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xenvaei · 8 months ago

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So I wrote this in 2023 for a writing position, but never got the job. Decided, why the fuck not? Put this in Fins Above history for the Mongrels.

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In the lushes of forests, there were beasts that had conformed to their own way of life. Painting their claws, chewing on herbs, burning scents and whistling to the damp air at nighttime hoping to find another pack like their own. Another pack that stood on their hinds, beat their chests and howled towards the fading stars that seemed to turn into supernovas right before their eyes. Their bodies trickled into thin fur as they rose from the river, sniffling out spurts of murky water and chittering to each other.

One, a coat of blue and gray, wafted their fur back and hunched. Warm brown skin underneath had begun to rise as they shed and laid in the pain of popping bones. Their wide yellow eyes opened as far as they could until their breath drew to a halt and they stretched out their palms. The river water laid dripping off their nose and face until the blood pumped and the shock of the transformation gave them life once more. In the pack, a puppy's first shift meant becoming a hound. The brown skin filled with heat as the shifter rose onto his knees and growled out from under the weaker set of canines.

He said, "Nawk'a mer la kow." A language unknown to humans, yet so expressive. The entirety of the pack formed a culture around the trees and the soil and the hunt. Their language, being composed of sounds like the trembling skies and calls of their prey, had meant more than just words.

As a few more shifters edged from the stalks of the trees, they approached him with caution and then sniffed his flank and scruff. The were was no longer wet behind his ears, and the puppy was to be announced a hound when the moon rises. Their paws touched the grains of the earth, filling the grooves of the stone paths that trailed towards their pack territory.

...

"Tawo! Gnawe, gnawe!"

It was the call of prepared prey along the mists of the territory. It smelled finely dazzled in nutrition, but the new hound didn't sit around the burning fire to eat. He lowered his head outside of the ring, finding a nice brush of fallen leaves and wet droplets to settle on for the morning feast. He looked towards the sky before parting his jaws and tearing the cervidae flesh apart.

Over the treetops, he could see the flinching birds traveling in flocks. He felt their heartbeat and every wing around the sun's energy hit the air with passion. There was no denying his calling. One that the other wolves there could smell on his fur. His wings wanted to spread, so that he could join them overhead, yet he only felt featherless instead.

Nothing compared to the wind wiping the blood from his jaw at nighttime, or the dawn's howling mist of dew. Nothing he could ever imagine would feel that great. He looks back at his pack, noticing them feasting on their breakfast and fondling their fur for mites and such, and yet, he cannot feel his paws itch with adventure. He cannot see himself next in line for being the Grand Sire. Only one breeding male takes that role, and once his gray muzzled father takes his last breath, he will be first breeder.

Suddenly, the knowledge of it all made his appetite spoil.

"Tawo, hound'awe la woe?" He perked his ears as one wolf trotted up to him with stride. Their golden coat freckled with stains of browning oats seemed to catch Tawo's eyes. The new hound could barely focus as a rush of adrenaline filled him. His littermate's smell sat in his nose as they exchanged licks behind the necks. Now, the world around him was no longer foreign, and he could finally unmask.

"Ro... Roak! Yes! Swimming was two moons past," Tawo spoke up, feeling his heart warm with the presence of his friend. The golden coat brandished marks, but they weren't as important as the apparel on them. All werewolves bore necklaces and jewelry, but he was of noble kind for a noble deed. High regards from the grand sire, one Tawo was yet to receive.

Roak felt a smile bristle his black lips, shaking the prickled fur along his skin. The wind was beginning to pick up, and with their damp fur, a cold would be on the way. The two moved to the busy center of the territory, where a large fireplace burned blue and orange flickers.

"This coat color was absent, then you grow dressed in a hound's tail," with excitement filling his tail, Roak asked, "Did Grand Sire award you?"

Tawo was reluctant. No, he thought, the rigid wolf holds out. Tawo felt his gaze drop, and as soon as he paused in emotion, Roak knew that he was given a short tail.

"No. I think he tests me. He said my hunting is like the humans on lake and that I swim like the dirt."

Roak eyed him, "Maybe he is right."

"It is not fair," Tawo bared his teeth, "I work tail to bone on outfields to find prey and he belittles me before all teeth in the pack. Now I sleep, guarding nipping puppies."

"Well," Roak held his head up, pausing to take in the familiar smells of the earth. From afar, he watches the dancing trees waft pinecones and bitter autumn from them. He could taste the winter chill on the soil below him, "Me and my pack come to visit. We thought all would need materials from the mountains." His golden coat clenched and the fur laid flat. Roak played with a small bag in his palm.

From Roak's furry paws, Tawo takes the gift within his. He feels the soft woven patterns of the fabric before opening it. Inside, a crystal bead hung from a thick leafy weaving material shone with compassion. Tawo cowered a bit before inching towards Roak and feeling his back. Soon, the two embraced into a long hug.

...

The temperature was dropping and the sun was folding back into the starry sky. By then, Roak and his pack had left and the stains of Tawo's unfamiliarity rolled back into his mind.

What had begun as a stroll in the depths of the forest had merged into a chase. Tawo moved closer to the breeze that cooled his thick coat as he ran through the brambles and bushes. Sounds from in front of him were that of a small rodent, one that bore a long bushy tail and claws of white parchment. The prey skittered up a tree, and to Tawo's disappointment, this beast outmatched him.

His heart raced when he realized where he was.

Being this close to the high walls, just a few inches away, felt amazing. But if he knew anything of his people, his hind legs would guide him back into the tall cover of the trees.

Tawo proceeded to move closer, past the ditch, and then eyeing through the cracks and into the city. He could see the cars, the large buildings and smelly cans of trash left to rot outside. It was just like his mother had described. But the scuffling in the fallen leaves drew him backwards and into the shadows, watching a small human exit the high wall barrier and hurry across the bricks with thick layers of animal fur. Their entire body was covered in a gray pelt, possibly a feline's skin, and worn as a belt and a drape.

Tawo felt his muscles tense as he laid in an uncomfortable position, watching their every move until his tail twisted and his arm crumbled below his weight. The wolf went tumbling down the slope and stranding himself in a large ditch. The water was rushing, and he couldn't breathe.

He could hear the human footsteps quicken their pace around him, and the urge to call for them rose in his deep voice. Tawo shuffled as the thick waste water overtook his senses, tossing him closer and closer to the human. Just below the bridge they watched from, he yowled out. The human mimicry within him fell outwards. "Help!" He shouted.

The furred human turned, not yet seeing his face, and ran down the slope where the boulders met the water. Their stubby arms were too short to reach, so their blade was the second option. Tawo watched the glimmer from the weapon and grasped the sharp edge, hosting himself from the slime and sludge of the waste water. He was drenched in plastics, rope, and the stench of urine when he rose to the surface.

"People like you fall in all the time," The human spoke with a thick accent.

Tawo could not pull his eyes from them. The human was interesting, and their curves were different from the other pack members. A living human was a surprise to anyone in the pack.

"What to do?" He asked with a grumble. The human eyed him like he had gotten mush in his ears too.

"Go clean up," The human stated, going in to move him along before seeing that his fingers were that of an unknown shape. The shadow casted upon his face was a long snout, and the sun seemed to mend his body into one blob. A monster.

They reared back, calmly pointing a dart gun from her holster at Tawo's legs, "Don't move."

The gun did not bother him, for he had not known the dangers.

Hunger for the human's knowledge ached him. His attention stayed on chasing a squirrel, but now a human was before him. He could settle with this as well.

He started, "You are bitch."

The woman furrowed her brows, now aiming at his head, "What did you just call me?" Her stance widened to account for the space around her, moving backwards whenever he came closer.

"Bitch," He at least understood her question, and spoke again, "Are you hen?"

"Stay the fuck back." Her growl made him sit to her command. Not as mighty, he could now feel the tone of the atmosphere. Tawo rested his underbelly on the ground, all while passing glances at her with wide eyes. The gun shuffled a bit when she said, "What are you?"

Tawo curled his tail, eyes now wet with uncomfortable stinging, "Wolf." He could feel it in his paws. She was going to shoot him and eat his organs. Something that the humans were said to do, yet the fear bubbled into air as the woman softened her grip and hushed herself. She was second guessing the pull.

