#not a huntress on the prowl

[thesirenisles]

Mars’ Warriors

𓃭 aries 𓃭

✨💥planet energy, mythology & astrology obsvs✨💥

Aries Sun, Aries Rising, Venus, Mars

mars dominant, mars in the 1st house

Mars ruled.

Mars- Ascendant aspects, Sun-Mars Aspects

Strong Mars placements, Aries Stellium

✨💥“Her enemies had fallen. Sanguine showers painted the Earth a ghastly ruby hue. Wailing cries of defeat created a victorious symphony of which she savored…. cackling up at the heavens.”𓃭✨💥

Do not steal any of my original work & writing. Photos are either from Pinterest or collaged by me. All rights reserved. © 2024 The Siren Isles | Leave a tip if you enjoy!

✨Majestic Martian,

Ruled by the blood-red planet of Mars, you blaze a path on this Earth with an unwavering air of confidence.

✨💥Regal is the word that comes to mind.

Never needing reassurance, you literally believe you have already won before ever touching the battlefield.

Mars has blessed you with an innate, instinctual battlelust... an energy that inspires some, frightens others, but entrances ALL.

While everyone else contemplates... you act. You win the battle and even after you've won... you're still not satisfied.

✨💥You crave the next battlefield.. another King to slay.. another display of your hard-earned glory and greatness.

Even though January starts our calendar year, March begets Spring, the season symbolizing the beginning of life. Is it no surprise this month is named after your planetary ruler and the beginning of the zodiac?

Mars the planet is named after the Roman God of war and battlelust (Ares to the Greeks, Sekhmet to Ancient Egyptians) The Greeks deemed him the spirit of battle and child of Zeus and Hera.

With this energy, you have a natural, primal and intrinsic ability to tap into pure... red... RAGE. ✨💥 𓃭

While it sounds a bit frightening, this manifests as an incredibly useful gift in so many avenues of life. A Martian or Aries will always be ambitiously setting goals, achieving them, and writing more before they can catch a breath.

✨💥You have the spirit of a winner. You do not even fathom the thought of failure.

You move through life aware of the power of every single person in your immediate space, ready for someone to challenge the crown that you bled for.

This may be due to having literal experiences being attacked, bullied, and just… bothered. Your energy is akin to Plutonian/Scorpio, whose ancient ruler is Mars.

The element Fire clarifies and you are Cardinal Fire! You're literally blazing the trail. 🔥

A natural debater and concise communicator, you often find yourself defending yourself and others. (Always going to clear the room! Esp. to defend the ones you love. I love this for you all).

You have probably been admonished for your bold nature and aggressive style of communicating by adults, teachers, and maybe even... employers.

✨💥But, you are just being real. Your energy thrives in authenticity.

You hate being given orders and have probably fought hard to get into a career with relative freedom... this could manifest as entrepreneurism or content creating.

✨💥 She who mauls... 𓃭

The Mythology of Mars

While attempting to gain understanding of the energy of this sign and pIanet, I discovered the very simliar origin story in the Ancient Egyptian, Sekhmet, ("She who is powerful"). The goddess is depicted with the head of a female lion and ruled the desert sun, war, total chaos, and healing. I do want to clarify. This is not a male lion with the extravagant afro (symbol of Leo.)

Sekhmet manifests as a female lion because they are the fierce protector and huntress within the pack or pride, literally embodying primal female rage.

A female lion mauling is much like aftermath of a Martian or Aries temper explosion. It's not always a defensive energy, but a prowling one where the Martian sets its' sights on an easy mark.. or prey.

This could be a person or a task.

Egyptian mythology states she was created from the literal wrath of the sun God, Ra.

✨💥As the story goes:

Disappointed with the ungrateful treachery of men, Ra conspired with Set, God of Chaos to harness and manifest the wrath in which he felt... creating the embodiment of female rage, Sekhmet.

The stunning maiden possessing the spirit of war, is unleashed upon the people of Ancient Egypt, mauling anyone in her path until the waters of the great river ran...red.

Sekhmet was insatiable and her bloodlust lasted days.. She literally maniacally drank and gorged herself on the blood of the people. (Think: Akasha, Queen Mother of Vampires, in "Queen of the Damned")

Ra attempted to stop her, but being a daughter of the Sun... his powers had no effect. This drunken slaughter lasted until Thoth (Mercury to the Romans, Hermes to the Greeks) God of Trickery finally convinced her to drink wine under the guise of blood. The Goddess drank and fell asleep, calming the spirit.

✨💥I believe this is a valuable lesson anyone with dominant Mars energy has already learned quite a few times. You must utilize caution and strategy before rushing in.

✨💥THE ROMAN CIRCUS

On one hand, this is bad betch, rockstar, DIVA energy that can cosmically entrance the senses.

On the other... it can get a bit delusional…

✨💥 When I think of Aries energy, I think of the Roman Circus... (The Circus Maximus: Chariot Races, Gladiators, Live Animals, and Drunken Splendor.)

The event lured in many..under the guise of a celebration and glory. In reality, it was a grotesque sacrificial blood offering.

✨💥 To win the Roman Circus... was to suffer and harm many others. So, was it really a win at all?

This can be applied to the life struggles for some Martians or Aries who pursue a person or thing that is projecting a false but glorious image with everything they’ve got.

✨💥 I once knew an Aries sun who would always fall into silent competition with others girls because of just ONE Libra male in our social circle.

The Libra was a shameless flirt and seemingly a ladies man. However, he was very nonchalant towards the Aries sun... unresponsive to her direct energy. (Air sign men🙄)

She attempted numerous times, throwing very unsubtle hints sprinkled with arrogance. She knew that she was beautiful and wondered why he did not respect it.

✨💥 As beautiful as she was, she could not take the rejection. Aries HATES to lose. She needed to win.

Unbeknownst to the Aries sun, the guy was actually in the closet! Hiding his sexuality, he would only show his interest to women he knew weren’t interested... It was all a show and he was only projecting for societal benefits!

I share this story because I see this re-enacted amongst Martian and Aries women too often.

✨💥 In the spirit of battle, you set your sights upon who you deem as the most masculine man/woman or the one with the most options... because you want them to choose you above all.

You need to win. He becomes your Roman Circus. 𓃭✨💥

(Think: ariana grande & other people’s man; 1H mars 👀)

This happens to Martian men too… often rushing into a woman’s life before reading the fine print… only to have a cataclysmic collision of short-lived passion. 🫣

While I do applaud healthy competition, the female Martian complex often leads towards the Aries woman being trapped in a mothering role supporting a loser she only got because he used to be “the hottest guy in her area and everyone wanted him". (Giving major: Peaked in highschool mental vibes🤮)

✨💥You have a natural need to asess and rank a room according to power... or perceieved power. Badly aspected or unevolved Mars & even Pluto can make you exert force over those you deem weak.

However, those you perceive as powerful or heavily sought after seem to capture all of your romantic attention.

You want to conquer the most manly man and be the fierce queen at his side.

However, this desire comes from a need to feel glory. So people can become trophies… i.e. trophy wife or trophy husband.

HOWEVER, The problem with a "100% manly man… Toughest Hood Niiga… Greek God" archetype is that most men with these aesthetics did nothing to really gain them because they’re born handsome or are literally aware of the power of their own aesthetic!

Because your assertive energy is so direct and rivals that of a man at times… you can attract those pretty boys who are benefiting from male-pretty privilege & female sexual projection (i.e. the hottest and buffest guys girls assume will be the most sexual etc. NATE JACOBS CORE LOL)

✨💥Always remember… a less capable man is going to overcompensate!

He’ll be a knock-off designer... a fake… a fraud... and I am sorry to say, but I feel the biggest risks are (an unevolved Aries😭, Libra, Sags, GEMINI or Leo men...)

Not all of them, but they do have the tendency to exaggerate or be performative with their manhood. Pisces does this too, but they are not fooling an aries LOL.

✨💥This can become that gross Mommy and Son energy I mentioned. Eventually... if they are lucky.. the Martian can snap out of their bloodlust daze to realize this guy was just acting... Any additional mental manipulations is what can create a toxic bond which is draining over time.

This relationship dynamic will be fun at first but it fizzles out when you realize he has the maturity of a child!

✨💥Run away from the man who puts on the show, ladies! It's what I call.. the Roman Circus.

With this energy, you can definitely be a bit overbearing when you are trying to show that you care. This is never minded too much by those who know your fiercly loving heart.

✨💥 You are a queen! Remember that what’s meant for you does not always have to be won over. It can manifest organically!

You are multi-faceted. Embrace diplomacy and take time to contemplate decisions like your sister sign, Libra.

Your Martian sibling, Scorpio also teaches the lesson of patiently waiting and observing the situation before action.(No one is plotting like a Scorpio Mars 👀)

However, a Martian never stays down for long and always bounces back improved from life’s perils!✨💥

✨💥 Aries vs. Scorpio

Scorpio is a water sign, balancing out the fiery energy creating warm and inviting waves to lure you in.

Aries is a fire sign finding natural comfort in its sizzling Martian ruler and Solar energies... VA VA VOOM HOT..

✨💥The spirit of war lays waste to the lands and the God of the Underworld waits patiently to collect the souls.💥✨

𓃭

I believe Aries are our public leaders, change makers, warriors, and fierce inspiration. Their protective maternal energy is inherent and divine.

Sekhmet was equally feared and adored!

The likeness of the goddess can literally be found today in Egyptian art and architecture guarding the Pharoahs.

Much like Sekhmet and Ares, both Martian signs are an unstoppable force once in motion.

✨💥In the 1st house, Mars defines the personality and appearance. A perfect example is the feline-faced Nicki Minaj (Mars in the 1st house) on the left can be seen in what appears to be a Sekhmet inspired headress with lioness ears.

On the right… her Roman Circus🫣🙊😂(other 1H Mars women are Taylor Swift and Ariana Grande. Both have infamous love history!!)

