word in (honestly, he is not punching very hard, not apart from that first one)

Of course, Floyd is hardly alone, probably in a band, and his band mates are not keen on having their member be attacked by a random troll

Brawl very easily breaks out- honestly nothing new among the Rock Trolls- and ends up with all of them, especially Branch, thrown in a cell for their troubles, much to the protest of Floyd's bandmates, who curses and claims innocence

For the first time in forever, Branch feels hollowed out; yes, he had been hoping for a closure- but honestly, he had expected to find all of his brothers dead; not finding any of them living happily away, their youngest brother not even a blip of concern in their mind.

He certainly never expected it from Floyd, who essentially lived a stone throw away; who clearly was able to cross the distance it took from Bergen town to arrive in Rock troll's territory, just shy away from the Pop one.

------------------------------------------------------------ This is where I will stop the musing for now XD;

Obviously there are more things to add; Barb would make appearance, not yet as a Queen but definitelly in charge of keeping any Rock Trolls in line (she is not called a Princess because the Rock Trolls don't use that title for their heirs) and while Floyd is aware she is the future Queen, that information doesnt get shared)

The discovery of Funk Trolls still awaits as well, as does Branch's return to Lonesome Flats, as he had promised to do

But that's for the next time :)

[chaosvelvox]

bite me: vampire! reader x hwang yeji

cw: mentions of choking, blood, monsterfucking

tags: choking, blood, monsterfucking, vampire reader

yeji grew up with the idea that vampires are these hot, sparkling, beings that can control their thirst for blood. having watched vampire diaries and twilight; she got fixated with that thought and had hoped for a vampire to come sweep her off her feet and bite her. 

it’s not that the idea of vampires in the modern world are far fetched but – doing everything she could to be appetizing to vampires isn’t going to make her an automatic target. yeji has since been dreaming of becoming a vampire that she decides to walk around seoul forest in hopes of possibly bumping into one.

half of the time she speculates one of her classmates to be one but turns out they’re just pale.

during her late night walk around seoul forest, a bit tipsy having to come from a party hosted by her friend, yeonjun, she wasn’t expecting to bump into someone. looking at your figure as you hang by a tree upside down like a bat, she expected you to be a vampire but not the specific type she’s looking for.

to her, you seemed playful, hanging upside down and staring at her. maybe you weren’t a vampire and just enjoyed climbing trees in the middle of the night.

“aren’t you quite a fascinating little thing.” maybe it was yeji’s tipsiness that’s playing tricks on her as she notices the way your eyes changed from black to red. in a blink of an eye, you’re already standing in front of her.

maybe it’s the alcohol as she observes your figure, a few inches taller than her, a built figure, skin pale as a ghost, with your red eyes; she doesn’t know whether to believe it or not. smiling at her showing your perfect white teeth - you weren’t a vampire. until you show your fangs to her, that's when she slowly backs away.

this would have been a dream come true but here she is, running away from you with a smile on your face as you stop her in every turn she does. a stupid idea of running away when she knows that vampires have super speed and super strength that even when backed up into a tree with you two inches apart she still believed she could run away.

looking at you closer, as your hand slowly wraps around her neck, ready to suck the living life out of her. yeji couldn’t think straight as she focuses on the way you tighten your hold on her neck or how you’re holding her waist that she feels her stomach twisting, an ache in her core, and a moan slipping past her.

immediately covering her mouth as she looks at you embarrassed and you’re there standing processing what you heard as your hand is still around her neck and one around her waist. wanting to test things out, you pulled harshly on her hair and all you could hear was the most melodious sound in the world. slowly letting your hand run past her hair and grabbing it harshly at the back, fully exposing yeji’s neck, and fangs out – you can’t seem to focus.

“hngg - harder…” pinching the bridge of your nose as you look at her and her flushed out face as she tries to search for some sort of contact from you.

“i have yet to feast and all i’m hearing from you are these – sounds.” letting the hand around her neck go, and pulling her hair harshly as your fangs slowly pierces her neck. the first drop of human blood you had in a while and all you could hear are moans and whines from the girl you just stumbled upon to who is tipsy.

if she weren’t tipsy, she would have run away and thought of a possible way to escape you but she’s just taking everything you’re doing to her as if she’s your personal blood bag. letting her hands roam around your body, one running through your hair and grabbing onto it as you continue to drink her blood. her cunt looking for some friction, with your knee right in between her thighs – she started grinding on you. moaning in your ear and as you finally let go satisfied with the amount of blood you had drank from her. yeji looks at you with such a fucked out state with her mouth agape, a bit of blood dripping from her neck and grinding faster on your knee.

being a bit high on the blood, looking at her and not knowing her name but hearing her thoughts just telling you to fuck her right there and then – how could you resist it.

pulling her hair back as she squirms and stops from grinding, looking at you darkly in a fucked out state with the alcohol still kicking. she looks so pretty that you just want to ruin her, letting your other hand lift up her top and her body shivers from your cold hands as you pin her and place pressure onto her cunt using your knee and she loses it. wrapped around your finger as she squirms under you, letting your mouth do the work as you suck on her hardened nipple while you pinch and fondle with the other.

“p-please…” yeji underestimated how strong you’d be as you lift her up a bit so that her chest would be directly right in your face as her hands hold onto your hair slightly pulling you away as you switch between sucking and biting her nipple. she couldn’t do anything while you’re on top of her as she wraps her legs around your waist and pushes her cunt onto your face as you let go of her nipple with fangs still out and a smile on your face as you admire how swollen one of her boobs are.