The woman counted her chances. Then examined the dart gun and the eye level of the forest. It wasn't worth the trouble. She spit to the ground and stepped back again.

"Tell your 'alphas' and the other cosplaying freaks that you ran too close to the high wall," she glared, "And that your tagger's name...is Kestrel."

With exact precision, the dart slipped into his hind leg and clipped a part of his skin.

Tawo screamed, with so much emotion that it was human to Kestral. The woman charged herself to move backwards and as she did, her face filled with horror as his body merged back into man. The hound arched over, feeling the sting of the wound widen with each part of his skin that had fallen short of fur in the shift. Tawo grabbed a couple of leaves from the earth and dampened them with his spit, tongue lapping out a bit of mucus he could lather the ball into. Thick cloth made it a way to stop the bleeding.

The humanoid huffs and groans from his lips wrangled Kestrel's sense of morale. He wasn't lying. She felt her face heat with confusion. The evils of the world were packaged into something like.. this? Reduced to a whining puppy the second he got hurt. Kestrel watched as Tawo growled on his tongue.

"Ignorant! If aiming at my head, pain my head!"

He made no sense at the moment. All she could think about was the nude male clutching his leg in pain. And how her psyche would repair after. A justification of her actions, or an apology for the wound. Nothing could cross her mind though, as even sympathy would have to wait until tomorrow.

The clock on her hip called for the woman to retreat, and as she looked at Tawo one more time, her face scrunched up in thought. She'd arrive tomorrow to call for him...

If he still wanted to listen..

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itrimehalle · 2 years ago

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zionism wants us to look away.

so it turns off the lights, the power, the signal, and commits its crimes in the dark, where we cannot see. zionism thinks that if it murders children in their beds at night, while the world is asleep, no one will notice. zionism thinks that people will not light torches and flashlights and matches until palestine is lit in red flames, flickering glow illuminating bombed hospitals and the bodies of the people that once sought refuge inside of it. zionism thinks that we will put our pillows over our heads and drown out the sound of their screams.

but what lurks in the dark only scares us more, because we know despite not seeing. so we take to the streets in frantic rage — filling our vision with red for their blood and green for their land and black and white for their freedom — and wait until it sees us. we are not blind, nor will we close our eyes.

zionism wants us to forget.

so it tells us stories of its history and its pain and its justifications, drowning out the thousands of children sobbing over the bodies of their parents, ripped apart by illegal weapons and laughing soldiers. it holds its press conferences and talks about antisemitism and nazism, unaware that it only echoes the atrocities it speaks of, committed by villains just like its people. it lies and it lies and it lies and it tells us we are liars, so that perhaps the truth will one day slip our minds.

but we are louder, eternally so, and we will be heard forever. human rights are not a piece of clothing, to be called a trend, to outgrow and then throw out to be recycled into something else, diluted and watered-down. our so-called phase will live on in the history books as the toppling of tyrants, and only then will it stop.

zionism wants us not to care.

so it makes its excuses, and suddenly an entire ethnicity are animals so undeserving of water and electricity and life. they are mongrels, zionism says, to be kicked to the curb and beaten. they are dogs, who have no need for home or a place to live. fathers are terrorists working to do everything they can to protect those they love as bombs rain down on them. mothers are extremists that yell and curse and beg for their family to be spared. children are agents of war throwing rocks at tanks. there are soldiers hiding out in those schools, and that is why they must be blown to bits.

(animals are treated better.)

but how? what did that unborn baby do to them? was it, too, planning evil savagery from the womb? we demand answers to impossible questions. we will continue to do so until zionism starts making sense, because we are only being fed too many equations that don’t add up. missiles fired at innocent families do not equate war, or anything but genocide.

(zionism says that those who stand against it are terrorists. we laugh. there must be a hell of a lot of terrorists in the world, because we flood the news with our flags.)

zionism wants us to give up.

it is hoping for the impossible. there is no defeat for a people that know that death is not the end. palestine will never die.

and halfway across the globe — resistance is in every skip of our heartbeats when we watch the news with horror. resistance is in every roar of outrage that shakes downtown during a protest. resistance is in every time we drape a flag over our shoulders to leave the house.

resistance, for me, is paint on my cheeks and dark liner i call my ‘protest makeup’. an enamel pin i wear to school, and the glare i give people who look at me funny for it. my posts. hijab. a hoodie with ‘palestine’ in arabic lettering stitched across the front.

alone, it’s nothing. but in the thrumming mass of angry protestors, waving a flag off the top of construction scaffolding, it’s everything. i promise. as long as we keep yelling, zionism hears us. it sees us. it will not forget us, and it will give up.

and then palestine will finally be free.

#palestine #free palestine #free gaza #gaza #protest #boycott israel #resistance #my writing

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dmagedgoods · 2 years ago

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Birds of Passage - Log 2

to log 1 ~ Wilderness, day 2 after the escape. We found something interesting among the rubble and debris. I may as well keep it for a while, although I’m not sure yet if it’s valuable or just nicely decorated: A white-haired elf, one of those with a pedigree, as ridiculously handsome as they come; the kind who wouldn’t take a second look at a mongrel like me: half elf and half the scum who called himself my father. Nobles like our new friend (Astarion, he introduced himself), tend to react deliciously surprised when I appear to slit their throats. Under different circumstances, back in Baldur’s Gate, he either would have been one of my clients or – and the role fits him better – my target. Probably one of those who start doing some endearing begging with my blade close to their delicate, lotioned, and perfumed skin. Maybe I would have taken his pleading offer to accept twice the sum to turn against his enemy instead. He truly is handsome. And he has quite a pretty voice, overly dramatic, but pretty. I’m sure he can be convincing if he tries a little more. To my immense delight, our roles were reversed when I met him and had turned around to leave him to whatever issue he was facing with one of the still-alive creatures from the ship. – Not Us anyway, I assumed, and felt the elf’s knife at my throat a moment later. “I was so hoping for a kind soul. Well, not to worry.” He is fast, but not as fast as me. I overwhelmed him in a heartbeat, and he retreated. “What did you and those tentacled freaks do to me?” The memory is strangely vivid, I can almost hear his words. Does the worm in my head make it easier to recall those moments? They are clear and strong when I focus on them, as if they happened seconds ago, right here and now, not half a day ago. “I haven’t done anything to you. Yet.” His angry little smile made me smirk and hope he’d try to attack me again. “You arrogant little …” Then our tadpoles connected. He has been on the ship with us. And like me and Shadowheart, he urgently needs to get rid of the unwelcome guest in his conceited head. It seems there are more people with the issue than I assumed. This ship must have been full of unlucky bastards kidnapped all around Baldur’s Gate by those tentacled abominations. One of them managed to get stuck in a wall. Gale is the name of this doing-good-mage. He’s quite fond of pompous drivel for someone I had to pull out the stonework of some ruin, and he joined our little group. I fear I’ll have to stab him if he starts holding lectures. Searching another part of the shipwreck, before we encountered the wizard, revealed that some of the intellect devourers indeed survived the crash. And even one of the mind fuckers – though badly injured and close to death. I left them to their fate and I guess they already stopped breathing by now. Or maybe not and they have a long last night ahead of them. Note to self: Close to the beach, eastern from the wreckage, we found a door that may lead to some interesting place in the best of cases and some old, empty cave in the worst. I have to try and see if I can open the lock.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #tav #birds of passage #birds of passage - log 2 #oc: rowley #dmagedtexts #my writing #misusing the tadpole as writing device to get some more immediate scenes #despite the journal style #bg 3 spoilers #dmagedplaying

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joelwindows7 · 2 years ago

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Hello, it's A_potato from thisvid. As i saw you were interested in Akiko Atakodo's video, i took the liberty to inform you that she posts to 2 discord communities: Heart Haven and Mongrel's Lair. Feel free to check them out, and why not take part on them. You are welcome.

Okay

Thancc

Cool and good.