✨💥I can literally hear Nicki’s iconic maniacal laughter… it legit sounds like what I’d imagine of blood-thirsty, Sekhmet after she’s slayed a Kingdom!

This can get a little egotistical… but she IS a queen. 🤷🏾‍♀️

I love my Martians though. You guys are so inspiring and honestly age like fine wine!! The youthful fire within you never really stops burning.

✨💥Be sure you are a productive force and not destroying all that lays in your path!

Thank you for reading! Wishing you blessings! ✨💥

@thesirenisles | masterlist | Enjoyed? Support!🧜🏾‍♀️

[dragongirlintestines]

A whole adventuring party finds themselves outmatched in my lair. Really, who wouldn't be.

Unfortunately for them, I tend to be hungry when I wake up, and despite what they might want to believe, adventurers are generally made of meat. Really, an ideal meal for a dragon to wake up to.

(fatal vore, gore, unwilling prey, sexual content, noncon)

I've already circled around them, cutting off their escape route and forcing their healer and mage to beat a hasty retreat, throwing off their casting.

The heavily armored one seems to want me to keep my attention on him, and I'm fine with that. He won't last long, certainly not long enough for the archer to find a spot to shoot from, nor for their spearwoman to find any weak spots in my scales.

I think I'll show that knight what he's up against, just to see the party's reaction. His sword is a decent piece of work, but nothing fantastic, so I have no qualms about catching the blade in my claw and shattering it as he takes his next swing.

Crystalline and pure, the sound of hardened steel shattering like glass rings through the cavern, and I drink in the terror as the ragtag band of adventurers calculates just how in over their heads they are.

While he's recovering from the shock of his blade shattering, I take the time to bat him aside like a bored cat, turning my attention to the spearwoman attempting to circle my flank. She wasn't expecting my gaze to fall upon her so soon, and I can see the terror in her eyes as my jaws descend. I can taste the blood on my tongue, mingled with the iron and oil of her mail. It's a pungent, bitter mix, but not entirely unpleasant, enjoyable as one might find a strong tea. My throat rumbles in delight as toned muscles reflecting years of training slide down my gullet, her thrashing, desperate struggles pleasantly kneading my insides.

The knight has regained his senses by now, but at this point, any combat discipline the group may have had is shattered. They all watched in terror as I devoured their comrade, and they know it's only a matter of time before they meet a similar fate.

My gaze likewise lingers on their figures, picking out my next course. The fighter was a delicious starter, I think, but I could go for something lighter, more delicate. The knight will be the main course, he's far too dense to be anything else, and peeling his armor will be good fun. The healer, well, she looks fatty and sweet and utterly terrified at the prospect of becoming a meal, so I'll save her for dessert.

That leaves the mage and the archer. The mage seems to be taking her sweet time channeling something, so I might just let her keep at it for now. Which means the archer is my next course.

A swift wingbeat staggers the knight again, putting him flat on his back, and propelling me towards the succulent huntress. A hasty shot glances off my scales, before I fall upon her. My claws clasp around her, tearing into her light armor, allowing me to easily tear it away from her form. Blood splatters the nearby wall as my talons strike deep, and the sweet sound is screaming fills the air. My tongue lashes out, wrapping her up in its cruel embrace, and I taste the delicious flavors of blood and oiled leather. She writhes in its grasp, but her struggles are futile as the muscular appendage pulls her to the back of my gaping maw. Her body folds in half as she slides backwards down my throat, and I take the opportunity to stand up on my hind legs and trace her bulge all the way down my gullet, before she settles into my stomach with her ally.

"Now it's time for the main course," I muse aloud. I wrap around on myself, serpentine in my motion, prowling like a cat, before pinning the knight to the ground under one claw. An idea strikes me, cruel and brutal. I gently lift the knight up to my jaws, holding him by the scruff of his neck. Any sense of honor he might have had is long gone, and he thrashes against his fate. But I will not swallow him immediately, not yet.

My jaws close gently, tapping my victim in a cage of wicked teeth. I can feel his feet starting to slide down the back of my gullet, but he is doing his best to avoid slipping. No matter. Deep within me, I feel an organ in my chest compress, and a familiar heat rises in my throat.

The screams of a burning man fill the air, mingling with the scent of roasting muscle and rendering fat. The oily flavor drips down my gullet, and I relish its taste. Leather straps and clothes char to cinder, and the metal plates of the knights armor glow white hot as they are bathed in flame. My tongue flicks into slots between armor plates, peeling them from seared flesh. One by one I spit the still glowing metal pieces to the ground, taking my time enjoying my charred treat.

One final boot drops to the ground with the muted *thud* of hot iron, and I allow the blackened morsel to be gently pulled down the back of my maw into my guts. Upon its entry into my stomach, I am rewarded with several pleasurable kicks from the other occupants.

Lighting crashes from across my lair, dancing through my scales and leaving tingling paths in its wake. It stings, and I look over to see the mage, staff outstretched, staring at me.

"Ah, the little goddess seems to have overestimated herself," I tease, settling into a stalking crouch as I prowl towards the robed woman. I note that her healer companion seems to have slid away while she had my attention drawn, and I realize I've left the exit unguarded.

Not that it matters for long. In the mage's panic, I see her eyes flicker over to something, or someone, and my tail lashes out at where I can see her focusing. Sure enough, I am rewarded with a gasp as my tail encircles my soon to be dessert.

"two tender little mages left..." I purr, stalking towards my next victim. "Oh, I've really spoiled myself now."

The morsel before me can't help but tremble in terror. A muffled scream emanates from my belly, and something lurches, sending pleasurable tingles down my body. This is going to be delicious, I think to myself.

I swipe my claw forwards, tearing through the fragile fabric of the mage's dress. It falls away like tissue, revealing the succulent, tender body underneath. Her scream echoes through my lair, the perfect pitch of terrified prey, simultaneously harmonizing with another shriek from the morsel wrapped in my tail.

"No need for that," I growl, as I stuff the tip of my tail into her mouth, muffling her screams. The healer writhes against my grasp, her impotent moans soaking around the tail stuffed down her throat. "You'll get your turn."

I turn my attention back to the nude mage before me. She's quivering oh so adorably, barely making a move to flee as my tongue wraps around her waist. I take my time drawing her back into my jaws, savoring the deliciously sweet taste of fear. Now that the threats are dealt with, I want to play with my prey. I close my jaws gently around her body, entrapping her fully within a cage of teeth, before I turn to the morsel in my tail.

I withdraw my tail from her mouth, a strand of saliva trailing between them, before, with another swift motion, I toss her to the floor before me. One swift strike, and her robes too fall away like autumn leaves. Her body is soft, well rounded, with plenty of fat padding out her abdomen. Tantalizingly tender. She whimpers and tries to cover herself with her hands. Such a cute instinct, really.

I open my maw, using my tongue to rotate the victim inside so she and the healer can look into each other's eyes, before I lower my head to the floor. The mage reaches, crying out in desperation for the healer to save her. It's adorable, really. Two doomed meals reach towards each other, fingers just grazing, before, with one quick gulp, they are separated again. The cry of despair filling my cavern is heavenly, as is the feeling of the mage's slender form sliding down my gullet. She's in shock, barely struggling as she is escorted to her tomb.

As the mage reaches my stomach, I slide my jaws slowly around my dessert. Such soft flesh deserves to be played with, and I toss her about with my tongue as I lift my head from the ground. Meanwhile, my stomach has begun to surge and clench around the struggling forms in my guts. A wave of pleasure washes over me as the surviving morsels coordinate an assault on my digestive tract. In response, I let out a satisfied growl, shaking the woman in my jaws. Shortly thereafter, I feel something snap as my belly delivers retribution for the assault.

Simultaneously, the morsel still waiting to be swallowed has my tongue's attention. The tip of that muscle plays over her curves, teasing moans and noises of protest from her. The probing tip traces around sensitive nipples, lapping up their oily flavor, before slowly delving between her thighs.

My victim thrashes, but as she does so, I close my jaws, allowing my teeth to pin her arms with a gentle reminder, drawing just enough blood for fear to hold them in place. My tongue laps at her sensitive core, eliciting more moans of protest and pleasure. It's quite cute, really, and soon, despite herself, I find her body pressing into my taste buds.

As her motions and vocalizations reach a fever pitch, I press in deeper with my tongue, while lessening the pressure on her arms. She grinds, hard, desperately trying to reach climax, not realizing that I'm beginning to swallow. She bucks, in a fit of lust, before the realization hits. My throat engulfs her in its fleshy grip, pulling her inexorably down. I can feel her writhing within me, her body wracking with pleasured convulsions a moment before sinking into my belly.

Ahhh.... A whole five course meal, still fighting the inevitable in my guts. I roll onto my back, enjoying the panicked motions of my victims as they try to reorient themselves. I turn my tail on myself, the tip toying open a slit between my thighs, and begin to tease. My belly churns, ravenous, as I feel hands and feet press desperately against my inner walls, coordination giving away to panic as acid begin to sear tender flesh. I relish the sensation of finishing off a filling meal, and plunge my tail deep as I feel several cracks in quick succession, followed by a scream. Another plunge of my tail leaves my body shivering, further helping to massage digestive juices into my screaming, thrashing prey. Something caves, a ribcage or a skull, and one morsel gives up the fight. Another stroke of my tail and my body is wracked with orgasmic convulsions. Two more wet crunches, and the wave resounds through my core, driving my pleasure to new heights. One final clench, and the last morsel is churned to a bloody mess in my guts. Slowly, like waking from a coma, sensation returns to my limbs as pleasure recedes, replaced by the satisfying flow of a meal slowly slipping into my intestines. It's going to be a lovely evening.

[bitterrobin]

You know what I've realized these past several months on Tumblr and just...years of consuming content?

It's pretty rare for the fandom to acknowledge Gotham as a city. A real, living city with people in it. Like, sure we always get cutesy posts about Batman or the others from outside perspectives or fics that include interesting ocs (I love u if you do that btw).

But what I mean isn't that. What I mean is: does anyone think of Gotham and its citizens as actual people? Because I've sure seen kind of the opposite.