“you’re one freaky human.”

“mhmm… i need you, please… please-”

yeji has been losing track of everything happening as you rip her tights that have been drenched by her own cunt as you lift her up and place her legs around your head. she’s like a drug from how she reacts to the way she moves her body, you haven’t met anyone who is like this in a while. maybe keeping her a pet wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

[fairytale-poll]

PRELIMINARY ROUNDS! MATCH 10 OUT OF 10

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Jenny:

Jenny is a character who, despite functioning as little red riding hood in the play, has a massive amount of development aside from that. Also: in the end, she goes from playing Red to taking over the role of the Wolf from its previous owner. The play is really cool and I love her character and I'd give you more info on her if I wasn't about to pass out

Scott:

he literally wears a red hoodie in the first episode as he goes exploring in the woods and then gets bitten and turned into a werewolf. the plot of season 1 revolves around finding the one who bit him and escaping werewolf hunters

[sunfyresrider]

*ೃ༄WICKED INTENTIONS | NETEYAM S.

✩Synopsis. You made the foolish decision of seeking sanctuary with a vampire.

✩Tags. blood, hypnosis, dubcon, fem!receiving, p n v, Vampire Neteyam, uhhh just smut. 1k words

✩Note. SHE HAS RISEN (lol hi)

minors dni 18+ minors dni 18+ minors dni 18+ minors dni 18+

As Neteyam lay asleep in his lair, melted candles and cobwebs lining the once luxurious walls, he had dreamt of times long past. He saw images in his dreams, from wars won and lost, of loved ones he had left behind, and of the world he had once known without a thirst for blood. In his nightmares, he prayed that he would be freed from his eternal solitude, join his companions in their graves.

Even whilst he slept his mind roamed ceaselessly, for the creature he had become never fully knew peace. The warm embrace that rest provided had been out of his reach for centuries, perhaps that’s why he had gone mildly mad. The last creature he had interacted with had been ten… no fifteen years prior, in passing. Solitude

An itchy feeling crept up Neteyam’s spine, his nose twitching as a new scent invaded his senses. Both of his pointed ears began to twitch, the pitter patter of feet quickly approaching the grandiose entrance of the castle. His eyes shot open, his golden irises gleaming with excitement. Neteyam’s body floated out of the coffin, the aroma of pulsing blood carrying him to where it stood.

A young woman, decorated in muddy fabrics and torn stockings sunk to the floor in the grand foyer. Your eyes were glazed over with tears, clutching your arms tightly to her body as she quickly glanced around your surroundings. The scent of her blood, rich and pure, was intoxicating. It was sweet and thick, like a fresh honeycomb dripping with dew.Twas a pity you appeared so patheticly helpless clinging to the old carpet.

Neteyam approached the trembling girl, his eyes fixated on the steady stream of red trailing down your pale arm. Your body was littered with scratches and bruises, blood seeping from each wound. She must have stumbled upon the castle after getting lost in the forest. The moment you spotted him you knew you had made a grave error, his appearance was far from human, more tragically beautiful beast than man.

You stuttered attempting to grab the nearest curtain to lift yourself, but your fingers only grasped thin air. Neteyam kneeled, his face mere inches from yours, his breath was cool against your flushed skin. A single claw traced your cheek, a shiver of fear running down your spine. “An intruder? Were the bodies outside not frightful enough to deter you?” Panic began seeping into your bones, you were so focused on running you hadn’t noticed anything…

“I-I mean no harm! I'm terribly lost and afraid… I only meant to come in for safety, I swear!” He stared down at the whimpering mess beneath him, the fear in her voice was intoxicating, her scent even more so. The vampire felt a stirring deep within his abdomen, his fangs beginning to ache.

The sight of your veins pumping and the delicious fear in your eyes made him more aroused than he thought possible, perhaps denying himself both food and company had long lasting effects. Neteyam picked you up by your arm, his cold skin making contact with yours. He wanted nothing more than to rip open your chest cavity and feast on the crimson liquid within, but something else stirred inside him, a desire he had long since forgotten.

“Do not fret, I don’t intend to kill you.” The master of the castle hands slipped down your neck, letting his fingers hover over your pulsing veins. “If you wish to stay, you’ll have to pay for it.” His golden eyes pierced into yours, fangs glistening, the grin on his face grew into a wicked smirk. You felt your resolve fading, eyes fluttering shut as you stared into him. Before you could utter a word the room changed, the clocks stopped ticking as you were laid out on his lush bed.

His hand caressed your cheek, a finger brushing against your bottom lip. The touch of his lips mirrored his appearance, frigid and lifeless. Your body felt light, eased into a faux sense of comfort, your mind in a cloudy haze as his lips trailed down to your nape, inching closer to your core.

thump thump thump

The sound of heart race quickening made his cock twitch with anticipation, the excitement of devouring his next meal was overwhelming. Neteyam’s tongue delved into your sensitive spots, basking in your flavor and heat he could not possess. His tongue prodded your entrance, lapping up the nectar flowing freely from your cunt.

Your hands shot down, tangling his dark hair in your fists, legs quivering as he toyed with your clit. The sensation of his cold tongue against you felt euphoric, like a cool breeze on a humid day. Your back arched, head falling back against the plush pillows as a high pitched whine escaped you.