Yey

#cardiophilia #cardiophile #heartbeat #female heartbeat #discord

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gravesung-moving · 8 months ago

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heartbeats separate moments ; slow, a steady build to the reveal of true form ( you are not all that you say, are you? ).

ba-dum - a step backwards, pivot-turning in place ; ba-dum - flicker of cinders gathering about them like a crown gone ablaze. hand, trembling, reaches to smear off the taste of blood from their mouth where maw bit to flesh ( crimson streaks, leaves a slathered stain from corner of lip up to their eye like a newfound brand ; an animal wearing a trophy ) . blue hues fixate, harrowed features softening into their usual tender-seeming look they always offer takiishi ( shall we name it anything other than an abject adoration? the look of the doe so fascinated with the hunter -- ) .

"... hey," soft, barely audible, as if suddenly shy, "... ah a'ways said blood looks good on ye, but..." ba-dum ; the strange mongrel moves with an eerie calm and grace, standing close ( too close, they smell of ash & blood ) , "... does it look good on me, too? be 'onest."

IN FRONT OF HIM, A wildfire that cannot be contained. in front of him the stranglehold of black smoke. in front of him sunlight, radiation, nuclear meltdown, something so much more beautiful than beauty as others see it.

adoration is met with hunger. pyromaniac hunger, swallow-a-burning-coal hunger. takiishi's hands come up toward the heat and all he sees is truth unfolding before his eyes, pulling out of its skin, evolving from seed to soul to solar flare. he wants to sear his eyes on them. he wants to break their skin. he wants them to turn his mouth to cinders.

❝ YES. ❞ his lips part, coating with that cloying ash-copper scent that boils the blood in his veins. ❝ ... BEAUTIFUL. KAEN. ❞

#ic.#strywoven #chikaen tbt.#uhhhhhhhhhh #body horror tw #mild?

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fourraccoonsinacoat · 1 month ago

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Mongrel Heart(Beats): Playlist & Story Index

Been kicking around the idea of making a playlist for Mongrel Hearts, since each chapter name is linked to a song. Then, started thinking about making a story index that lists which fic chapters cover which in-game missions/story beats.

Decided to combine those ideas, and thus here we are. There is a relatively decent chance I am the only person who will find this interesting. That's cool, we ball.

Playlist & Story Index Below Cut | Additions Ongoing

Fic Summary: Heinrix van Calox is a watchdog of the Inquisition. Bound by duty and fueled by a deep-seeded shame, he continues to serve the Imperium the only way he’s ever been allowed, on the tight line of a leash. Obedient and steadfast, Heinrix has always been eager to prove himself. And yet, no amount of accolades or praise will ever assuage him from feeling like a vile cur, simply grateful to not have been put down. Visenya von Valancius is a void wolf. Forced by circumstance into an existence where she has had to fight for every breath, she dreams of freedom from the tireless hunters who stalk her footsteps and seek her ruin. Thrust once more into a life she did not ask for, Visenya must now lead those who once saw her as nothing more than a mongrel. Both are strays in a war-torn galaxy, simply seeking a place to belong.

Chapter List, Playlist & Story Index

Rykad Minoris & Fallout

Chapter 1: Kill the Sun | Kill the Sun - Motherfolk

Chapter 2: Push it Down | Fine With It - Motherfolk

Incognito on Footfall

Chapter 3: Like I Never Left | Straight Through You - Bilmuri & ARIZONA

Chapter 4: Supersede All the Noise in Me | Willows - FLOYA

Chapter 5: Angling for the Throat | Jae Introduced | Mongrel - Kites & Powerlines

Chapter 6: Kill the Ghost | Kill the Ghost - Motherfolk

Drifting Voidship

Chapter 7: Cut the Lights | Lights Out - FLOYA

Kiava Gamma

Chapter 8: Thicker Skin | Thicker Skin - Sunsleep

Chapter 9: This Trauma Echoes | The Void Approacheth - Bilmuri & Summer Hoop

Chapter 10: Illusion | Illusion - Feelers

Chapter 11: The Hymn | The Hymn - FLOYA

A Long-Promised Conversation

Chapter 12: All That Could Happen | All That Could Happen - Moxy The Band

Chapter 13: World Stops Spinning | Neither Do I - Motherfolk

Flagship Freight Line

Chapter 14: Walk a Little on the Wrong Side | Forgiveness - Emarosa

#fic: mongrel hearts #heinrix x visenya #oc: visenya von valancius #rogue trader fanfiction #warhammer fanfic #heinrix fanfiction #mongrel heartbeats

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fair-dinkum-mechanic · 1 year ago

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I think that’s it now. I think when I go out with my work mums tonight I’m going to really seriously hurt myself. I can’t do it anymore. Each day for the last week something new and equally as painful has happened and my heart can only take so many beatings and I’m so fucking sorry I wish I was stronger and was able to weather the storm but I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I don’t want to punish anyone I just want the pain to go away. I don’t want to be scared and feel my heart trying to break out of my chest anymore. I don’t want to look in the mirror anymore and see myself and immediately be accosted with thoughts of “this happened because you’re not good enough. This person is angry and snippy with you because YOU DESERVE IT for being such a worthless, repulsive, unlovable, broken, poor excuse for air. In fact, why don’t you smash your skull open? So that all those stupid thoughts and feelings can zap themselves out of existence? You preach and gloat about being sensitive and emotional like it’s a good thing when it’s the worst thing you could ever do to people. You’re a pathetic, snivelling, repugnant little cunt and you have deserved death for a very very long time. It’s no one else’s job to make you feel better and you’ve failed at it yourself so just make this heartbeat your last one for fuck sake.”

I don’t know where I failed I don’t know what the fuck I did but I have felt my dead soul rattling around in me for a while and people have the RIGHT to be angry at me because how couldn’t they be? I’m a pathetic mongrel. I’m a disgrace. At BEST im an overgrown child with no fucking right to act like I’m worth what my peers are.

I need to be sent to my grave and I need to be sent to it right the fuck now. I KNOW nothing will get better. I’m worthless. And I can’t change that myself anymore.

God fuck I’m so sorry I gave all of my love I know I gave all of my love and I hope it was okay I hope it was worth something but me as a person I need to be scrubbed from the earth I HAVE TO BE AND IM IN SO MUCH PAIN AND NO ONE CAN BE GENTLE WITH ME THROUGH IT the best that will happen is that they’ll LOCK ME in a hospital away from my cat and the only things that can bring me any sense of distraction.

PLEASE HELP ME PLEASE JUST LOVE ME PLEASE . god please just someone please fucking make this stop please please fucking make this stop fuck please!!!!!’

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nutteu · 2 years ago

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a place for us, in the cradle of your lungs [Chapter V]

[AO3] [AO3 Chapter II] [AO3 Chapter III] [AO3 Chapter IV] [AO3 Chapter V] [moonsea series]

Jake finally came back to work, after incessant nagging from Khonshu. He charmed the secretary in the workplace into putting him back to the roster, and went on rampage in the night. Khonshu had commented that he was getting sloppy—reckless and hasty. But he got the job done nonetheless, so he didn’t think that Khonshu had the right to complain too much.

Anubis, the mongrel, came by right after Jake was done with his impromptu vacation. There was something different about him this time, Jake noticed. He touched Steven much more often, and he didn’t say much, but when he did, it was in the old language that Steven still nodded and babbled back to. He kept his irritation of feeling like he was out of the loop, and tried his best to be civil around the god. That bastard was, after all, taking care of Steven when Jake wasn’t able to.

It was just… there was this sense of foreboding that came with Anubis’ solemnity. He looked like someone running out of time, and Jake developed a habit of checking Steven over several times each time the man was within his vicinity, and after he came back from the outside. But Steven was alright.

Sure, he slept a lot more—a lot more. He ate less than what he used to, with Jake having to literally keep his jaw open so he could shove the meager food remaining on the plate. Sometimes he got fevers, but it wasn’t serious enough to be worrying. He usually came out of it after three days. But it kept happening, coming up to several times within a month, and Jake was ready to head into another month-long vacation if this continued.