I see constant arguments or heavily biased (mostly misinformed) posts regarding what Bruce does and how the Batman helps the city. That his riches would get lost in corruption and no one can save the city unless there's violence. You could try and make the argument, sure. But we've seen time and time again in comics that Bruce uses his money to the benefit of the city. We've seen in comics that he employs people who are disadvantaged and gives them opportunities. People know Bruce Wayne gives jobs and treats his employees well. He donates heavily to charities, creates his own organizations, funds Leslie Thompkin's clinic, and consistently updates the safety of his own buildings. People (at least post-Crisis) would know that Bruce Wayne did everything he could to save Gotham after the Cataclysm earthquake/No Man's Land - that he went up against Congress. Of course, not everyone would like Batman. Not everyone would trust the Wayne name. They'd see a stranger who prowls nightly and may or may not rescue you. They'd see the privilege of an old rich name who gets to exert his influence over the city. If you go to him for help, you go to him with the fear, and anticipation of rejection or with the knowledge that he will be safe.

I've also seen the (imo) ridiculous notion that Crime Alley citizens would trust the Red Hood. Maybe some would now, after the reboots and actual comic book evidence that he's doing something. But I cannot fathom living in a city with such heavy crimes occurring and then trusting what is essentially a cop. People don't know the Red Hood. They don't know Jason Todd. They would only know: 1. he has tried and succeeded various times to take over organized crime and drug routes 2. he can and will kill if he sees it fit. In some people's eyes, he would be a cop with even less judicial oversight. In some families, he would be the killer of their breadwinner, of their fathers or family members or lovers. A man with a gun. Eyes without a face. If you go to him for help, you go to him for blood.

This doesn't even begin to lay out the insane amount of vigilantes who live/operate in Gotham. The Batman is not the only figure. The Red Hood is not the only figure. If you boil down Gotham to only the conflict between these two characters, you miss the nuances and varied opinions of the city by miles. If you boil down Gotham to just Batman-affiliates, you miss even more.

For every person who doesn't trust Batman, there's someone who'd prefer Huntress. For every child who lives in fear but can't trust an adult, there's Robin or Batgirl. For an abused woman, there's other women out there who help: Catwoman or Black Canary or Holly Robinson. There's people who'd never trust a vigilante but want safety, they'd have Leslie Thompkins (who operates in Crime Alley) or Lucius Fox who could give them a job.

Not to mention, Batman is very obviously white. There would be some people who would rightfully mistrust white men, and would prefer figures like Orpheus or Onyx or Batwing or the Signal or Huntress (post-N52). There's the Creeper, who would be terrifying but some might prefer the monster over the man. There's Ragman, an explicitly Jewish vigilante who was literally called the Tatterdemalion of the Oppressed and trusted by the poor and homeless. There's Batwoman, Mother Panic, Spoiler, Nightwing, Red Robin, Azrael, Bluebird, the enigmatic idea of the Oracle, Anarky, Ghostmaker, Gotham Girl/Boy, Catman, Alan Scott-Green Lantern, Wildcat.

Hell, maybe someone who lives in Gotham would just straight up trust Superman or the Flash or Wonder Woman more than anyone else. Maybe they'd never once trust someone acting for a perceived view of justice and would just trust an employer like Two-Face or the Riddler or any mobster.

I'm stressing my point here: when you write anyone who lives in Gotham City, keep in mind that they don't know they live in a comic book world. Secret identities are foreign to them, they only know the base actions of each vigilante. Each person's opinion will heavily vary. Every experience colors their view of the city and vigilantes as a whole. Just, idk, widen your horizons and consider about what someone living in a place like Gotham would really think.

To that end, read the comics!!! Research actual cities!!! Take in experiences and history!!! It's all interesting and just adds so much more.

You want one comic that shows Bruce helping Gotham and the various views of Gothamites, read Gotham Knights #32, published in 2002 and titled "24/7." Read it online illegally if you have to!!

[horeformilfs]

Rescued From the Nightmares

Miracina x Fem! Reader

TW: Blood, Mentions of ED Behaviors, Mentions of Poison and Torture

Liniștește-te, îngeraș. Ești în siguranță = Calm down, little angel. You're safe

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

Amidst the dense forest, Alcina Dimitrescu and her daughters, Cassandra, Bela, and Daniela, prowled gracefully, their senses sharp and instincts honed for the hunt. The crisp air carried whispers of prey, but something else lingered—a foreign scent, unfamiliar and intriguing.

Bela's keen nose twitched as she caught wind of it, her brows furrowing in curiosity. "Mother," she murmured, her voice a soft melody in the twilight, "do you smell that?"

Alcina, towering and regal, nodded, her crimson lips curling into a predatory smile. "Yes, my dear. I've noticed it too," she replied, her golden eyes gleaming with intrigue. "Let us follow it and see what secrets this forest holds."

With a nod from their mother, the Dimitrescu daughters ventured deeper into the woods, their steps silent and purposeful. Alcina's directive echoed in their minds—explore, hunt, but remain vigilant.

Bela suggested they split up to cover more ground, a notion that Alcina entertained. "Very well," she conceded, her voice carrying authority softened by maternal concern. "Bela, Cassandra, you shall pair up. Daniela, you are with me."

And so they dispersed, weaving through the shadows with practiced ease. Bela and Cassandra navigated the labyrinth of trees until they stumbled upon a clearing, where a young woman lay unconscious, her form draped in a cloak of darkness and blood.

Cassandra's brow furrowed in concern as she knelt beside the fallen figure. "What do we do, Bela?" she asked, her voice a whisper in the stillness of the night.

Bela hesitated, her gaze flickering between her sister and the stranger at their feet. "We bring her to Mother," she decided, her tone resolute. "She will know what to do."

They carried the unconscious woman back to the agreed meeting point, where Alcina and Daniela awaited their return. Alcina's gaze narrowed as she took in the sight before her, her maternal instincts tinged with caution.

"Who is she?" Alcina inquired, her voice a velvet whisper laced with authority.

"We found her while exploring, Mother," Bela explained, her voice steady despite the weight of uncertainty.

Alcina regarded the stranger with a measured gaze before nodding in agreement. "We shall bring her back to the castle," she decided, her voice commanding yet gentle. With practiced grace, Bela transferred the injured woman into Alcina's arms, their journey back to the castle beginning in silence.

The grand halls of Castle Dimitrescu welcomed the returning huntresses with an air of quiet anticipation. Alcina's wife, Miranda, awaited their arrival, her presence a calming anchor amidst the storm of their nightly endeavors. As the Dimitrescu daughters approached, Miranda greeted them with a warm smile, her gaze flickering with curiosity.

"How was the hunt, my darlings?" Miranda inquired, her voice a soothing melody in the cavernous hall.

Cassandra's lips curved into a satisfied smirk as she recounted their exploits, her words painting a vivid picture of the night's escapades. But Miranda's smile faltered when her eyes fell upon the unconscious woman cradled in Alcina's arms, her brow furrowing in concern.

"What happened?" Miranda asked, her tone laced with worry as she turned to Alcina for answers.

Bela stepped forward, her voice steady as she explained their unexpected encounter in the abandoned base. Miranda listened intently, her expression softening with understanding as she absorbed the tale.

Alcina, ever composed, interjected with a gentle reminder of the woman's injuries. "Miranda, she is in need of your expertise," she stated, her voice a velvet whisper tinged with concern.

Miranda nodded, her resolve firm as she accepted the responsibility thrust upon her. With a graceful motion, Alcina transferred the unconscious woman into Miranda's waiting arms, their gazes locking in silent reassurance before Miranda disappeared down the dimly lit corridors, her burden cradled close to her heart.

Left alone with her daughters, Alcina's focus shifted to the task at hand. "Clean yourselves up," she instructed, her voice firm yet gentle. "Dinner will be served in a few hours."

The Dimitrescu daughters nodded in understanding, their movements fluid as they made their way to their chambers to prepare for the evening ahead. Meanwhile, Alcina dispatched a maid to fetch Miranda's equipment, ensuring that her wife had all she needed to tend to their unexpected guest.

Alone in their shared room, Alcina found Miranda tending to the stranger's wounds with practiced expertise, her hands gentle yet sure as she worked. With a soft smile, Alcina offered her assistance, their bond a silent testament to the strength of their union.

Miranda's skilled hands moved with precision as she tended to the unconscious woman, her focus unwavering despite the weight of uncertainty that hung in the air. Alcina stood by her side, a silent sentinel ready to offer assistance at a moment's notice.

As they worked, their conversation drifted to the mysterious circumstances surrounding the woman's appearance in the abandoned base. They speculated quietly, weaving tales of intrigue and danger, each possibility more fantastical than the last.

With practiced ease, Miranda finished attending to the woman's injuries, her touch gentle as she wrapped them in sterile dressings. She cleaned her equipment methodically, her movements a ballet of efficiency and grace.

A faint stir from the woman interrupted their quiet conversation, and Miranda's hand instinctively reached out to steady her. Alcina's voice, a soothing balm in the darkness, reassured the woman of her safety, her words a promise of protection amidst the unknown.

But the woman, disoriented and confused, attempted to rise from her makeshift bed. Miranda's gentle touch halted her movement, her voice soft yet firm as she urged the woman to rest.

"You're safe now," Alcina assured her, her gaze unwavering as she met the woman's eyes. "You're in good hands."

The young woman's words cut through the air like a chilling breeze, her voice trembling with fear and desperation. "I need to leave," she pleaded, her eyes darting nervously towards the door. "They'll hurt me if they find me here."

But her legs buckled beneath her, and she stumbled, leaning heavily against the sturdy wooden doorframe for support. Alcina approached her cautiously, her voice a soothing melody amidst the woman's turmoil.

"You're safe here," Alcina reassured her, her tone gentle yet unwavering. "No one will harm you."

Miranda's keen gaze softened as she observed the young woman's distress, her heart aching with empathy for the pain etched in her features. "You need antibiotics," Miranda explained calmly, her voice a steady anchor in the storm.