The monster below you chuckled, your sweet taste lingering in his mouth. He brought his lips up to your ear, whispering sweet nothings as his thumb played with your clit. With the wave of his hand, the man pulled his trousers down, exposing his cock.

Neteyam hovered over you, lining himself up with your entrance, slowly sinking into your heat. The intensity of your heartbeat echoing within his ears made him shiver, denying himself the one pleasure he could obtain in this world. His hand squeezed around your throat, his thrusts quickening to match the pulsating veins within, worshiping the feeling of blood freely flowing.

His teeth grazed the shell of your ear, hissing under his breath. His free hand found your clit, rubbing circles into your bundle of nerves. The feeling of his hips against yours was intoxicating, the fullness inside of you had you drooling. Your eyes began seeing stars, the feeling of being so full, and the lack of air making you dizzy.

The intensity of first time pleasure was overwhelming, a tear falling from your eye as you struggled to breathe. The way your cunt tightened around him, and the delicious scent of your arousal only drove him more wild. Your heart pounded within his chest, the sensation of life pumping through him for a few short moments, and the tight grip on his hair made him weak.

The noises coming from you were only comparable to a goddess, if he could listen to them forever Neteyam would gladly live with his cunt stuffed inside you...

Your thighs began to shake around his waist, your orgasm rapidly approaching. Neteyam brought his lips to yours once more, kissing you roughly, biting your bottom lip till the sweet taste of iron flooded his mouth. He felt you tighten around him, walls clenching as he inhaled the sweet scent of you. Neteyam’s head dipped down into your neck, his eyes fluttering shut. “What if I drain you dry and keep you here with me forever, princess.“

Your eyes shot open, the feeling of fear beginning to seep back into your conscious as your body began to overwhelm with ectasy. His teeth sunk into you as your orgasm rippled through your body, his cock spilling inside you. Your eyes rolled back as he drained your essence, the feeling of bliss disappearing as your mind became hazy. Your eyes began fluttering close, all the limbs in your body becoming too weak to move.

Neteyam’s face came into your faded vision, hot blood streaming down his shiny fangs. “Sweet dreams, darling."

[strsburn]

sngä'ikrr [begin] ━ ˓𓄹 ࣪˖  neteyam [01.]

pairing - neteyam x fem! na'vi reader

synopsis - you have one subjective, find and bring back the olo'eyktan's daughter, no matter what.

see also - after witnessing your skills firsthand to protect his baby sister, neteyam becomes even more intrigued by you

warnings - reader being an absolute badass, some violence, minor injuries

notes - literally thank you so much, the prologue for sngä'ikrr [begin] has gotten so much attention and it surprised me, i am so grateful for everyone's nice comments and love and am excited to continue this story and build out these characters and their relationship that will continue to develop :')

please continue to leave feedback i love seeing your comments 💓

taglist ; @anm3mi @eywas-heir @ultimatebluff @bambisposts-blogs @velvtcherie @mashiromochi @northsoulss @koudnd @jkeluv @awriana

Your ears twitched atop your head, swiveling around as the sounds of the forest greeted you. You welcomed the smell of pandora, the feel of the soil beneath your feet a familiar sensation that allowed your body to relax as you trusted each of your senses to guide you to the path of the Olo'eyktan's lost daughter.

As you neared a large Yovo bush, a distressed sniffle reached your ears causing you to pause in your tracks as you lowered your bow. Following the treeline a dark blue tail with black tendrils flickered sadly as the owner of said tail continued to cry.

"Evi'" You called, using the affectionate term Ta'hlu referred to you. At your voice, the sniffling stop, the tail coming to a stiff halt in an almost comedic way. A small blue head peeked at you from beneath the leaves of the tree, looking down at you with wide eyes.

"Y/n?" Tuktirey voiced your name with shock, her glossy eyes surprised at the sight of you. You gave a small smile, as you motioned to where she sat.

"Your father has been worried for you, evi'. We could not find you." You told her, beginning to climb the tree after she allowed you up. At your words, she began to tear up again, no doubt overwhelmed by all that occurred.

"I didn't mean to worry them. I wanted to find some new fruit for sa'nok and couldn't remember the way back. I kept going and climbed this tree, do you think they'll be angry at me?" She asked with a worried frown. You sighed, opening your arm to allow her some comfort as she easily accepted it, her hair beads tickling your skin as they brushed over your arm.

"I think they will be relieved that you are home, Tuktirey. Upset? Yes, but only because they love you so much and it would pain them if something happened to you."

She sighed, understanding your point before she sat up with a bright grin.

"Thank you, y/n. But you know, we are friends now, so you can call me Tuk." You felt your heartstrings tug at her admission, and a soft smile grew on your face.

"Thank you Tuk, I could not ask for a better friend than you." She hugged you tightly around the neck as you patted her back gently, before offering your hand to help her down the tree.

Once the pair of you had reached the forest floor, you made to set off for Home Tree when a loud and wild snort had your tail swinging in alarm. You pushed Tuk behind you as an large angtsìk made its way into the clearing, it's eyes settling on you as it pawed the ground with fury, asserting it's dominance.

You narrowed your eyes, tail lashing out as you brandished your fangs in a loud hiss, ears pinned against your head. With your other hand, you reached for your blade keeping your eyes trained on your target.