It was when he was driving a knife right into someone’s gut, that he felt the familiar tug and the start of stinging pain around his lungs. It wasn’t the cigarette; Jake knew this much. Because this pain filled him to the marrows, and he ached with each breath he took. Steven, he thought with a heightening sense of frenzy and desperation. He didn’t care much about the carnage and the mess of blood and torn flesh he had left behind as he sped through the city towards the apartment.

The closer he was, the more painful it felt for him. His heart was pounding, his palms felt clammy, and he was seized by a fear that he was too late.

But when he kicked the door open, eyes feral and weapons at the ready, all he found was Anubis rubbing at Steven’s back gently. For a moment, Jake let the panic pass. But when the suit ebbed away from his figure, and he stepped closer to the bathroom, there was a fracture in his heartbeat when he saw the blood splattered on the sink like a gruesome rendition of a B-rated horror movie, and Steven coughing out even more from his mouth.

He wrenched Anubis’ hand away from Steven, and took the man into his arms instead. Steven looked surprised to see him, but the smile formed without preamble. His teeth were red, trails of blood falling on the sides of his lips. Jake tried to say something, anything, but all he could do was to cup Steven’s face with trembling fingers.

“I’m alright, Jake,” Steven then said, and Jake paused.

It was a complete sentence, uttered without stumbles, and when he took a proper look at Steven, there was a certain clarity in his eyes that had been missing beforehand. He frowned in disbelief, stepping closer into the space between them. “Steven?”

“Yeah?” Steven replied with a wet chuckle. “I’m here, buddy.”

“Steven—” he tried, then choked on thin air. He felt—overwhelmed, with emotions that he couldn’t even recognize. He knew relief, he knew fear, but the rest of it was unfamiliar. Yet they were present, so real in the thrum of his heart.

He pulled Steven into a bone-crushing embrace, breathing hard and fast into the crook of the man’s neck. Steven just laughed as he wrapped his arms around Jake. He was sweating, and his body was cold, but the beat of his heart was loud and clear against Jake’s chest and it was all that mattered to him.

“Ouch, ouch,” Steven said, then pulled back hastily as he coughed out even more blood into the sink. It looked like a murder scene, and it didn’t look like it was stopping anytime soon. So, Jake made himself useful and went to the kitchen to take a glass of water and a towel for Steven. “Anubis told me that it’d be painful, but I didn’t know it’s going be this much,” the man said after a while, heaving breaths and giving Jake a grateful smile as he took the towel to wipe his mouth and face.

“What is?” he asked, voice scratchy and rough as if he was the one who had been coughing up a storm.

There was no answer but a small smile, before Steven washed his mouth, and drank the water slowly. Anubis was standing near the door, watching them with undecipherable look that Jake was too afraid to find the meaning of. This didn’t have to mean something bad, after all. The sight of blood on Steven’s lips made him wanted to rip something apart with his bare hands, but the man had talked, clearly, instead of the childlike babbles he had done all this time.

Maybe—maybe this was akin to letting out the poison from the bloodstream. An agonizing, slow process towards a better end. Maybe this was a culmination of all the times that Steven spent his time sleeping, his fevers, his loss of appetite, and now this. Jake didn’t want to entertain any other possibility. Besides, Steven said that he was alright, didn’t he? Amongst Anubis' cryptic words, Khonshu’s demands, and Jake’s spiraling thoughts, what else he could trust but Steven’s own words?

They spent a long time in the bathroom, with Steven seemingly trying to cough his entire insides out to the sink. But the more blood that he spat out, the more that awareness climbed into his eyes. Jake waited for him patiently, bringing the chair into the bathroom for Steven to collapse to when he was too tired to hold himself up. There were a lot of discarded towels lying on the floor, all stained with red, and Steven’s shirt was ruined with it as well. But the pain around Jake’s lungs had all but disappeared, and Anubis was still looking at them as if seeing a funeral.

He tried to block out the third presence in the apartment, focusing more on tipping the glass of water into Steven’s mouth so he wouldn’t spill and make an even bigger mess. When the coughs had lessened, and Steven more or less looked like he was steady enough to stand on his feet without swaying, Jake stripped him naked and guided him to the bed.

Steven’s coordination was still a bit wonky to wear the clothes himself, either out of his condition or from the exhaustion from nearly hacking up his lungs. So, Jake dressed him, practiced and swift from experience. When he was done, he took a moment to change his own clothes.

“You are stubborn,” he heard Anubis say to Steven.

The man just chuckled weakly in reply. “You knew it since the start. No refunds, I’m afraid, mate.”

Anubis continued in that language that Jake didn’t understand, but Steven seemed to know what he was saying, because he replied within the same language. They glanced at Jake, then looked at each other. There was question in Anubis’ dark eyes, to which Steven replied with a small smile and a sentence that he said softly.

The god sighed, then, and leaned down to caress the side of Steven’s face, like he often times did. It looked ridiculous, because Steven’s head could fit into the mongrel’s palm, and it would be so, so easy to crush it. But he didn’t, and it made the gentleness he chose to dol out all the more profound.

“What did you say to him?” Jake asked after Anubis disappeared.

“Told him not to be a dick to you,” Steven said easily, and laughed when Jake shot him a disbelieving look. “I didn’t lie about this, promise.”

What did you lie about, then, little dove? He wanted to say, but kept it in the folds of his heart instead. “Sure, keep your secrets, then, cariño.”

Steven looked at him with a puzzled look, but the smile never went away from his lips. “What does it mean?”

“You’re not the only one who can keep a secret,” he replied instead.

The man laughed, and it was such a different thing from the childlike, pure laughter that he had all this time. There was a different nuance to it, yet it remained as something pleasant in Jake’s ears. Steven curled around him like he always did, staring up at him through long lashes.

“Good night, Jake,” he whispered, no more stutters.

Jake grunted out a reply, already closing his eyes. He heard a low chuckle before Steven’s breath evened out, and only then did he open his eyes to look at the other man. The image of Steven in the bathroom, covered in blood, was still stark and clear in his mind, and he tried to banish the thought by replacing it with this familiar sight of a serene, sleeping face.

This could mean something good, an anti-thesis to his fears. Steven could get better, after all, and he already was on his way of doing so. Perhaps, Anubis was away for so long to do something about Steven’s soul in the afterlife. The god seemed to be terribly fond of Steven; it wouldn’t be out of the possibility for him. Jake knew that he appreciated Steven’s courage and willingness to sacrifice himself back in the Duat, the very reason why he saved Steven from turning into dust, why he let the three of them cross into the A’aru, aside from the fact that Steven Grant had quite literally waxed poetic about Anubis as soon as he wasn’t in danger of being a sand statue.

Little idiot, bringing charm and sincerity everywhere he went, never thinking even once that not all people would be kind enough to let him go—

—never considering even once that Jake was one of those people, right now.

“Good morning,” Steven greeted when he woke up. “Breakfast?”

“Just because you can talk now, doesn’t mean you can yap all you want about boring shits I couldn’t give two shits about,” Jake warned as he got up.

Steven laughed, and followed Jake behind with slower steps, still so careful on his feet. The day went about like it usually did, this time with Steven chattering more than usual, only occasionally stumbling over his words, and shooting Jake a sheepish look when he did. He, also, coughed up another dollop of blood right in the middle of breakfast, and Jake had to clean the mess so early in the morning while Steven took it to the bathroom.

He leaned against the door frame, watching Steven throw a disgusted look at the thick blood on the sink. He didn’t understand why the man still had that reaction, considering that he had been in fights before. “You done?”

“Yep,” Steven said with a slight huff to his breath. “Bath?”

“You can’t shower yourself?” he teased, though he already stepped inside.

Steven looked down, shuffling with his feet, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “I don’t want to,” he whispered. “I’m used to you doing that for me.”

“Spoiled little princess,” Jake said with a sigh.

“I want to be spoiled as much as I can,” Steven grinned at him, and the way he said it made Jake pause for a moment, before he gritted his teeth and went to pull the shirt over Steven’s head. “Can you—” he hesitated a bit, tugging at Jake’s sleeves. “Can you get into the tub with me today?”