At the mention of needles, the woman's eyes widened with fear, her body tensing in anticipation. "No, please, not again," she pleaded, her voice tinged with anguish.

Alcina's brow furrowed in concern as she listened to the woman's words, a sense of foreboding settling over her. "What do you mean, 'again'?" she inquired gently, her voice laced with quiet concern.

"They..." the woman trailed off, her voice choked with emotion. "They always give me shots," she confessed, her words heavy with the weight of trauma.

Miranda guided the woman to the bed, her touch gentle as she offered comfort and reassurance. She sat beside her, her presence a steady anchor in the tumult of emotions swirling around them.

As Alcina administered the injections, Miranda offered words of encouragement, her voice a soothing balm to the woman's frayed nerves. With the first needle's prick, the woman held her breath, her knuckles turning white as she clutched Miranda's hand in a vice-like grip.

"Remember to breathe, sweetheart," Miranda murmured, her voice a gentle reminder of their shared humanity.

The second injection followed, and the woman squeezed Miranda's hand tightly, her eyes squeezed shut against the pain. Miranda praised her bravery, her words a beacon of light in the darkness of her fear.

"You did very well, my dear," Alcina added, her voice warm with pride as she applied bandaids to the tiny puncture wounds.

The young woman's eyelids grew heavy, the effects of the medication beginning to take hold. With a soft sigh, she swayed dizzily, her strength ebbing away as she slipped from the edge of the bed. Alcina's swift reflexes caught her before she could hit the ground, her voice a steady anchor in the swirling sea of confusion.

"Easy now," Alcina murmured, her arms enfolding the woman in a protective embrace. With gentle care, she lifted her and settled her back onto the bed, beside Miranda.

The woman, her name still a mystery, sought solace in Miranda's presence, her heart yearning for the warmth of connection amidst the chill of uncertainty. Miranda welcomed her into her embrace, her touch tender as she brushed a stray lock of hair from the woman's face.

Alcina watched over them, her gaze soft with compassion as she took a seat beside the young woman. She reached out, her hand resting lightly on the woman's shoulder, a silent gesture of support and reassurance.

"You're safe here, sweetheart," Miranda whispered, her voice a gentle caress in the darkness. "Rest now, and let your worries fade away."

Alcina's voice joined Miranda's, their words weaving a tapestry of comfort and solace around the woman. "We'll protect you," she promised, her tone firm yet gentle. "You're not alone."

The young woman's lips parted in a feeble attempt to speak, her voice barely a whisper amidst the quiet of the room. Miranda's gentle touch silenced her, a soft shushing sound soothing her restless mind.

"Rest now, my dear," Miranda murmured, her voice a gentle melody in the darkness. "There will be time to talk later, once you're feeling better."

The woman, her eyelids heavy with exhaustion, nodded weakly, her protests silenced by the comforting embrace of sleep. She sank deeper into Miranda's arms, her body yielding to the pull of slumber as the warmth of safety enveloped her.

Curiosity flickered in her eyes as she gazed up at the two older women, a silent question lingering on her lips. Alcina's voice, warm and reassuring, broke the stillness of the room as she introduced herself and Miranda.

"I am Alcina Dimitrescu, and this is my wife, Miranda," Alcina explained, her tone gentle yet proud. "And you, my dear, what is your name?"

Miranda's gaze softened as she awaited the woman's response, her heart brimming with compassion for the stranger in their midst. "We would like to know who you are sweet girl," she added, her voice a gentle invitation to trust.Y/n's voice, soft and hesitant, broke the silence of the room. "My name is Y/n," she murmured, her eyes flickering with uncertainty as she met Miranda and Alcina's gazes.

The apology tumbled from Y/n's lips, her voice laced with self-doubt. Alcina's brow furrowed in confusion at the unexpected apology, prompting Y/n to explain her concern about intruding on their relationship.

Alcina's gaze softened, a flicker of understanding passing between her and Miranda. "You have nothing to apologize for, my dear," Alcina assured her, her voice warm with reassurance. "You are not an inconvenience."

Miranda echoed Alcina's sentiment, her touch gentle as she urged Y/n to rest. "Sleep now," Miranda whispered, her words a soothing lullaby in the stillness of the room. "We'll talk more later."

With a tender kiss to Y/n's forehead, Alcina bid Miranda and Y/n farewell, her footsteps fading into the distance as she left the room. Y/n shifted slightly, pulling away from Miranda's embrace, her eyes clouded with uncertainty.

"Are you alright?" Miranda asked, her voice soft with concern as she observed the turmoil in Y/n's expression.

Y/n's response was hesitant, her words tinged with guilt. "I shouldn't be getting so close to a married woman," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

But Miranda's touch was gentle yet firm as she drew Y/n back into her embrace. "If you need comfort right now, that's what matters," Miranda reassured her, her words a beacon of understanding in the darkness of Y/n's doubts. "You're not doing anything to jeopardize our marriage."

Y/n relaxed into Miranda's arms, her fears melting away in the warmth of their shared embrace. Miranda pulled the duvet over them both, cocooning them in a blanket of safety and comfort as Y/n nestled closer to her.

With a final kiss to Y/n's forehead, Miranda whispered words of comfort as Y/n drifted off to sleep, the weight of the world easing from her shoulders in the embrace of those who dared to care. And in the heart of Castle Dimitrescu, amidst shadows and secrets, a stranger found solace in the arms of those who welcomed her with open hearts.

Amidst the quiet intimacy of their room, Alcina returned from her brief check on the girls, her footsteps echoing softly in the dimly lit chamber. She approached Miranda with a questioning gaze, concern etched into the lines of her elegant features.

"How is she?" Alcina inquired, her voice a gentle murmur as she regarded Miranda with a mixture of curiosity and worry.

Miranda's gaze softened as she turned to face her wife, a small smile gracing her lips. "She's sleeping now," Miranda replied, her voice soft with reassurance. "She was worried about us being married."

Alcina's brow furrowed in confusion at the revelation, prompting Miranda to explain Y/n's concerns. "She doesn't understand why she feels that way," Miranda added, her voice tinged with empathy.

A tender silence enveloped them as they pondered the complexities of Y/n's feelings. "I don't mind that she's come into our lives," Miranda confessed, her words a testament to the depth of her compassion.

Alcina's gaze softened with understanding, her hand reaching out to intertwine with Miranda's. "I agree," she murmured, her voice a whispered affirmation of their shared sentiment.

They lingered in quiet companionship for a while longer, their thoughts drifting amidst the gentle ebb and flow of conversation. Two hours passed in the blink of an eye, and soon, the aroma of dinner wafted into the room, heralding the arrival of their meal.

Miranda stirred Y/n gently from her slumber, her touch tender as she guided the sleepy woman to sit up. Y/n instinctively gravitated towards Miranda, seeking solace in the comforting embrace of the older woman.

Alcina's voice broke the silence, her tone warm with affection as she informed Y/n of their dinner. With her help, Y/n sat up and began to eat, the simple act of nourishment a testament to the newfound bond forged between them.

But as Y/n pushed the food around on her plate, Alcina gently urged her to eat, her voice filled with concern. "You should try to eat something, my dear. It will help settle your stomach," she suggested, her eyes flickering with worry.

Y/n hesitated, her appetite diminished by memories too painful to share. "I'm not hungry," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Miranda exchanged a concerned glance with Alcina, her brow furrowing in worry. "Is there a specific reason why you don't want to eat?" she inquired gently, her voice filled with empathy.

Y/n's gaze flickered with hesitation, her mind torn between the desire to confide in them and the fear of burdening them with her past. But finally, she found the courage to speak, her voice trembling with the weight of her confession.

"When I was given meals at the base... they were usually poisoned," she admitted, her words heavy with the weight of truth. "They wanted to see which poisons I was immune to."

Shock and anger rippled across Alcina and Miranda's faces at Y/n's revelation, their hearts heavy with the weight of her suffering. "We would never do such a thing," Alcina vowed, her voice laced with righteous indignation. "We want you to be safe here."

Miranda's hand reached out to gently touch Y/n's, her touch a silent reassurance of their commitment to her well-being. "We want to help you," she murmured, her voice soft yet determined. "Please, try to eat something small. It will help with the antibiotics."

With a shared understanding passing between them, Y/n nodded slowly, her trust in Alcina and Miranda growing with each passing moment. 

As the weeks passed, Y/n found herself gradually integrating into the life of Castle Dimitrescu. She formed bonds with Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela, the Dimitrescu daughters taking a liking to her gentle nature and welcoming her into their fold. But it was with Alcina and Miranda that Y/n grew closest, finding solace and security in their presence.

Despite the warmth of their companionship, Y/n continued to sleep on the floor each night, a silent testament to the lingering trauma that haunted her dreams. The softness of the bed and the comfort of the room were foreign to her, a stark contrast to the harsh realities she had endured before being rescued by Alcina and her daughters.

To Y/n, the comforts of the bed were reserved for those who had earned them, not for someone like her. So she sought refuge on the familiar embrace of the floor, finding solace in the hum of the heating and the warmth of a simple rug beneath her.

It was only when Miranda and Alcina gently encouraged her to embrace the comfort of the bed that Y/n began to realize the true extent of her fear of sleep. The gentle weight of the comforter, the warmth of the mattress, and the softness of the pillows were foreign sensations, overwhelming in their unfamiliarity.

But with their reassurance, Y/n tentatively allowed herself to sink into the embrace of the bed, the promise of safety and comfort beckoning her into the realm of sleep. Yet, as the night wore on, the darkness of her dreams crept in, suffocating her with its tendrils of fear and despair.

The first night in the shared bed was plagued by bone-deep screams, the echoes of her nightmares reverberating through the quiet of the room. Alcina and Miranda at her side in a n instant, their gentle words a soothing balm to her troubled soul as they guided her back to the shores of wakefulness.