Seeing the fire in your gaze, the angtsìk pounded it's hooves into the leaves and charged. You waited, counting each beat of its hooves down till the last second before you leapt for its back. It roared beneath your grip as you hung onto the roof of its head, your fingers digging into its scales.

Reering back with vengeance the animal struck you with it's head, the hard skin leaving a deep gash in your arm. Hissing, you grabbed the angtsìk by its head and held it while you swung your queue from behind, forming tsaheylu.

You closed your eyes as you felt the animal's fear, and it's anger, the strength beneath every breath, and the power in his stance.

Opening your eyes as the animal came to a slow trot, you ran your hand down it's side as you spoke softly.

"Mawey, I do not wish to fight." You felt peace rush through the bond and you smiled softly as you sat straighter on the angtsìk.

"Y/n!" You looked up as Tuk ran from behind the safety of her hiding place, making her way to your side. You smiled down at her as she looked up at you in awe.

"You managed to tame a angtsìk, you're so cool!" She exclaimed in excitement. You smiled at her before shaking your head in disagreement.

"No, Tuk. You cannot tame a beautiful creature such as this, we simply formed respect for one another. Now, come, we have been away for far too long."

Neteyam te Suli Neytiri'ite felt his heart pound beneath his azure skin, his ears twitching as he ventured deeper into the forest, trailing you.

He knew if his parents caught wind of his disappearance, they'd skin him, possibly tie his tail in a knot, eywa knows his mother was not one to be trifled with. But, he needed this. He yearned for the days before his near brush with death, the days where his family didn't walk on eggshells around him, was that the correct expression his father had taught him? Tail swishing, he focused back on task as he watched from beneath the leaves of a yovo bush as you, and his sister conversed.

He felt his heart rate slow as he gazed upon the form of his sister, happy to see you had kept your promise, and even more pleased at how you had comforted her. His heart rate increased considerably in those few moments of peace as a large angtsìk made its presence known as he watched in awe and trepidation as you managed to duel the beast and not only remain relatively unharmed but formed tsaheylu.

He felt his heart flutter in his chest, as he looked upon your form. You glowed with pride, honor, and love for your people. He felt his tail swaying with giddiness as unknown feelings crept up on him at the sight of your smile and he flinched as your eyes suddenly connected with his, from beneath his hiding place. He ducked, and taking one last glance at you he turned, and ran from the direction he came.

You watched with unbridled curiosity as the eldest of the Olo'eyktan's children, ran off, quite literally with his tail between his legs. You knew he only meant to see to it that you kept your promise in finding his sister, and based on how he had not made his presence known, he most likely was not meant to be there. So, you held your tongue, focusing on Tuk as she rambled on about her family and the new friends she had discovered while she was hiding in the trees.

As you returned to the base of hometree, you could see the Olo'eyktan, and his mate, along with the rest of your sisters, waiting for your return. You watched as their eyes widened upon seeing you on the back of an angtsìk, and you felt delight well in your chest as you disconnected the bond carefully, and dropped from the animal. You turned, and helped Tuk down as well as you brought her closer to her family, watching her mother hug her with tearful eyes as Toruk Makto caressed her head.

A nudge from behind had you turning to see the angtsìk who rumbled in displeasure at your departure, and you smiled as you pressed your forehead to his snout, leaning away carefully from his large fanned out horns.

"Irayo, my friend. I will call you, tíflrr. For you are brave, and gentle." You patted the angtsìk as he rumbled once again, pushing his head against your chest fondly before he turned and trotted back into the forest.

As you faced hometree, your ears pressed against your head in astonishment as the Olo'eyktan watched you with proud eyes. Putting your fingers to your forehead you greeted him, as he did the same.

"Toruk Makto." You stumbled to a bow, eyes downcast. Though you had been confident in your first meeting, you still felt intimidated by this warrior who had accomplished so much at your age.

A gentle head patted your shoulder, lifting you from your bow. You gazed into the warm eyes of Neytíri, a fearsome warrior, and legend amongst the na'vi. You held back a gasp as you realized your inspiration was standing before you.

"Irayo, y/n te Ta'hlu Ite. You have brought my daughter home, and formed tsaheylu with anangtsìk, one of the fiercest animals of our forests." You watched as the Olo'eyktan stepped up beside her, along with Ta'hlu who gazed at you with love and pride.

"Y/n, for your bravery, courage and responsibility for my daughter's safe return, we gift you this spear, wielded from the bark of hometree, vines from a yovo bush, and blessed by the ancestors." You felt tears form in your eyes, your ears twitching as cheers rang from the na'vi, calling your name. Everything you worked for up to this moment, to feel accepted, to feel worthy.

You locked eyes with Ta'hlu who nodded at you, holding her fingers to her forehead before bringing them down. You copied the gesture, hands shaking as you turned to accept the gift from the Olo'eyktan.

"Irayo, Toruk Makto. I will not forget this moment. I will do well to wield this spear proudly to honor you, and our people."

He smiled, playfully nudging you with his hand as he shook his head in disagreement.

"You do not need to address me as such, you may call me Jake Sully. You have done well, evi." You grinned, running your hand down the sharp point of the spear as your hair fell over your eyes. Your tail swinging with pure joy, and gratitude.

"Irayo, Jakesullí."

You could only hope to continue to bring honor to your people.