He raised an eyebrow, but discarded his own clothes regardless. He settled in the tub first, before Steven stepped in and sat between his legs. They had been naked together, before; in the bathroom, on the bed. But this time something was different, a charged tension that came from Steven’s surreptitious glance beneath his lashes, the way he hesitantly leaned back against Jake’s chest despite having done it a thousand times before. Perhaps, the clarity in his head made him revert back into his old shell of this shy, pushover person he had always been. But it didn’t explain his sudden request.

“What do you want, princess?” he asked flat out, not bothering with teasing when he was still a little rumpled from sleep and fatigue.

“Nothing,” Steven admitted, and there was honesty in his voice even if he was flushing to the tips of his ears. “I just want to spend as much time with you as possible, with proper consciousness, this time.”

“You sure you don’t have a hidden agenda?” he said, smirking a little as he glanced down to where Steven’s groin would be. The man just yelped and shoved his hands to cover his dick, despite the lilac bubbles having done the job fairly well. “You’re so easy.”

“No, you’re just a jerk,” Steven complained with a splash of his hand. This time, however, when he leaned against Jake again, he didn’t hesitate. He was a warm weight on Jake’s chest, hair wet and tickling underneath his chin. “I never got a chance to thank you, for taking care of me all this time.”

He hummed something as a reply, didn’t quite know what to say when it really came to this sort of thing. He could flirt and snark, sure, as those were his default mechanisms of dealing with people. But he didn’t think that he wanted to break the strange intimacy in the bathroom filled with the cloying scent of lavender and the traces of rust in the air. If this was someone else, Jake might have already flip them over and fuck them over the sides of the tub, and be done with it.

But this was Steven, who he had seen when the man was unable to say more than three words, when he didn’t even know how to feed himself, when he babbled endlessly with eyes crinkling even as Jake sighed and rolled his eyes in exasperation, when he was so helpless that he nearly cried when he couldn’t put on a shirt by himself. It was strange to ever think about Steven in the light of a stranger, now, as someone that Jake didn’t give two fucks about, as someone whom he didn’t want to hold and keep away from the goddamn fate.

Steven wasn’t a quick fuck in the bar whom Jake kept busy long enough so they wouldn’t speak; wasn’t a waitress that Jake flirted with, and choked with his cock to keep them from actually voicing out their desires to have a romantic relationship with him; wasn’t some doe-eyed stranger who was enthralled by him and wholeheartedly tried to have a proper, sentimental connection between them.

This was Steven, whom Jake had held in his sleep, had tried his damned hardest to save from being stuck in the afterlife for an eternity, had listened closely to when the man's words barely made any sense.

So, he listened.

“Back then when we took you out of the sarcophagus, when we went through Marc’s memory, I realized that it was you who had saved Marc when he couldn’t fight anymore,” Steven said, voice soft as he played with the lilac suds surrounding their bodies. He let out a pleasant sigh when Jake wrapped his arms around his middle carefully. “It must have been hard on you, to keep the worst memories of our mom. You and Marc, you both had dealt with miseries all your life, and even if it was your voluntary decision to work under Khonshu, I… I still want you to know that there’s more to life than what you think you’re made out to be, Jake.”

When he turned, Jake kept his arms where they were, holding Steven’s waist when he had secured himself in the new position. He cradled Jake’s face with soft, gentle palms; his gaze tender, his lips bitten red as he mulled over his words. He looked lovely, and Jake was suddenly very aware that he could no longer run from Khonshu’s and Anubis’ words.

Not when Steven was looking at him with fondness in his eyes, when the sadness etched onto his face was one he felt for Marc and Jake, when his warm breath hit Jake’s lips and he sounded so heartbroken as he said, “I’m sorry that I didn’t know, that I lived my life so obliviously, so blind towards what you have done for Marc and I. That- that was the reason why I gave up the fragment of my soul, so the both of you could be free. I think I’ve had quite a great life, especially after everything that had happened. Some memories hurt, but a lot of them gives me comfort. You are one of those memories.”

Jake freed one of his arms away, so he could thumb at Steven’s lower lip, feeling the soft yield of the flesh as Steven let him do it. “Then what about you?” he asked. “What happens to you? You were about to die that night—no, you asked for Anubis to take your life. And now, you’re tied to the afterlife, you’re coughing up your lungs, and you’re talking as if you’re saying farewells.”

Steven’s eyes crinkled in the half-moons that Jake had become so familiar with. “Nothing really gets past you, aye?” he said lightly, leaning in closer. “I’ll be alright, Jake. I’ll be alright after this—we will be. You saved me, and I want you to remember that. You have saved me. We can be alright, yeah?”

He wanted to believe Steven; he really did. After struggling with his new life and his newly-felt emotions, it was hard to completely deny the notion of his fondness towards the man. It might be something carved from desperation and selfishness, but it was there in the end—persistent and real, creeping under his skin and refusing to leave. You couldn’t just declare a war against fate for someone you didn’t care about.

And Jake did care about Steven, in his roundabout ways, filled with denials of plausibility of his feelings. It could mean anything, go in any direction, but that didn’t matter. One thing was clear enough at least: this was Steven Grant and this was someone Jake had known with his heart and mind; this was Steven Grant and he was Jake’s mess of an idiot.

The kiss that Steven pressed upon his lips was gentle, fleeting. But it was warm, and it felt like a thousand of feelings breathed into his lungs. He didn’t try to deepen the kiss, didn’t try to turn it into something filthy because this moment didn’t deserve a taint upon its purity. The simplicity of a touch to replace words that couldn’t be said.

“This isn’t a farewell,” Steven whispered against his lips, eyes closed, fingers still holding Jake with such care. “I’m still gonna be here, after all,” he said, moving his hand until he could place it above Jake’s heart. “I’m a part of you, the way that I’m a part of Marc, until the end of my time. I won’t go anywhere you can’t follow, Jake.”

His eyelids stung, again, and it was with a sort of detached realization that Jake finally knew what it meant. He wanted to cry, and though it made him ache, it was also a marvel to finally shed his tears for something so tender, instead of the pain and heartache of their childhood. Steven was whispering sweet nothings to him, thumbing the tears that Jake hadn’t noticed had fallen down to his cheeks. Amongst the whispers, he recognized words like ‘It’s alright, Jake’ and ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I’ll be here’. They could mean anything, they could mean nothing—but Jake chose to believe, this time.

He pulled Steven close, holding him with belief in his heart that they were alright—that they could be alright.

#moon knight #shiki writes #from ao3 #moonsea #jakesteven #jake lockley #steven grant

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nothingbutthenight · 1 year ago

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Kiara wasn’t a bad listener, she had been paying attention. She felt her heartbeat accelerate and something snapped. She was lit from within by a sudden burst of energy and she lowered her head and clenched her fist hard. “Listen Cinder" she bit out, still facing the wall. "I’m not a mind reader. I can only know what I’ve been told, and so far, I have received a lot of conflicting information and half answers.”

Her voice was low and rough as she tried to contain it.

“One of the very few pieces of straightforward information I do have is from the mouth of that girl during the broadcast; she very clearly stated that Salem controls grimm. And no information you have given, other than your statement two seconds ago, contradicts that.”

She turned to face cinder, her eyes wide under her tightly drawn brows, and blew out a short, hot breath through clenched teeth.

“Salem being grimm does not preclude her from being capable of controlling other grimm to the mind of an average outsider with very little to go on! I haven’t a fucking clue what Salem is! She’s a grimm! She’s ancient! She also owns houses and is apparently a bookworm. She’s extraordinarily dangerous and powerful and can do things like fuse human and grimm anatomy together and the gods only know what else, and must be at least as intelligent as we are to have held her own in this secret war for so long.”

She threw up her hand and pincer, and then let them drop back to her sides, rather painfully.

“That doesn’t paint any kind of a picture that makes sense to me, she could be capable of anything!”

Kiara turned her head to the side and redirected her furious glare to the floor before continuing in a quieter, but equally tense voice;

“Either little miss Ruby Rose doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talking about, or you have been lying through your teeth this whole time and I don’t have a clue which to believe. All I know is that the things she said were straight forward and made sense, and the things you say are anything but.”