But even as they slipped back into unconsciousness, the nightmares returned with a vengeance, tearing through the fragile veil of sleep with relentless ferocity. Hour after hour, Y/n fought against the darkness, her throat raw from screams and her body drenched in sweat.

Yet, through it all, Alcina and Miranda remained steadfast at her side, their unwavering presence a beacon of light in the darkness of her nightmares. And as the night faded into dawn, Y/n clung to their comfort, the promise of a new day offering a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows of her past.

The echoes of Y/n's screams filled the room, jolting both Alcina and Miranda from their sleep. Right away, they were at her side, their comforting presence a shield against the encroaching darkness of her nightmares.

Miranda gently cradled Y/n in her arms, feeling the tremors that coursed through her body. "Draga mea, shh, you're safe," she whispered, her voice a soothing melody in the night.

Alcina's hand rested on Y/n's shoulder, her touch firm yet gentle. "Îngeraș, we're here for you," she reassured, her voice a comforting murmur.

Y/n, caught in the throes of her nightmares, clung to Miranda, her tears soaking into the fabric of her nightshirt. Between sobs, she tried to articulate the horrors that plagued her dreams, but her words were disjointed and unintelligible.

Miranda pressed a tender kiss to Y/n's forehead, her voice a calming presence amidst the storm. "Shh, my dear, it's okay. We're here with you," she murmured, her fingers gently stroking Y/n's hair.

Alcina leaned in, her lips brushing against Y/n's temple. "Take your time, îngeraș. We're not going anywhere," she said, her voice a steady reassurance.

The trio remained intertwined in the bed, a tableau of comfort and solace in the face of Y/n's turmoil. Alcina and Miranda worked in tandem to calm her racing heart and ease the tension that gripped her.

As Y/n continued to cry into Miranda's neck, Alcina whispered soothing words in Romanian, the melodic cadence a balm to Y/n's restless soul. "Liniștește-te, îngeraș. Ești în siguranță," she murmured, her voice a gentle lullaby.

Miranda continued her soft reassurances, offering a comforting refuge for Y/n to lean into. "It's alright, my dear. We're here to help you through this," she whispered, her words a promise of unwavering support.

After some time, as Y/n's sobs began to subside, Alcina and Miranda exchanged a knowing glance. "Let's talk about it in the morning," Alcina suggested, her tone filled with understanding.

Miranda nodded in agreement, gently wiping away Y/n's tears. "Sleep, Draga mea. We'll face this together when the sun rises," she murmured, her words a gentle promise of a new day, free from the shadows of the night.

[frostsinth]

Your Heart's Got Teeth - Pt. 3

Part 1|2 - Masterlist

Was going to post this tomorrow, but just finished a final read-through and wanted to get it up.

Let me know what you think! Hope you enjoy.

-----

“Huntress! HUNTRESS!” Came the fearful call.

I dropped the stones I had been attempting to pile out of the way with a resounding clatter. My heart leaping into my chest as I sprung forward. Jumping over the rubble and back to the street as the older matron came running up to me breathlessly. A few children half tangled in her skirts.

“What is it? What’s happened?” I demanded.

She glanced frantically over her shoulder. “The orcs are coming! Into the square! You must come inside, quickly!”

I shoved past her instead, ignoring her grabbing hands. Half pushing her towards the doorway as I moved around them. Not even bothering with words even as she frantically tried to convince me otherwise. I was already almost sprinting around the corner to the square.

The reason for her urgency quickly became apparent as I rounded the corner. The village square was the largest open area inside the walls. Once, there had been a well and tree in its center. Now there was a pile of rubble that skittered out onto the surrounding cobblestones. The buildings and houses that remained around the parameter had been commandeered for our shelters, being that the orcs wanted us all kept close, and the square was now our only gathering place. Where all those remaining gathered when the sun was up to whisper and worry and glance over their shoulders while the children picked about the stones of their former childhood forlornly.

Now there were orcs. A great number of them, perhaps almost a dozen, male and female alike. Armor and weapon clad. They had never bothered venturing into the square before. Always prowling around the streets outside. I was rather certain the last time one had set foot here was the night of the attack. I could almost smell the burning fires and hear the crash of the great tree’s branches snapping off one by one as the blaze consumed it. I did not imagine it boded well for them to be here once more.

One of the hulking beasts caught sight of me, the only human currently not cowering behind a door, and she grunted. Jabbing her arm into one of her companions and pointing. Perhaps the leader, based upon the way the others cleared space as he turned his attention at the jab and stomped over to me. I readied myself to run, thinking I might be able to have them give chase if I ran out of the square. Past their patrol. Lead them away from the others, and hope they had half a brain to take the opportunity.

I jumped as a large burlap sack landed at my feet instead. I glanced at it in surprise, then back at the orc. He watched me for a moment, then grunted. Turning over his shoulder and gesturing to the others. One by one they approached the buildings and tossed an equally large sack towards the doorways.

I grabbed the edge of the sack, tearing it open. Fearing there would be explosives, or body parts, or…

“Food.” Growled the leader. He brought his fingers to his mouth and tapped them to his lips. “Eat.”

I stared at him dumbfounded. Then back down at the bag. Which was filled with rolls of bread and dried meat. The orcs seemed to wait for a moment, looking around warily. The leader watched me, then shrugged. Giving a shout and waving the others out.

“Eat.” He told me again, tapping his fingers to his lips. Then turned and followed the others out of the square once more.

It took a few minutes for the doors to slowly creak open. For fearful eyes to peer around their edges. I watched, then looked back down at the contents of the bag. Blinking stupidly.

“… What is it?” came a fearful voice from the nearest door.

I glanced at the old man there, then back down at the bag. I almost laughed.

“Food.” I told him, holding open the sack for him to see. His eyes widened.

“Food??” He said, much more loudly than I, and I heard the word echoing around the square.

The clattering of feet on stones filled the air as more and more villagers poured out of the buildings. Retrieving the bags and opening them to find the same things I had. A few distrustful shouts pierced the growing excitement, and I noticed the older woman with her orphans slowly approach. Her expression halfway between hopeful and afraid.

“It’s a trap!” The old man who had spoken first proclaimed, waving one shaking hand about to urge the square to still. “Don’t touch it! It must be poisoned.”

Another rising chatter, and I sighed, reaching into the sack I held. Pulling out a piece of jerky. Turning it this way and that. Then swallowing my nerve and taking a solid bite. Ignoring the gasps that filled the air in the wake of my action.

“Tastes fine.” I mused through the mouthful, looking back down at it. Turning and passing the bag to the older woman behind me. “Pace yourselves,” I recommended, loud enough for all to hear, “Have a little first and see how it sits. Save the rest.”

I chose to duck out down one of the remaining side streets as the villagers suddenly all dove for the sacks. Each eagerly and greedily pulling out items. Some heeded my warning and only took a bite or two. Others ate a whole bread roll before looking up to the heavens in relief. I wandered down the nearest alley, taking another bite of the jerky, my head racing with the implications of bags of food literally appearing on our doorstep. But there were far too many people crowding the square right now for my liking. I felt a stab of guilt again, and stared down at the food in my hand. A patter of little feet on stones announced another’s approach, and I turned towards it. Just in time as a little child skirted past me, and I grabbed their shoulder. Passing them the jerky and nodding towards the square.

“There’s more. Tell any of the others hiding too.” I told her, and her eyes went wide before she nodded eagerly.

I watched her dart off, sighing a little. Reaching up to rub at the back of my neck.

“Not hungry?”

I didn’t jump at the voice, though I certainly hadn’t heard him approach. I turned to see Izu’lemi smiling, leaning against a nearby wall. Obviously he was stealthier than I had initially thought. Though I shouldn’t have been surprised to see him. Much as I tried to avoid him, he seemed to have a knack for hunting me down. It had been at least a few days since I had last seen him this time, and I considered him for a moment.

“You did this.” I reasoned, but he shook his head.

“My dad did. Told me hostages are no good to us if they are dead.”

I felt myself bristle, glaring down at the ground. “Feeding the pigs their slop before slaughter.” I accused.

Izu’lemi leapt over, patting the air between us. “It’s not like that.” He tried to reassure me. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I sighed, shaking my head a little. Too tired to point out his small minded thinking.

“This will only last a day or two.” I pointed out. “What comes after that? Who is responsible for keeping the livestock fed?”

I saw him tilt his head. “I don’t know. This is from our reserves, but we have plenty!”

“Do you? Enough for the whole winter?” I asked. “You so sure your people will want to feed their prisoners once the first storms hit?”

Izu’lemi looked over my shoulder. “… I don’t know. I’ve never been in a war camp before. Not for this long anyway.” He reached up and thumbed at his lip. “Some food comes from caravans, grain and such, some we make here. Maybe your people could make some too.”

I scoffed a little. “We don’t have the resources.” I reminded him. “And we’re not allowed to leave the center of town.”

He seemed to think about that for a moment. “You need to speak to my father.” He reasoned. “Explain that to him.”

“He won’t listen to me.”

“He’ll listen to me.” He assured me, then grabbed my arm. “Come on!”

“Izu’lemi, wait!” I tried to protest, but he was already half dragging me down the street.

I was suddenly reminded that even though he was much younger than me, he was bigger. And apparently stronger. Though he seemed completely oblivious to that fact. Rather than potentially dislocate my shoulder, I allowed him to lead me up the hill to the orc camp without resisting.

They hadn’t commandeered any of our buildings like the soldiers had, instead choosing to set up their big, rounded tents along the hill that bordered the eastern side of the village. It’s open fields had been used for communal grazing, but now it was a small city in and of itself with all the individual tents that filled one lazy slope. Between the tents were campfires, and around those fires were orcs. Dozens and dozens of orcs. I imagined there may have been hundreds by now, but I avoided counting them. Feeling a lump twist in my throat as Izu’lemi dragged me up the hill. No one had been up here since the initial attack, and I found myself suddenly filled with a strange fear. As if my presence would cement this into a more permanent reality, rather than a distant horror. I focused on the ground at my feet to avoid drawing undue attention to myself. Izu’lemi appeared oblivious to my discomfort.