As you gazed upon your people, Neteyam watched you with a twinkle in his eye, his tail swinging in content, as his heart continued to flutter at your happiness.

irayo - thank you

angtsìk - an omnivore, known as the hammerhead titanothere to skypeople

evi - kid (affectionate term)

tsaheylu - bond

sngä'ikrr - begin

the next part will be a time skip where we explore neteyam's feelings for reader, and continue to develop those feelings as he attempts to start a friendship.

apologies for the long wait, i rewrote this many times to get the desired results and had a lot of writing block as well x

[veronicaphoenix]

fairy dust series — prelude | wc: 1.8k

Prelude summary: 8-year-old Ivy meets a fairy ೃ༄*ੈ Pairing: fae!oliver sykes x ivy (human ofc) x kitsune!noah sebastian

Tags and trigger warnings: ofc is a minor when she meets fae!oliver for the first time, there are no sexual innuendos or references; what's described is just pure infatuation, it's also implied that oliver has kidnapped children before but it's not specified for what reason, ofc is mentioned to have struggles fitting in and it's implied she doesn't have a good relationship with her parents or with her schoolmates.

→ part one, part two, part three | my works 🌙

This is for anyone who has ever felt out of place and still feels that way.

Prelude ೃ༄*ੈ

When Ivy was eight years old, she met a fairy. 

            It wasn’t the typical fairy she had read about in bedtime stories, no. This fairy was different. He was not small; quite the contrary. He wasn’t blonde, but a brunette. Nor did he have wings. Instead, his skin was covered in tattoos. 

            Ivy had wandered into the forest, ignoring the teachers’ strict instructions to stay with the group. She had never been one to follow instructions, anyway. 

            Before her, leaning nonchalantly against an ancient elderberry tree in the clearing she had stumbled upon, stood a man. Tall, stocky, with skin the color of pale moonlight, and a cascade of long, chestnut hair that reached his shoulders. His body was adorned with intricate tattoos from head to toe, and a single earring glinted in his right ear. He was barefoot, his chest bare, revealing designs that whispered of secrets and stories she was too young to comprehend. 

            He was whistling a melody that seemed to echo from the depths of her memory. 

            Ivy hadn’t realized she was staring until the fairy slowly turned his head towards her. As his gaze met hers, she noticed that his eyes were mismatched, one a deep sapphire, the other a vivid emerald. 

            Then, the fairy smiled, a slow, languid smile that revealed sharp, gleaming fangs—fangs that should have sent her running in fear.

            But Ivy stood rooted to the spot, her eyes wide and her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. 

            “Well, well,” the fairy’s voice sang out, each word dripping like honey from a comb. “What have we here?” 

            Ivy blinked but remained immobile, mesmerized by the enigmatic figure before her. She needed no one to tell her what he was. She knew, not because of his appearance, but because of the way his eyes glowed with a mesmerizing, otherworldly light; because as he approached, he left a trail of shimmering, blue-tinted smoke, and because he exuded a fragrance that was an intoxicating blend of every flower imaginable, rendering him both enchanting and perilous. 

            “What are you doing here, little thing?” the fairy inquired, now just three feet away.

            His smile grew broader, more wicked, as if he actually knew what Ivy was doing there. At her tender age, she sensed the danger his smile implied. Yet, she didn’t want him to stop smiling. He was beautiful. And he was smiling at her.

            The closer he came, the more her feet itched, as if urging her to shed her boots and follow him wherever he might lead. She had to tilt her head back, higher and higher, until he was kneeling before her, resting one forearm on his bent knee.

            He leaned in closer. His teeth were immaculate and gleaming. Ivy felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch his cheek, to feel the texture of his skin, to run her fingers through his hair, pet him like she used to pet rabbits. 

            “Are you lost?”

            “No,” Ivy replied, her voice steady. She felt no fear, only a sense of being utterly spellbound. 

            “Seems to me that you are,” he commented, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows toward the distant clamor of the other children’s voices. 

            Ivy should have been with them. That was what she had always been told to do. Ivy was a child and had to do what other children did, stay with the teachers, listen to her elders, and do her homework every afternoon after school. But Ivy had never fit neatly into the boxes others tried to fit her in. A child of her age shouldn’t wander alone in the woods, much less a child like Ivy, who believed in the existence of fantastical worlds where things were different, where she could be free and brave. 

            In Ivy’s dreams, she envisioned a place where stars would fall from the sky and land in her open hands, where raindrops would explode into glitter on her skin, where flowers would sing lullabies, and creatures would revere her without mentioning her human imperfections. A place where her perceived flaws, the ones her parents often reminded her of, didn’t matter. A place where she could face evil without being told it was a losing battle, especially for a child like her. 

             In the world Ivy longed for, her body was a temple, worshiped and revered as a source of strength and courage, for she was a little warrior. Her heart was resilient and determined and had room for both softness and the harshness of life, the bitterness of failure and the sweetness of victory. Her soul, despite the storms, never stopped searching for the light. 

            But, above all, it was a place where love existed, an unconditional and vast love, capable of embracing everyone no matter what, offering comfort and warmth to those who needed it and accepting the one she deserved. 

             “I’m not lost,” she asserted, her voice firmer.  

            Oliver’s smile grew slowly, his eyes twinkling with amusement at the conviction and resilience emanating from her. 

            “Are you sure?” 