Her head snapped back up. "Why am I even here anyway? All you want to do is taunt me and play with your little grimm friends while you sip your tea. Haven’t had any toys in the basket that were amusing enough to tempt you lately? Bored enough to pick up some random mongrel off the street and put some peanut butter on her tail? See how long she'll chase it in circles??”

Kiara tuned and started back towards the table to grab her cane, muttering hollowly;

“Salem isn’t even here. This has been a colossal waste of time.”

She snickered. In lieu of an answer, Cinder reached down to gently scoop up a silphe with her right hand—her human hand, as Kiara would have it. The grimm’s legs scratched like thorns as it crawled over her thumb, sharper than a real insect.

“No.”

Cinder turned around to lean against the sink, holding the silphe aloft; it perched on the tip of her thumb, delicately unspooling the skein of aura she’d spun for it. The black carapace glistened like oil when she tilted it to catch the lamplight better.

There was a kind of thrill to it, she thought, holding something that could kill her with one little bite, knowing that she could incinerate it just as easily. The security only found in mutually assured destruction.

“You know,” she sighed, gaze fixed on the silphe, “Salem can’t control grimm, either.”

Salem preferred to leave that unspoken, let people believe whatever they wanted, but Cinder knew the truth. She’d watched and listened and paid attention, and it hadn’t taken her that long to realize that Salem’s grimm did not obey her. They were part of her.

Over the years, Salem had taught her more—told her about the leys long before Cinder had the means to feel them herself, taught her how to recognize grimm hordes by their venation patterns, showed her how to propitiate one…

Not control. It was never about control. Grimm weren’t like humans.

The burble of boiling water inside the kettle was getting louder; Cinder turned back to let the silphe skitter onto the wall again, its movement erratic until it rejoined the marching line of its pack, and gave Kiara another unpleasant smirk. “She is one, I told you. And I don’t like repeating myself.”

#etruatcaelum #Kiara doesn't like verbal conflict at all #this is Not normal for her #she is just maybe. a tweency bit stressed.#the Unraveling begins . . .

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kitmoas · 3 years ago

Note

https://kitmoas.tumblr.com/post/677220058796277760/have-reader-or-kate-ever-almost-sub-dropped-like

Thanks anon, now i can't get kate experiencing a sub drop out of my mind. It would be so sweet to see wandanat going from mutt to you're such a good girl, you did perfectly fine in a heartbeat, especially after just a few months.

***Minors DNI*** **18+**

Warnings: alludes to sexual words and situations

A/N: This is the second half of yesterday's drabble! To get the entire thing read that HERE

The thoughts of the night before replayed in Kate's mind over and over as she laid on her couch, staring at the spinning ceiling fan. She felt numb, unable to gather her thoughts properly.

"Such a pathetic mutt, whining and begging for our attention. Do you think you deserve it, earned it?"

The mocking tone from Natasha is etched in her brain and she can't stop the feeling of dread washing over her. She knows that it's all part of the play but a part of her still feels scared that Wanda and Natasha only are keeping her around because of you.

"You are absolutely pitiful, can't even fuck a perfect little toy correctly. Shoulda left you on the street Bitch."

Kate couldn't breathe, the world around her was shrinking and she realized just how useless she was. Nothing but a good wallet, barely human.

"Maybe next time, Mongrel, you could actually do something good during our session."

The archer's breathing was shallow, and her deep ocean eyes were glazed over and unfocused. There was a steady flow of tears running down her face, soaking the baggy lavender shirt she’s wearing. She couldn't wrap her mind around why she was feeling like this. Nothing in the scene was different but here she was, unable to move or truly feel anything.

She was struggling so much trying to understand why she felt this way that she didn't notice Wanda and Natasha entering. The two of them having direct access to her private room where she stayed while she was at the compound.

The two barely had to look at each other to know what was happening. Wanda immediately kneels to get level with Kate, just barely catching her glossy eyes. "Hi, can I touch you?" The witch's voice is soft, and she smiles gently at Kate's subtle nod. Her magic is lifting her gently to sit her in her lap as the Sokovian herself moves to sit against the couch.

The witch's heart broke, blaming herself and her work ethic for this drop, knowing that she should have turned down the sudden mission last night. "Oh pretty girl." Gentle lips press against the archer's wet cheek, body rocking slowly.

Light footsteps are the only indication of the widow moving, padding around the room to pick up a blanket and a small weighted purple dinosaur stuffed animal. Natasha moves to sit in front of the two handing the soft items over to Wanda, but a small needy whine makes her hesitantly put her hand on the younger woman's thigh.

Wanda is already whispering praise into Kate's ear, calming her quickly but it's the ginger's voice that breaks her out of her haze. "Our good girl, my world’s best archer. Nobody is as quick on their toes or as brilliant with their ideas. You are so perfect and so amazing for us. If you let us, we're always here for you."

The archer's desperate hands claw at Nat, dragging her closer. The two older women share a look before cuddling up closer with the blanket wrapped tightly around their shoulders. Kate settles into the warm bodies that hold her, gripping at the dinosaur that you gave her in hopes that she can also feel your love as well. While she still wants to cry and curl up in a ball with Wanda and Natasha here the world didn't seem so scary, and she started to feel things again.

Requested Tag List: @simpfornatasharomanoff @simplysimping999 @yourtaletotell @s1ut4nat @simpforflorencepugh1 @8bitscarlet @theperfectlovestory

#kitmoas answers #k: TGU drabble #kate bishop #wanda maximoff #k: training grounds #marvel fanfiction #natasha romanoff #marvel wlw #kitmoas writes #kate bishop x reader #wandanat #wandanat x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader

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residents-of-the-darkforest · 2 years ago

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Dark Forest Resident: Glowingshadow

Aliases / Nicknames: Cosine, Uncle Cosine/Uncle Glowingshadow, The Wolf, Kit-Caretaker, Guiding Light

Gender: tom

Sexuality: homosexual-ace

Family: Raina (mother), Odin (father), Taiga (sister), Cane (brother), Wolveshowl, Rhythmpaw, Shutterpaw, Shadedview (nephews + adoptive sons)

Other Relations: unnamed mentor, Mouse (sister-in-law), Frosty (brother-in-law), Sweetpaw, Vanillapaw, Copperpaw, Crowpaw, Brewpaw, Foxscratch, Miststorm, Parsleykit, Mangokit, Pepperkit, Deerpaw, Lemonfin, Bugpaw, Bushpaw (temporarily in his care)

Clan: Slateclan (at death, Clan changed often)

Rank: warrior

Characteristics: very kind, chatty and friendly to any cat he meets, adores kits and apprentices, oftentimes appears in Clans with loner kits who need homes, only to disappear moons later, takes sadistic joy out of hurting abusive cats, has an immense interest in the unnatural and unknown, somewhat unpredictable in what he wants to do next

Number of Victims: 19

Number of Murders: 19

Murder Method: poisoning with deathberries, drowning, viciously attacking/maiming

Known Victims: Cane, Napoleon, Ceruleanshadow, Iciclecreek, Swiftprowl, Poppycharm, Vixen, Mongrel, Stag, Koisplash, Riverwhirl, Loonfeather, Starling, Hookfox, Stoatswipe, Ivoryspecks, Wisteria, Brushbeak, Citrustrail

Victim Profile: cats abusive to their mates, his brother, his brother’s mate

Cause of Death: killed by a patrol

Cautionary Tale: be wary of the harsh words you speak to your kits, for you may find them taken from your care

Story:

Cosine always loved his family.

He was always a very loving cat! He loved his mom, his dad, his brother, his sister. When he got older, he wanted to have a family of his own! He wanted to adopt some kits and give them all the love the world could offer. So when his brother’s mate was expecting, Cosine was ecstatic. Maybe a bit too ecstatic for Cane’s tastes, because Cane started getting suspicious over how excited Cosine was for the kits to be born.

When Shade and Wolf were finally born, Cosine rambled on and on to his brother about how his nephews were the cutest things he’d ever seen, and that he’d probably kill someone for them. He was always fascinated by death--he loved weird things, he’d chase centipedes around and observe Twolegs, even stealing some of their little accessories--death had always been an interesting subject to Cosine.

So maybe that’s why he was so eager to dig his claws into something one day… And that day came moons after Cane and Mouse had their second litter, Rhythm and Shutter.