On we went, past suspicious glances and angry snorts. To the biggest, thickest tent of all near the great meeting hall that had been commandeered as a jailhouse for the living able bodied men of the village. I glanced at the big stone and wood building, lingering back a step before Izu’lemi pulled me on. Feeling a pit of anxiety forming in my stomach as he ducked into the tent.

A spattering of orcish hit my ears first, then an angry growl as I fully entered. I looked over to find Jou’kiel sitting in the tent near a small fire with a mug in hand. A busty female orc currently rubbing his shoulders. He fixed me with an irritated scowl, pushing her hands off as Izu’lemi dragged me to the center of the tent. I wondered briefly, feeling my anxiety spike even more, if this was Izu’lemi’s mother. But given the boy didn’t even glance at her, I quickly dismissed that notion, and my own foolishness for caring. She was tall, though not nearly so tall as the boy’s father, and had long, thick black dreads with hints of sun-bleached copper at the tips. She cocked her head to one side, then glanced at Jou’kiel almost questioningly.

Out from scrutiny, I took the opportunity to look around the tent. It was much warmer than outside. As soon as we had stepped in, I felt the comforting warmth of the fire. The tent was probably a dozen feet or more around, with thick, tanned hides like patchwork stitched up its sides. The center was taken up by a fire pit and cooking pot, and the space smelled comfortingly of wood smoke. Aside from the fire and pot, there were a half dozen or so upturned logs. Most had things on them; bits of armor, stacks of furs, rolls of paper and sticks of charcoal. There was a particularly large bundle of furs at one side of the tent that I imagined was a bed. It looked a bit like a nest, with a slight depression in the center and a pitcher and mug ready at its edge. There were chests aside from the bed, and a few weapons and other larger items cluttering the parameter of the tent. Otherwise, the tent was open, and it was easy enough to move around what there was as we entered.

It wasn’t a far stretch of the imagination to realize this was Jou’kiel’s personal tent. His private tent, not one intended for visitors. A point which I assumed was being made, considering the growing agitation in his tones.

More orcish was exchanged between father and son, and Jou’kiel waved the woman away. She peered at me again curiously as she left, but otherwise didn’t seem inclined to argue. They might not have heard her anyways, as their volume was fast growing with each subsequent exchange.

“You need to speak to her.” Izu’lemi replied to his father finally, pointedly speaking in Common.

Jou’kiel snorted, shaking his head and leaning back on the stump. Swirling the contents of his cup and licking his bottom lip. Looking us both up and down for a long moment with a dark glower on his face.

“I don’t need to do anything.” He growled, reluctantly switching to Common as well. “I’ve already sent food. Wood is being gathered.” He waved his free hand. “Take her back to the others, Izu. Humans are to be kept in the center of the village.”

“The food will only last them a day or two!” He argued. “You need to give them more.”

“We don’t need your food.” I interjected before his father could answer.

Both looked at me in surprise, then the older orc scowled. “Too good for our food?” He said, his tones and eyes dark, “Too proud to accept help from an orc?”

“We don’t need your food.” I repeated. “We need to be able to gather our own.”

He scoffed, leaning forward with one elbow on each knee. Shaking his wild mane. “You have such idle fantasies of war.”

“Inu’u.” Izu hissed, sounding almost scolding but mostly irritated.

I put my hands on my hips, returning his scowl. “How long can you feed us all? How many men will you ask to chop wood each day?” I asked. “How long until they refuse to feed your prisoners anymore?”

The pair exchanged a look, but the older orc didn’t answer. Thinking it over for a moment, looking down at the drink in his hand.

“And you have a better option? We should let you all go I suppose?” He growled.

“Let us leave the village.” I countered again. “To hunt for ourselves. To gather wood, and materials to patch walls and roofs.”

“The manpower to guard-”

“Would be no more than what you are expending now in menial labor.” I interrupted, leaving him huffing in irritation. “You said so yourself. The orcs you brought with you are more warriors than homemakers. How long will they be content with the being the latter for humans?”

He swirled his cup again, thinking it over. His brow scrunched. Then he grumbled, taking another sip.

“I’m not in the mood for this.”

“Inu’u!” His son walked over, shoving him lightly. “You have to-”

“Enough,” He snapped, then spoke briefly to him in orcish, gesturing with one hand angrily.

Izu’lemi’s brow scrunched. He started to reply, then stopped, glancing at me. “Just hear her out!” He replied in Common instead.

Jou’kiel gritted his teeth, refusing to look at me.

“Izu, I am tired. It is late. Just-”

“This is important!” The younger orc even went so far as to stomp one foot. “You are always telling me to think ahead, to take responsibility! I’m-”

“THIS?? This is not your responsibility.” Jou’kiel snapped loudly, standing abruptly. “She is not your responsibility!”

“She’s to be my mate.” He argued, not backing down even as his father towered over him. “If you have no honor-”

“Mind how you speak to me.” The older orc growled.

“But she’s right!” Izu’lemi said, changing tactics. “The warriors will-”

His father growled, cutting him off. “Enough.”

“Inu’u, I-”

“I said ENOUGH, Izu.” He practically roared, slamming his mug down on the stump behind him. “I am tired. I have more important things. Take her back to the village.”

I tried not to stare during the exchange, feeling very out of place and unsure what to do with myself. Now, at the older orc’s formal dismissal, I took a step towards the tent flap. More than happy to be gone from that place. Izu’lemi’s lip began dangerously large, and he crossed his arms over his chest.

“How come everything I want to do is unimportant?” He muttered angrily after a few tense moments of silence. “… And if this is not my responsibility, then it’s yours.”

Jou’kiel groaned, reaching up two fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose. Resting the other hand on his hip and letting out a hefty sigh. A few more moments, and he tossed up his hands. Shaking his wild mane of hair and returning to his stump with an angry grunt.

“Fine! Fine. I’ll hear her out.” He swept up his drink and plopped down unceremoniously. “But I’m drinking while I do.”

“You won’t regret it!” His son almost bounced on his toes in his sudden excitement, beckoning me deeper into the tent. “I really think she’s right-”

“Izu, leave.”

“But-”

He waved a hand, silencing the younger orc. “I don’t need both of you squawking at me. I’ll hear her out. Alone.” The boy looked like he was going to say more, but he growled loudly before he could. “Now, Izu. That’s the condition if you want this so badly.”

The younger orc pouted, but did as he was told. Sparing me a small wink of encouragement as he did. The tent fell quiet after he left, only the crackle of the fire filling it for a few breaths.

Jou’kiel sighed heavily. “Why is it always you?” He grumbled.

“Why did it have to be you?” I shot back agitatedly.

That made his lips curl into a semblance of a smile at the corners. He looked down at his cup, his brow still furrowed. Then sighed quietly. Reaching over and dragging a laden stump closer to the fire. Shoving the armor sitting on it to the floor. Kicking it out of the way. He Ignored the ensuing clatter and crash and patted the stump pointedly instead. I shook my head, and he grunted again.

“Sit.” He ordered, his expression growing a bit dark at my delay.

I considered it for a moment longer, but then slowly made my way over. Sitting in the indicated spot. Realizing it was closer to him than I had originally thought, seeing how our knees almost brushed. I jerked a bit as a mug of ale was pushed into my palm. The foam splashing over the top and down onto my wrist. That made him chuckle, and I shot him another scowl as I switched the over sized mug to the other hand and shook the wet one free.

“Do you speak for your people?”

I thought about that for a moment, my movement slowing. Both hands coming around to cup the mug.

“… I’m not their leader.” I told him. “I didn’t even live in the village before the soldiers came. But I know what they need. I know what they are thinking.”

He grunted, taking a deep, slow sip of his own ale. “Where did you live, if not the village?”

“Why does it matter?” I bristled. And he shrugged.

“It doesn’t. Can you speak for them?”

“I’m not-”

“I didn’t ask if you were their leader.” His grunt moved to a growl. “I ask if you can speak for them.”

“… Yes.”

A snort this time. “Good. Since you seem to think you know everything. What do you propose?”

I tried not to scowl, thumbing the edge of the mug. “… Let us leave the village.”

“To hunt.”

I nodded. “To gather wood, and other supplies. To build our stores.” I stared down at the mug in my hands. “Winter snows are not far, and with things the way they are, I don’t see the season ending the same way it started.”

There was a heavy rumbling sound that vibrated from somewhere deep in his chest. Slowly he leaned forward, placing one elbow on either knee. Thumbing at his thick bottom lip then taking a deep draw of the thick ale. A bit of foam lingered at the corner of his mouth once he finished, and his over sized tongue came out to lick it away. I tried not to stare. Tried not to wonder what those tusks were like. Were they sharp? Hard but smooth like teeth or textured like old bone? Did they feel heavy or was he used to it? Surely there were more muscles supporting them, given the squareness of his massive jaw. The thickness of his neck. My eyes trailed down, following to his collarbones, tracing over his broad shoulders and muscled chest. I almost jumped as he suddenly shifted, leaning closer to me.

“Drink.” He growled, then reached over to bring the tips of his fingers beneath the ale. Pushing it up lightly as if to guide it to my lips.

I scoffed, shifting the drink to one hand and shoving his huge forearm away with the other. He curled his lip back from his teeth, then snorted.

“Too good for orcish ale?” He asked. I shot him another bitter look, and he gave another snort in response. “Drink. My hospitality demands it.”

I gritted my teeth and rolled my eyes a bit. But did as he bid. Bringing the mug to my lips. My nostrils flared briefly before I downed a fair amount in a few deep draws. It was very strong, with a thick, wheaty taste. But not bad, and pleasantly warm. Instantly staving off the chill that had started to settle in my bones which the heat of the fire could not touch. I heard the rumbling sound of his approval and lowered the lip once more.

“Happy?” I grumbled, and jerked as he poured more ale sloppily into the mug, some splashing over the edge. Refilling what I had just drank and then some.

“No.” He replaced the pitcher on the floor by his boot, taking another swig from his own drink. “You irritate me.”