            “I come into the woods very often.”

            She did; more often than not, truthfully. The woods felt more like home than her own house; the trees were more like friends than her classmates; the plants more like family than her parents.  

            The last time she had been caught by her mother roaming the woods, she had been dragged back home. Her parents had taken all her fairy tale books and hidden them away. Ivy had cried for hours, but it hadn’t deterred her. She knew that fairy tales weren’t just in books; they were out there, waiting for her. 

            “How so?” The fairy asked, his curiosity piqued. 

            “I like it here,” Ivy answered simply. 

            “And you come alone?”

            She hesitated, sensing the potential danger in sharing such information. But the allure of his presence was too strong.  

            “Yes. I like being alone.”

            Oliver’s smile remained, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his mismatched eyes. “You are brave for one so young,” he said, his voice a gentle melody. She wondered how it would feel to fall asleep to it. “The woods can be a place for both wonder and danger. I suppose you’re aware of that, aren’t you?”

            “I am,” Ivy replied, lifting her chin slightly. A butterfly had alighted on the fairy’s hair, and it threatened to steal Ivy’s attention, if only for a moment. She shook her head, reminding herself of the man—the creature kneeled before her. “But I’m not afraid.” 

            “Perhaps because the humans around you scare you more.”

            He was right, but she didn’t let him know. Instead, she sighed, a little dragon huff, and slumped her shoulders. Her small hands clenched into tiny fists, her backpack weighing heavily on her shoulders. Oliver’s eyes raked her up and down. She wore jeans that had been sown at the knees, and the corner of his lips quirked upward again. How many times must she have tripped in the woods, while chasing after goblins? 

            He would learn that number and so much more.

            Everything. 

            “What’s your name?” he asked, starting with the basics. 

            He almost made himself laugh with that thought, as if he hadn’t been eyeing the girl for the last five days, following her little steps the moment she entered the woods, watching her as she made flower crowns, as she sang to herself and talked to the plants with her feet soaked in the river, as she spilled her secrets and desires into the mist.

            “Ivy.”

            His eyes widened.

            “Oh, like poison ivy.”

            “I’m not poisonous,” she retorted, a little wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows. 

            She looked adorable, and Oliver couldn’t help but feel his impish fascination with this little creature grow.  

            “You aren’t? What are you, then?”

            Oh, how he relished playing with her. 

            “Just…” she glanced around, as if suddenly uncertain, “a girl.”

            There was a note of doubt in her voice. 

            “That,” he poked her nose gently, causing her eyelashes to flutter. The butterfly in his hair took flight, its wings shimmering in the dappled sunlight, “you are. But I’m pretty sure you’ll be poisonous once you grow up. Deadly, even. Hence why I have to go now. I will return when you’re of age.”

            “Return?” she echoed, her voice a whisper of curiosity. “For what?”

            She wished for him to stay a little longer.

            He stood up, towering over her like a great, ancient tree. 

            It was a sacrifice to his own desires to not take her away that very instant, to restrain his appetite and greed from consuming him and doing the same thing he had done to many other children to Little Ivy. 

            “To take you away, of course.”

            A shiver danced down her spine. Her heartbeat quickened, caught between the twin flames of fear and excitement. 

            She took a step back, her brows knitted into a defiant glare.

            Little Ivy was unaware of the power she already had over him—over a folk creature accustomed to getting whatever he desired.   

            “And what if I don’t want to go with you?”

            “Oh, but you will want to, darling,” he promised, extending an arm to wrap a strand of her hair around his finger, twirling it enticingly. “Because the place I’m going to take you is the place you’ve been dreaming of. The things I’m going to show you nobody’s ever shown you before; the things I’m going to do to you nobody has ever done, and the things I’m going to make you feel nobody’s ever made you feel. You will beg me to steal you away.”

            Little Ivy had never felt her throat go as dry as it did in that moment, her breath caught in a gasp as the fairy gazed down at her with his charming smile, his fingers weaving through her hair like threads of enchantment.  

            What kept him from taking her away at that very moment? 

            She would have begged then and there, were it not for the tremor of fear and fluttering butterflies within her. 

            He assured her he would come back. In ten years’ time. 

            She watched him go. 

            As he turned and began to fade into the forest’s embrace, her eyes fell on the tattoo etched upon his back. It showed an animal, some sort of creature that looked familiar to her but not entirely. It looked like a fox, yet, it was adorned with nine tails unfurled in a sophisticated dance. 

            Ivy was already questioning how a fox could have so many tails when her thoughts stilled.

            The fox’s eyes had moved, its sharp gaze meeting hers, almost smiling.  

            She could be hallucinating, of course, but as she lay in bed that night, she replayed the moment over and over again, and she was convinced the animal had been looking straight at her.

→ next part ✨ | my works 🌙

[natimiles]

She could be the one (Mitsuki x reader)

Summary: The first time Mitsuki sees you, she’s surprised. It doesn’t take long for the two of you to become interested in each other.

Words: 334

Tags: scenario; no pronouns for reader; confessions; first kiss; friends to lovers (kinda?); fluffy.

Notes: title for this little scenario is from the song “Summer Days” (Fall Out Boy, Macklemore, Martin Garrix)

The first time Mitsuki sees you, she’s surprised. She never thought another fellow human would agree to stay in the mansion to work, but she’s glad. To be fair, she and Sebastian have been needing some help — and she actually doesn’t know how the butler used to handle this whole household on his own before!