His nephew, Wolf, came up to him to complain one day that Cane’s, quote, “[B]eing mean and yelling at ma, Rhythm, and Shutter for the littlest things,” and how he tried to tell him to stop but Cane only ore at his ear.

Cosine loved his family, so who was he to see them get hurt?

Cane trusted his brother a lot. That made it really easy to get him to come out alone with him for a walk, where he turned and lunged into Cane. He took him so easily by surprise, it wasn’t at all a fight. Yet Cosine kept digging his claws, watching the blood flow and feeling the heartbeat stop. When the adrenaline faded, he felt bad as the red dissipated from his eyes and he looked at his brother’s betrayed expression. Well, a bit bad.

But he needed to defend his family! So he dug a little grave and cleaned himself up, heading back to the family with the distraught news that his brother had run into the nearby Twoleg’s sheepdog and, oh, how he had tried to help him! But he couldn’t make it in time and had to lure the sheepdog away.

Mouse was too distraight to properly nurure the kits--Cosine wondered how much she did before. So he took the role of being a parent to his nephews. He taught Wolf how to use herbs, stole things from Twolegs for them as little gifts, and even found some very pretty vines and star-shaped rocks that matched Shutter and Rhythm perfectly once they got older!

But he knew it wasn’t safe for the three. So as Wolf and Shade reached their twelfth moon, He took the two and the kits to Dustclan.

The field-inhabiting Clan was the closest nearby, and the safest in his eyes. As he took the four there, he chose to stay with them as well. He took on the name Glowingshadow to fit in with the others.

It was there he met young Mistpaw, and their parents, Ceruleanshadow and Iciclecreek. They just felt like repeats of Cane, with a much more shy cat-- Mistpaw cowered at the slightest of movement, making Glowingshadow feel awful for her. So he chose to do something about it!

Ceruleanshadow was much harder to kill than Cane. But with Glowingshadow’s raw strength, he was able to hold the tom underwater, letting the river take his body away. It was a bit disappointing not seeing much blood, but feeling the struggling eventually stop felt rather nice too. He hoped maybe Iciclecreek would start to care for Mistpaw after the death of her mate, but instead she just became distant and barely even regarded her daughter.

So he encouraged Rhythmpaw and Shutterpaw to befriend the shy apprentice as he dealt with Iciclecreek a couple moons later. He needed to be sneakier on how to kill her, so while he ripped her neck open as usual, he did everything he could to make it seem like just some unfortunate accident where she was at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Seeing the two abusive parents made him realize, however...there’s probably other parents and mates out there who need to learn a lesson as well.

He left Dustclan after a heartfelt goodbye between his adopted sons, to go help others--and to enjoy the feeling of blood on his paws.

Napoleon, some egotistical kittypet with loner daughters, was his next target. The tom had an ego that his daughters couldn’t even live up to or be worth of his love, so Glowingshadow decided to teach him a little lesson.

All it took was a bit of deathberries in Napoleon’s outside meal, and the idiot didn’t even realize the difference. He spent a couple of moons visiting Vanilla and Neo, the tom’s daughters, before taking them to a Clan where they could be safe. He chose Cherryclan this time around, and left a bit sooner than usual after the annoying Poppycharm kept talking about her “disappointments” of kit, angering him enough to leave her in front of an abandoned badger den, having mauled her.

Copperpaw and Crowpaw were absolute delights to talk to, and he was glad to have cared for them before he left. He had found Brew, a young cat who was eager to talk and play, on his travels. They told him how their father, Swiftprowl, left them out there, saying it was a new game of hide and seek. After staying with the kit an entire night and no result, he promised he’d go find Swiftprowl and remind him of the game… And that he did, while forcing Swiftprowl’s bones to snap. He spent a couple more days with Brew, taking them back to their Clan and promising he’ll see them again someday.

Vixen wasn’t too special. Her son was Fox, a hostile and aggressive tom who hated his mother more than anything. He was also happy to listen to Glowingshadow and let him deal with his appearance-obsessed mother. The tom didn’t really seem intent on joining a Clan, but Glowingshadow’s kindness won him over, and Fox went to Dustclan with Glowingshadow, letting him have a touching reunion with his nephews before heading off once again.

Mongrel was the mate of a new mother. His growling and threats weren’t helping the kits grow at all, so Glowingshadow chose to force some deathberries down Mongrel’s throat when he was alone.

His mate couldn’t raise her kits on her own, so she pleaded Glowingshadow for help! He chose to help out with parenting, telling her everything he knew as he led her to Cherryclan so that she could have help in raising the kits.

It was the same for each death. He traveled around, found a cat who treated their mate or kits improperly, and properly dealt with them and helped the kits be happier.

That is, at least, until he met Lemonpaw. Lemonpaw was a bitter child that just hated anyone that came near him, but seemed desperate to please others. Glowingshadow growled as he learnt of the reasons why.

Citrustrail, a strong tom and deputy of Slateclan. Glowingshadow knew he couldn’t take on the tom by himself, so he set little traps around the territory, things that could tire Citrustrail out, so he could go in for the kill. As he plotted the demise of the Slateclan deputy, he made efforts to talk to Lemonpaw and get the apprentice to open up.

Lemonpaw eventually warmed up to him over time, despite the bitter apprentice not wanting to do anything with him at first. And then he was set to kill Citrustrail. Originally, it was to lead the tom aimlessly around the territory, claiming to scent a rogue, but Citrustrail caught onto his plan quickly, so he to just turn and attack.

Glowingshadow and Citrustrail fought a long, hard battle until the cream deputy collapsed of exhaustion, causing Glowingshadow to go in for the kill. As he ripped out Citrustrail’s throat, however, he was too busy in his maiming to notice the patrol that had been going around the borders, ready to dispose of the murderous warrior.

Additional Information:

--Submission by @umbranoxs

--Often visits Rhythmpaw and Shutterpaw’s dreams, not appearing to them or anything but just always watching over them. He does it for the other young cats he cared for too, but mainly visits Rhythm and Shutter the most.

--Loves to talk about his interests. He will infodump to you for hours. Unfortunately most of this is about things that are considered “creepy”, “strange” or “unusual”.

--Was excited to enter the Dark Forest, as that meant he could continue his dealings with abusive cats. Has likely caused some of the cats he killed in life to fade in death.

--Often has an eerily wide grin on his face. He’s happy to be here!

--Sometimes when he sees a cat he thinks looks very pretty, he’ll try his best to shoot his shot and then immediately backpedal if their personality isn’t a good one.

--Probably lingers around the daycare area a lot, he wants to be a cool uncle to the kits and apprentices down here too!

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legoshi-plz · 4 years ago

Text

Pretenses Part Five (Louis x Reader)

Summary: Louis is a spoiled prince and you are a clumsy maid. Prince! Louis x Canine!Dog! Reader.

Warning: NSFW (+18)

Despite Louis’ outwardly composed nature, inside he was in full blown panic mode.

He had just finished up yet another uneventful dinner with his father and his future bride; now it was time to return to his chambers. His chambers he hadn’t been in since this morning. His chambers where he was currently holding you hostage.

Louis stood in front of his door for who knows how long before finally opening it with great hesitation, preparing himself for your angry, perhaps even violent response. Instead he was greeted with.... silence. You were on the bed where he’d left you, sound asleep.

Louis couldn’t help the relieved flutter of his tail at the sight of your sleeping form.

You had curled under the covers, probably to keep warm in the cold air of his chambers, your form rising and falling peacefully as you snoozed. Louis approached you slowly, checking to make sure you were actually asleep before his hands flew to throw off his royal regalia.

Once free from the confines of his complex uniform, he was under the covers immediately. Bringing your snoozing figure into his arms. You didn’t move a muscle; it was evident you were a heavy sleeper. Louis already knew this from his time watching you as you took your midday naps in his chambers but he didn’t know it was to such a great extent. He shifted so that he could lay his head on your chest, arms encircling your waist. He listened to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, his breathing slowing down to match your own.

He was asleep in minutes.