I took a smaller sip, leery of him attempting to fill it again should it present with available space. Shaking my head a little as its warm fingers slipped into my gut and wrapped themselves around me. I was already going to reek of the stuff when I left.

“Forgive me if my imprisonment does not amuse you.” I muttered.

“That.” He jabbed his finger at my shoulder and I almost spilled more of the ale across my lap. “That is irritating.”

“Oh, many pardons, your high and mightiness.” I shot back angrily, swatting away the finger he had already withdrawn. “I’ll be sure to hold my tongue in your presence.”

He took another deep draw from his mug, then refilled it. Shaking his head.

“Very irritating.” He grumbled. “Not sure how you live with it.”

“Feel free to make sure you don’t need to.”

Another grunt, and he shook his head again. The beads chiming in his hair as he did.

“Why should I care?” He half-grunted. “Why should I give your people these freedoms?”

I smashed the mug down on a smaller stump near me. Having barely resisted the urge to throw it straight into his face. He looked at me in surprise at the sound, and I stood angrily.

“If you need to be convinced to give two shits about innocent lives under your charge, then you are already more of a monster than I thought.” I snapped.

His hand shot out as I moved to stomp away. Catching my arm. Tugging me over to him as easily as plucking a flower from a vase. I wriggled in his grasp, scowling at him.

“Let me go.”

He squeezed my wrist a bit tighter. “I am no monster.”

“You sound like one.”

Another tug, and he had me face to face with him. Glowering at me.

“I want to know why you think I should care.” He said, his voice quiet but firm. “That speaks nothing to whether or not I do. I am your warden, not a nursemaid. Explain it to me.”

“I’m not here to provide morality lessons.” I shot back. “We need food. We need clothing. We need materials to repair our buildings and wood to keep our fires. If you don’t know why you should care, then I can’t help you.”

I still wriggled in his grasp, but he held me firmly in place. Even going so far as to lift the mug of ale with his free hand and take a slow sip. All the while careful to hold my gaze with his. Studying my face. I felt the burning desire to smack his.

“You would flee.” He reasoned.

“The nearest village is a week away at least,” I replied, “In good conditions. The frosts come every night already, do you think anyone would be stupid enough to freeze to death trying to go anywhere right now?” I twisted again, ignoring the pain as I tried to free myself. “We’re just as likely to freeze to death here, why go hunting for it elsewhere?”

“It is winter.” He reminded me, not even seeming to register my continued struggle against his grip. “There would be no game for hunting. Excuses.”

“There is a herd that stays the winter.” I countered. “I know where they keep to. I’ve brought more than enough back in a single day hunting them than some farmers make in a month.”

He considered me, one brow raising up. “You hunt?”

I scowled back at him. “What, women can’t hunt??”

A shrug this time. “Women can hunt.” He practically hoisted me off my feet by my wrist, stretching me out before his inspection. “Not you. You are tiny. Too weak to hunt.”

The resounding echo of the slap against the broadside of his cheek rang in the silence of the tent. He jerked in surprise, then a growl formed in his throat. Slowly, he stood, towering over me. Twisting my wrist painfully around my back. Almost pining me against him. Forcing me to crane my neck all the way back to hold his eye or otherwise have my face buried in his solid chest. He glowered at me, his lips curled back in a silent snarl, his braids draping around us like a black curtain.

“Don’t test me.” He warned.

“Don’t insult me.” I shot back.

A sneer now. “So very irritating.”

I matched his, twisting in his grasp and hiding the wince of pain as I did. “So very arrogant.”

He finally tossed me back a step, growling again and shaking his head. I brought my wrist around to rub at it. Swallowing the tears in my throat and shaking my own head. He half turned, looking around the tent. Reaching out and picking up the pitcher to refill his mug. Taking a slow sip, as if to calm himself.

“Sit.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

He snorted. “Maybe later.” He turned back to me, then gently shoved my shoulder. “Sit. You bear me, I’ll bear you.”

“Why should I?”

“Because. We can do something here. For both our people.” He nudged my shoulder with the back of his hand again. “And if we don’t talk now, Izu will just make us do it all again later. Sit.”

I did sit slowly, watching him down half his drink before plopping down so heavily the tent shook. He picked up the pitcher. Refilling his mug again.

“You’re drunk.” I accused bitterly.

He shrugged. “Not yet. But trying to be.” He leaned across me, bringing his bare neck and shoulder so close I could smell him. I tensed, but he merely scooped up my abandoned mug and put it back into my hands. “Join me, won’t you?”

I didn’t take the mug right away, and he kept it poised between my hands for a moment.

“Will you even remember anything you promised come morning?”

Another snort. “I don’t make promises.” He shook the cup a little, causing ale to once again splash over my hands. “I trust you’ll make sure to keep me honest either way.”

I shot him a bitter look, but took the mug. Leery of it being dumped on my lap entirely otherwise. He rumbled in approval, leaning back and taking another long draw. When he finished, he raised one bushy brow at me pointedly. I rolled my eyes, but took a sip. His hand came out to tilt the bottom up so gently I could have ignored it, but I obediently drank a bit more.

“Good?” He asked once I had lowered the mug and he had dropped his hand away.

“Waiting for you to seem more tolerable.” I replied. “Then I’ll let you know.”

He picked up the big pitcher and sloshed it for good measure. “We’d need much more ale.”

I sighed as he refilled the mug yet again, resisting the twitch of a smile at the corners of my mouth. Thumbing the edge of it and looking into the fire. Feeling my eyes swim and my legs quiver with exhaustion beneath my skirts. The ale certainly wasn’t helping.

“Free to leave the village.” He recalled, swirling his drink. “How would that work?”

“You’re the warden.” I said. “You figure it out.”

He gave a deep rumbling ‘hmmm’. “Patrols. Curfew.” He looked down at his drink for a moment, then took a deep sip. “Escorts.”

“We need chaperons to leave?” I scoffed. “Waiting for permission? You’ll make things worse, nurse resentments.”

Another ‘hmm’. “Longer excursions, hunts. Anything in eye line of the wall does not.”

I resisted the urge to sigh again, taking a little sip of the ale.

“Fine.”

He nudged me with the toe of his boot, and I shot him a dirty look. “That’s not much of a fight.”

“Does it matter?” I quipped. “It’s fine. I can hunt. The villagers can gather wood, mushrooms, maybe even berries and roots.” I stopped short, shaking my head. He didn’t need to know all that. The less he knew, the better.

A slow nod, a slower sip of his drink. “Anything else?”

“No. Can I leave now?”

He raised his mug, holding it out towards mine and clinking them together. “Why are you so eager to go back to the cold?”

“Better than sitting in your stink.” I grumbled, taking a small begrudging sip as he spoke.

“Right.” He said, his tones dark, his brow heavy. “Because I’m an orc.”

“No. Because you, personally, stink.” I assured him.

He looked at me in surprise, then barked out a laugh. Shaking his head in his good humor. “I must be drunk now. You are not this amusing.”

“Congratulations. Can I go now?”

He heaved a great sigh, swirling about his drink again. Silent for a long moment. I nursed a slow sip as he did. Shifting a little in my seat. Somewhat reluctant to leave the warmth of his tent despite my insistence.

“Leave Izu out of this, yes?”

“I’m not looking for him.” I said. “I make a point to try to avoid him. Somehow he always finds me.”

Another laugh, quieter this time. “He’s stubborn. He has his mind set on you.” I watched his big thumb trace around the edge of his mug as he slowly leaned forward again on his elbows. “I can’t seem to tear you free.”

I glanced at the tent flap, then back at him. He seemed… smaller almost. His shoulders bowed, his head dropped. Even with his heavy brow furrowed in troubled thought. For a moment, my thoughts strayed to the knife in my boot. Wondering briefly if I could overpower him. If his death would even change anything. I swallowed another sip of ale with my nerves. Dismissing the thought firmly.

“… Stop pushing.” I suggested at last. “It makes him dig in.”

He glanced at me out the corner of his eye. “I try not to. But… ever since his mother died-” He stopped short, catching himself, then glanced at me again. His expression turning sour. “… It doesn’t matter. Stay away from him.”

I hesitated, trying to push aside caring. Especially with the sharp edge his voice took now. Trying to will myself to stand and leave. While he was distracted and drunk. Before I got caught up again. Feeling a sear of guilt wondering if the villagers had any idea where I was, or had even noticed I was gone. But feeling another stab at the thought of leaving the idiot wallowing here in his own self pity. Recognizing the way he lashed out, the false anger… the endless ale.

I took another sip of my drink. Larger than the last.

“Keep him busy.” I offered. “Give him something else to throw himself into.”

I saw his copper yellow eyes flick back up to me. I sloshed my almost empty cup pointedly. Cocking one eyebrow at him. The corners of his mouth twitched, and he took up the pitcher to refill it. Stretching so close to do so our shoulders brushed and I found his cheek practically next to my mouth. My breath hitched, my nostrils flared. As soon as he leaned back I quickly doused myself in the ale once more. Trying to bury that strange little aside before I could notice it too much.

“You’re… not, right?” He asked after a long pause.

I glanced at him. “Not what? Psychic? No. Not psychic. Have no idea what you want.”

He snorted. “Not interested. In Izu.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I chided him. “I’m old enough to be his mother. He’s a kid. Kind, sweet, well-intentioned. But misguided, and stubborn.”

A small, fond smile formed on his thick lips. “That sounds like Izu.” He took a slow sip of his drink. “… Have you told him?”

“Multiple times.” I assured him. “Did I mention stubborn?”

“Might need to mention it twice.” He agreed, leaning over to click our mugs together.

Another sip. “Something in common with you after all.”

“Sweet?” He teased. I shoved his shoulder, and he laughed. “Ah, yes, kind then. You forgot handsome.” He rubbed his hand along his chin with a smirk. “He takes some of my good looks.”

“Perhaps you need a better mirror.” I replied.

“You look like you could use any mirror.” He shot back amiably. “Your hair is always a mess. And you’re covered in dirt.”