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to become interested in each other.

At first, as friends. How you two ended up there by accident, how you stirred up a little chaos with your arrival. She grows interested in knowing your hobbies, what you used to work with, what your favorite food is, and how you like to spend your days off. You love to hear her travel stories, about her blog, her favorite dessert, and the things she likes to do in town.

It takes even less time for the friendship to evolve into something else, something more. Both of you are asking — not as smoothly as you think — more personal questions, talking about more personal topics, wanting, needing to know more about each other. Are you single? Do you have someone special in your life waiting for you? Do you like someone now?

She’s disappointed when you say that you’re actually in love with someone, but it lasts only a second.

“You. I love you,” you say with that beautiful smile that she grew to love so much, so fast.

“Oh!” she exclaims, blinking cutely at you. “That’s… nice.”

She opens the brightest smile you’ve ever seen and takes one step closer.

Arms wrap around each other in a warm and tender embrace. Lips touch in a soft and loving kiss. Tongues explore with curiosity and fervor. Breaths are taken away, heartbeats increase, hands are sweaty, and it’s all perfect. It all just clicks, as it’s meant to be.

When you pull away to press your forehead against hers, she looks right back into your eyes, her gaze gentle and relieved.

“I love you too.”

Taglist: @bicayaya @silverbladexyz @koco-coko @yamarireads @judejazza @echoes-in-the-forest @chandeliermichel @fang-and-feather

Masterlists

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, part 24

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies, you die too. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes. Though it looks like we have a couple secrets of our own.

Previous part

Part 24: fulfillment

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"There needs to be a central place," Charlie paced around the small map lying on the library floor. "Somewhere for everyone to hang out and share feelings and meet each other."

Husker and I sat on one of the window seats with a drink in hand. He had alcohol and I had tea. The hot summer days brought heavy rain in most of the afternoons, either cooling things off or making everything hot and muggy. Fortunately, today was a cool day.

Alastor stood in the corner between me and the fireplace. Since the start of this project only two days ago, he had been increasingly annoying and bothersome. He always had some snide, rude, or sarcastic remark to make to anyone and everyone. When it came to me, he was always putting a hand on my shoulder. Each and every time I pushed it off.

"What about just one big hall? Meals and other activities can be held there, too." Vaggie was just as smiley as Charlie. If I had to guess, they had been bored out of their minds for decades since their hotel went under.

To my great dismay, I had been outvoted for location of the Safe Haven. We were going to build it from the ground up in the field and forest right outside the house. Alastor had casted a smug smile, one without teeth, in my direction when the decision had been made. It infuriated me.

Later, when the sun had sunk into the ocean, I was told there would be two more people arriving shortly. They were residents of Charlie's hotel long ago and apparently jumped at the chance to help her again.

She greeted the Demons at the back door and brought them into the library. One of them was a huge black snake with red eyes dotted across his skin. He wore a black hat and had long fangs poking out of his sweet smile.

The other one had four arms and a pair of legs. I thought he was a woman until he spoke and introduced himself otherwise. Husker had immediately stood beside him and the new Demon wrapped his arm around his shoulders. Husker had never told me about him before.

My veins suddenly tightened. 

Oh no. 

I asked if anyone wanted anything to eat or drink and hurried into the kitchen. I used my tail to move the one door closed, quietly, and leaned on the counter. I clutched at my chest and tried to push the feeling down. I had forgotten to hunt this morning since Charlie had practically dragged me out of bed and downstairs to plan.

"Everything alright?" Alastor's condescending tone reached my ears.

"Never better," I said through gritted teeth. I took a deep breath and grabbed mugs from the cabinet. "And no, I don't need you."

"I didn't ask."

I casted a glare up at him. I used magic to heat the kettle faster and poured hot drinks for four Demons, knowing Husker wouldn't take anything other than alcohol. I brought the drinks into the library and set them in the desk. They were all in heated discussion and I realized just then how good of friends they were with each other. I suddenly felt very out of place.

I silently disappeared and fled the house. I shifted into my Dragon and hunted through the forest for any critters. I needed something to make the pain stop.

It ended up being a bat. I sat under a large tree to stay out of the rain and sunk my teeth into its skin. No matter how much of it I drank and ate, the satisfaction grew worse. It was almost as if my body had grown immune to this type of blood.

Shit.

I made my way back to the house. Once the planning for the Safe Haven was finished, I needed to convince Charlie to let the first inhabitants be the children from the ring fights. I could get what I needed in the skirmish.

Alastor was waiting just inside the front door. "Did it suffice?"

"Leave me alone." I went back into the library feeling itchy all over. Even my blood felt itchy. At least the sharp pain was gone and it was just an annoying thorn in my back.

I was quiet for the remainder of the night for the most part. I let the group do their own thing and only offered my input when no one could decide on something. Alastor perched himself on one of the chairs in the corner and was also relatively quiet. He pushed my shields a few times as if to remind me he was there.

****

Building began the very next day. Alastor, Husker, and I spent the morning casting the water into the ocean and drying up the earth. Apparently all Demons hated rain, execept for me. Fortunately, the sun came out and helped speed up the process.

The group from last night came back ready to build. My heart stopped when I saw the King of Hell walking down in front of them. Alastor's eyes locked on the small man and static gurgled in his throat. It took all of three seconds before the two of them were at each other's throat. No one could tell me why they hated each other.