////////

You awoke to a weight on your chest and the smell of Louis’ cologne surrounding you. When you opened your eyes, the brightness assaulted your vision, making you attempt to turn away but that attempt was futile.

The Prince, who definitely wasn’t there when you fell asleep yesterday, was laying directly on top of you with his head on your chest, arms in a deadlock around your waist. You were caged beneath him, his weight pinning you down. You contemplated screaming bloody murder, hoping you could shock him into letting you go and make a run for it but decided against it. You doubted he’d remember to lock the door behind him, that could possibly be an opportunity for you to escape. You slowly began trying to pull his long arms from you when you felt his grip tighten.

“Don’t even think about it,” Louis mumbled, nuzzling further into your neck.

“My liege, please stop this indecency. As rightful heir to the thrown, a lowly maid such as myself would only sully-

“How long did you practice that one? Is that what you were doing yesterday while I was gone? Rehearsing pleas so I’d let you go?” Louis chuckled, finally opening his eyes. Sleepy amber orbs met your own irises and you couldn’t help but notice how beautiful his brown eyes looked in the morning sun. They didn’t reflect the light but instead nearly consumed it, a complete contrast to the brown of his fur.

“You must be hungry? You haven’t eaten anything since yesterday, if that. I’ll call the kitchen and have them bring us something up. Breakfast in bed doesn’t sound too bad,” Louis bit his lip as his eyes drank in your form beneath him. He definitely looked hungry, yet for something other than food; his eyes were burning with barely contained lust.

“I-I have to go, my Prince. I have to perform my duties in the kitch-AH,” you were cut off when Louis sat up and brought you with him as he pulled you onto his lap to straddle him. You felt your fur prickle with embarrassment as you realized not only was he shirtless, but he also seemed to be only in his underwear, the dark blue embroided material providing a very thin barrier to the Prince’s most precious asset.

“What about your duties to me?” Louis hummed, rubbing his hands up and down the fur of your outter thighs. The top of your uniform was still very much ripped open, so you brought your arms up to cover yourself, the blankets you’d been curled under no longer providing you coverage.

“Ah ah ah, you should know better than to hide yourself from me,” Louis hummed, prying your arms from your chest. He leaned forward, his mouth capturing once of your hardened nipples. The feeling of his hot tongue on your sensitive peak sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“Pr-pr-princeee, pleaaaase,” you moaned lightly, your voice nothing more than a breathy whisper.

Louis ignored you, instead moving to the other peak while his hands found themselves back at your plush hips. He rocked upwards into you, his hard member making its presence know.

“Take these off,” Louis mumbled against your areola, tugging at your panties. When you hesitated, he simply sighed before ripping them off himself.

“My Pri-

“Shut up,” Louis groaned against your chest, the vibrations further stimulating your raised peak. Louis plunged his fingers into your arching cavern just as he had the day before. You felt your head swirl in embarrassment and arousal, the two emotions battling for dominance.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you? How long I’ve desired you?” Louis asked, his free hand coming up to cup your jaw. His eyes burned with such passion for you, it was hard to not look away.

“That’s it, ride my hand. Just like that,” Louis grunted and you hadn’t even noticed your pelvis had begun grinding into his hand to meet the thrusts of his fingers. Your body was moving completely on its own, anything to help relieve the pressure growing in your lower belly.

Suddenly, Louis ceased his movements, lifting you up slightly with one hand while he pulled his underwear down with the other. His member sprang to life, resting against his abdomen as it stood glistening with precum. Being a stag and royalty, it was natural to assume he’d be well-endowed but nothing could have prepared you for the vision that was his impressive length.

He took your hands in his own larger ones and wrapped them around his weeping shaft. He let out a soft “fuck...” as he guided your hands up and down. He let go once you found your own rhythm, no longer needing his assistance for such a simple act.

“You’re so good at this- too good, actually. Did you touch Azuki’s mutt like this? Huh?” Louis asked breathlessly, his death grip returning to your thighs.

“I already told you yesterday, we aren’t like... that...” you grumbled, swiping your fingers over his sensitive cockhead, causing a needy groan to tear from his throat.

“Then what were you two like? You were already letting that filthy mongrel close enough to scent you, it’d be nothing for you to get on your knees for him.” Louis said angrily and you suddenly remembered exactly where you were and, more importantly, who you were with.

No amount of pretty words and declarations of desire were going to keep Louis’ true nature at bay for long. He was vile and malicious at heart. You knew this. He’d proven it to you time and time again. So when was it finally going to register in your dumb little brain?

You released his cock immediately, and climbed off his lap and out of his bed. You headed straight for the door but Louis was faster, grabbing and pinning you against the very door you’d been trying to exit from.

“Why do you keep running away from me? Can’t you see what I’m trying to do here?” Louis groaned into the nape of your neck. It sent shivers down your spine and you resisted the urge to arch into him.

“You’re trying to control me, to manipulate me”

“I’m trying to love you.” Louis craned his head back to look into your eyes. He saw no warmth in them.

“You have a peculiar way of expressing your ‘love’, my lord,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Annnnd we’re back to the incorrect formalities. Every time I feel we’ve taken one step forward, you move three spaces back. Why do you insist on fighting me so? I know you feel it, I can’t be imagining this attraction between us,” Louis finished, the grip on you wrists that previously had you pinned against the door now residing so that he could caress your forearms with the pads of his thumbs.

“I fight it because I know my place. I’m a dog, your highness. Lower than any other Herbivore commoner, and amongst the unfavorable even within Carnivore spaces. Most of the animals around here think I should be banished for even working within the castle during the day, let alone catering to you.”

“Their opinions don’t matter, they have no authority here-”

“It does matter, your highness. Because once your infatuation with me ceases, which is inevitable, you will return to your fiancé, marry her, be crowned King, and produce heirs. And all I’ll have is my life as a lowly commoner. That’s the natural order of things.” You lamented, your voice feeling thick with emotion.

“So what, you believe your future is with Azuki’s guard dog? Popping out litter after litter for him until you die? That’s no way to live, he can’t commit to you. His life already belongs to another woman and that’s Azuki.”

“You don’t think I know that? I’m fully aware of the hold our future Queen has over him. I’m just grateful for every moment he chooses to share with me. Makes my life a little less lonely...,”

“I could make your life less lonely! I could do that for you, better than he ever could!” Louis was slightly begging now, he could hear it in his own voice but he was beyond the point of caring.

“Don’t you see I feel my loneliest when I’m with you? All you’ve ever made me feel was small, and stupid, and unworthy. Legoshi doesn’t point out how I misuse words just to remind me of how uneducated I am. He doesn’t point out how unrefined my taste pallet is or force me to eat food outside of the carnivore diet. He doesn’t drag me out of bed at night to look at some stupid star a million miles away on some balcony when I’m afraid of heights. He doesn’t tell me where I can and can’t go, who I can and can’t see, just because he felt like it. He doesn’t humiliate me every chance he gets! He doesn’t boss me around just because he can!” There were hot tears streaming down your face. You had been holding this in for a long time.

“I see...,” Louis said finally breaking the silence. He released you from his grasp and took a step back. He adjusted himself, tucking his forgotten member fully back into his underwear. Though he had a beautiful body envious to those of Gods, he seemed almost shy about his lack of clothing now.

He glanced at your tattered uniform before muttering a “wait here... please...”, and walking towards one of the humongous wardrobes in his room. He pulled out a pristine, new uniform and walked back over to hand it to you.

“I kept a lot of these on hand, in case you ever wanted.... a more comfortable bed to lay your head at night...” Louis’s voice had never seemed so clouded. You silently accepted the uniform.

“You have my deepest apologies for my behavior. Such veracity was never my intention. I hereby relieve you of all obligation to me. You may return to the kitchen or to the gardens or to somewhere new if you like. Whereever you choose to go is fine, I’ll notify Stallworth of my approval. I...” Louis hesitated, finally bringing his eyes up yours.

“You’re free to go.”

/////////

A/N: I finally know how I want this story to end so hopefully they’ll only be two more parts for this series and it’ll reach it’s completion! Also thank you all again for 1K!

#beastars #beastars louis #beastars louis x reader #louis x reader #louis x you #louis #beastars Louis x you

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