The group had decided to focus on creating basic housing 'huts', food gardens, and a common space for the newcomers to use. Once we had more people, the easier it would be to truly build the city. Charlie seemed to have a certain vision for it and some of her sketches looked interesting. She was incorporating a lot of nature into the layout. I couldn't say that I hated it. I had lived on concrete most of my life and being close to nature in the past year was really nice.

The basic layout followed most of what today's cities followed: brick and stone. She was already accounting for lots of inhabitants so the building had at least two layers to them. Everything had lots of windows to allow as much sunlight in as possible. It made sense since, even in the summer time, all the Demons wore long sleeves and pants. Husker and I were the odd ones out who were always sweating and complaining of the heat.

Alastor didn't do much to help the group. He stayed on the porch and simply watched from afar. Lucifer helped by magically spawning the material into existence but even he didn't do much to actually build anything. The rest of us used bits of magic to build the basic huts and the 'grand hall', as Charlie put it.

It felt good to have something physical to do. It was also refreshing to be around people other than Alastor and Husker. I didn't really say much, content with being silent and observant. They all seemed like really good friends and I even noticed Husker was especially close with Angel.

Everything was going fine for the most part. The huts were made from basic wood dug deep into the ground. There was a glass wall at the front where a curtain could be pulled across at night for privacy. Each one held four beds. They would soon be filled with ex-ring fighters.

Everything was going fine...until it wasn't.

We were nailing in one of the boards on the side of the hut when Angel nicked one of his arms on a nail. He pressed at the wound and dropped the hammer. My eyes widened as the smell reached my nose.

Oh no.

My feet were bolted to the ground and my hands hung still in the air. My Demon side came out as the smell only strengthened when he pulled his hand away. My veins tightened and breathing became really hard. Everything hurt. Husker was too busy tending to him to notice my state.

I breathed out through my nose and held my breath. I squeezed my eyes shut and took the to the sky in my Dragon form. I wanted to turn around so bad. I wanted to taste his sweet blood. It had been so long since I last had Demon's blood and he was so close to me. But I couldn't. That wasn't me. I wasn't a Demon like that.

But boy did Demon's blood taste sweet.

My mind started to hurt. I flew deep into the forest and landed in a cold river. I tried covering myself in the freezing water but it did nothing to rid the feeling. My eyes scanned the scenery for life, finally landing on a deer. I ran and caught it within seconds, tearing apart it's fresh and drinking it's blood.

It did nothing.

I shifted to my Demon form and tried again. No amount of blood or flesh eased the agony. It was so painful everywhere, inside and out. I needed to breathe, to think, to be normal. I needed blood other than an animal's.

I looked at the dead animal in front of me. My claws up to my elbows were covered in blood and the fronts of my pants were soaked with it. The poor creature had died for nothing.

Pain surged through me again. I curled inward and fell on my back. It felt like my body was eating itself from the inside. I crawled over to the water and looked at my reflection. My horns were obvious and blood was smeared across my face. I looked like a real Demon.

I dunked my head into the river and rubbed it off. It took several tries before most of it had finally come off my skin. My shirt and pants would need to be thrown out.

"This is very unbecoming of you." My head jerked up to see Alastor standing a few paces from me, cane in hand.

"What the hell do you want?" I snapped. I dried my face with the clean part of my shirt. I was afraid to stand in case it made the pain pulse again.

"To ensure my soulmate doesn't die because of her stubbornness and stupidity."

"I'm not stupid."

"You have waited so long and let yourself reach such a painful state because you couldn't set your ego and morals aside."

"You're one to talk about ego." Another pulse ran through my body. I curled further into myself as nausea took hold of me. I dug my hands into the earth and let out a strangled yell. I just needed it all to stop.

"All you had to do was ask." His cane tapped the rocks as he stepped near me. He knelt down and held out his hand. A piece of red meat sat on brown paper in his palm. He used his claw to poke it so blood dripped out.

Hunger and pain threw me off balance. I clung to the grass as my world began to tilt wildly to one side. My breathing came out in long, hard gasps. My head felt cloudy and I couldn't think straight. All I could focus on was the sweet smell of the blood in his hand.

I reached for it but he held it up. "Ah ah, you have to ask me first."

"What?" I choked.

"If you want this pain to go away, you have to ask me for this simple antidote."

"I'm not...you're...you can't..." I gagged as the pain worsened. I put a hand into the cold water but it did nothing to wake me up. "P-please..."

"Please what?"

"Please..." I started to drool as I struggled to push myself to my elbows. Everything took thrice the effort. I didn't want to ask him but it was so close. All I had to do was ask. That's it. "Can...can I have it?"

"What was that, dear?" He put a hand up to his ear condescendingly.

"Can I have it?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"Of course, darling." He held out the meat and I snatched it from his grasp. My teeth pierced the sweet flesh and the blood soothed every ache and pain in my body. It felt so satisfying as it slipped down my throat and warmed my body.

My head cleared and my muscles relaxed as I swallowed it. I let out a heavy sigh and laid down. I craved more but it had satisfied what I needed. I felt calm.

"Come, darling, let's make you presentable."

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Author's Note:

OoooOoOOoh I liked this one a lot. Also, would y'all be interested in the Spotify playlist I listen to when I write this story?