I scowled at him. “Being a prisoner doesn’t lend much time to worry about appearances.”

“Something tells me this was a previous ailment unaffected by our occupation.” He mused. Then laughed as I shoved him again, not having shifted even an inch beneath my force. “Nah, it suits you. Dirt and all.”

That had us falling into silence. Perhaps both a bit surprised. I stared down at my mug for a long portion of it. Then took a small sip of my drink.

“… I should go.”

He gave a slow nod. “It’s getting late.” He agreed quietly. Then slowly stood, placing his cup down on his seat. Picking up his big fur cloak. “I’ll walk you through the camp.”

The fires outside had died down, and I spared another guilty glance to the meeting house as we passed it. There was a gaggle of orcs congregating down the hill a ways, so Jou’kiel jerked his head and lead me down the back. There were fewer tents here, and no campfires I could see. It was mostly quiet, and I almost slipped on the frosted grass as we made our way down. One particularly steep portion I made sure to take my time, walking the edge and leaning into my weight as gravity bore down. Just as I reached the bottom I heard a loud thud that I could feel through my feet.

Not even a breath later I gave a soft shout of surprise as they were swept out from under me as something slid into be from behind.

I landed on something firm and warm, having knocked my head against it in my fall. I tried to settle my spinning head, groping about for more solid, familiar ground. As I propped myself up, I found myself eye to eye with a pair of copper ones.

“Lost my balance.” Jou’kiel mumbled pointlessly, considering he was now on his back, propped up on his elbows, with me draped across his torso.

“Obviously.” I replied, but couldn’t move. Stuck staring at him for a moment.

He didn’t move either, our faces inches away. My body rising and falling with each breath he took, which billowed around us in a soft, warm fog. I felt my heart skip and sputter in my chest, felt my breath catch.

A distant ‘woop’ of excitement from the camp had me crashing sharply back to my senses. I scrambled up, trying to touch as little of him as possible as I did. But having to plant my palms on his chest briefly to stand. Smoothing my hands down my skirts and letting out my breath in a huff. I felt him staring as I did.

“You’re an idiot.” I said.

A soft thud and a sigh, and I looked over at him in surprise. Finding him having dropped from his propped elbows. Laying completely on his back now, looking up at the sky.

“What the hell are you doing??”

He gestured towards the heavens. “Looking at the stars.”

I groaned. “Gods above, you are drunk.”

He held a hand straight out towards the sky. “Help me up.”

“You must be joking. I’d break my arm trying.”

His fingers wiggled. “Help me up.”

“You’re an idiot.” I told him again, walking over to reach for his hand. I gave another little shout as he yanked me down. My feet slipping out from under me. “What are you-???”

“Just look.” He insisted, pointing.

I did, curling at my waist to look up. Finding myself dwarfed by the massive heavens above. Filled with tiny, sparkling lights. I looked for a moment, then glanced at him. He shuffled off his cloak, spreading it over the frosted grass beside him. I scowled, but he still patted it with a stupid lop sided grin.

“Now I’m not sure who’s more an idiot,” I grumbled, slowly laying down perpendicular to him with my head and shoulders on his cloak, “Me or you.”

“Definitely you.” He assured me. Then he sighed, relaxing and his eyes drooping lazily. “I can’t remember the last time I looked at the stars.”

I followed his gaze, hesitating for a long moment. “Me either.” I agreed finally.

“Izu liked to lay in the grass and look at the stars when he was little.” He confided in me quietly, his words a bit slurred and rough, his eyes still hooded when I craned my neck to look over at him. “He never does anymore, but we used to spend hours looking up.”

I felt a sting of pain in my throat, and swallowed it. “… My brother did too.”

“What happened?”

I didn’t answer, gritting my teeth. Regretting letting that happy memory surface only to taint it with my sorrow.

“He died.” I said at last, barely above a whisper. “Five years ago now… He was… always sick. Always frail. But… He loved looking at the stars. Playing with children. Collecting stones…” I felt my voice break, and shook my head. “This is stupid.”

“Then it suits you.”

I moved to shove him, or perhaps smack him angrily, His hand caught my arm mid-motion. Then slid down to wrap around my wrist. Engulfing my hand in his. I was so surprised, I froze, craning my head back to look at him. Uncertain what to do beneath the warm of his touch.

“Izu’s mother was the sweet one.” He told me. “She showed him the stars. Showed him tadpoles in creeks and gave him pretty stones she found.” His thumb ran up and down my wrist. “When she died, I was… Izu was all that mattered.” He grunted, dropping my hand abruptly and bringing his up to rub at his face. “Still is.”

I rolled to my side, looking at him properly. Hesitating again, chewing on my cheek.

“You’re a good father.” I told him quietly.

He turned as well, craning his neck to look at me. Dropping his hands. Studying my face for a long time.

“You don’t know that.” He decided finally. “You can’t know that.”

“I don’t need to know you, to know you’re a good father.” I sighed, shaking my head and rolling to sit up. “Izu is a good kid. So I know he had a good father.” I rubbed at the back of my neck, a smirk spreading across my lips before I could help it. “Might be the only thing you are good at.”

He scoffed in amusement, rolling fully onto his side, then sitting up as well. His cloak slowly sliding out from behind me. Trailing along the bottom of my hips and lower back as it did. I glanced at him out the corner of my eyes, watching him lean over me. His big lips curled in a lopsided smirk.

“Careful,” He warned, “That was almost a compliment.”

“I retract it then.” I replied, and he gave a deep, quiet chuckle. It seemed to rumble in the air between us. I felt my breath hitch. Then I shook my head, shoving him angrily and standing up. “I’m freezing. Stop being an idiot and go back to your damn tent.” I turned as I spoke, making my way over to the cobblestone path at the foot of the hill. “You’ll be able to find it by the heavy stench of the ale you spilled everywhere.”

He gave a grunt, but didn’t say anything else. I stomped off to the nearest building, ducking around the corner as if I meant to go back to the town square as directed. But I lingered there for a moment, out of his sight. My heart racing in my chest, my breath shallow little plumes before me. I waited as long as I could stand, the minutes ticking past painfully slow. Then dared inch back to the corner, peeking around it.

Jou’kiel was still sitting in the cold grass. Staring up at the sky with his head craned all the way back and his shoulders slumped towards his lap. I almost sighed in exasperation. What was he doing?? Why hadn’t he left yet?

I shivered, wrapping my arms around me and watching him. Waiting. Last thing we needed was the idiot falling into a drunken stupor and freezing to death. No, for the sake of the villagers, better to make sure that he at least headed back up the hill. So I stayed, feeling the cold seep back into my bones, feeling the ale still blooming in my cheeks. Studying the older orc as he sat.

Even hunched as he was, he was still large. I wasn’t sure how he was warm enough, always bare chested. But if he was cold, he didn’t shiver or otherwise show it. His fur cloak draped only loosely about his broad shoulders and down his back. He had half crossed his massive legs, and I could make out the shape of his thighs through the furs wrapped there. They must have been bear, as they were thick and furry and each piece large enough to almost fully encompass his hips. For a moment, I wondered if he had hunted and killed the beasts himself. But I chided myself quietly. He was a prince. It wasn’t likely he did much of anything for himself. Spoiled, arrogant, bull-headed. I ticked off all his faults even as my eyes studied the square shape of his jaw, memorized the shape of his lips, trailed down each neatly woven braid, counted each bead and bone that stood in stark contrast to his raven black hair. Still feeling the shadow of his warm hand around mine.

I lost track of how long I stood there, feeling my toes go numb, watching him stare at the sky. Finally, he snorted, then shifted and rolled to his feet. Glancing around slowly. I ducked back behind the corner as he did, shivering and wondering if he had seen me. But the rumble of his steps as he turned to climb back up the hill had me daring to peek around again. Watching his retreating back.

Idiot. I thought to myself again, rubbing at my arms. Shivering again, then releasing a heavy sigh. It was going to be a long, cold night. But… maybe it would be the last one for a while…

UPDATE: part four Here

[etruatcaelum]

[ @nothingbutthenight \\ for cinder]

Cinder isn’t altogether sure what brought her back to the convoluted ramble of Mistral’s lowest slums. Maybe a vague impulse to recapture the clear, burning sense of purpose she’d felt the last time she found herself stranded here, alone. It had been raining then; it’s sleet now, pelting down in miserable formless globs of slush.

Prowling through the deluge with nowhere to go and nothing to do is not how Cinder imagined this would go.

She’d planned to run.

Salem would come after her, and the unsettling mask of magnanimity would end. There would be pain enough to make what happened on the whale seem like a kindness, and Cinder would endure it all. No more pretending. No more games. Just the unvarnished truth Salem thinks she’s too stupid to realize, that Cinder is nothing more to her than a pawn, dredged up and laid bare.

Exactly none of that has happened. The dark glint of connection through her arm has lain quiet and still for eighteen days. Cinder made it to Forever-Fall like she’d planned—and there had been no chase, no hunt, no vindicating struggle against her fate.

Nothing.

Several tense, sleepless, uneventful nights led her to conclude that Salem believes she’s bluffing, and even worse was the uncomfortable realization that she might be. Alone in the wild dark of that forest, Cinder found that she could think of nothing she wanted that wouldn’t lead her right back to Salem. In pursuit of a new world…

Fuck her.

Cinder scowls, kicking disconsolately at a loose paving stone. Slush splatters everywhere. She’s not going to give Salem the satisfaction of crawling back empty-handed. She won’t.

She can’t. She won’t.

The problem is that Salem has the lamp and the staff, Cinder can’t retrieve the crown for her without first going back to Beacon, and with the whole world forewarned and rallying to Vacuo’s defense, she doesn’t like her odds there alone. And all Salem cares about, the only thing she wants, is those damned relics.

Snarling under her breath, Cinder whips around a corner. There has to be something–

Cinder never gets cold, but few other people are willing to brave the slum’s tangled byways in such foul weather; so her eye narrows when she sees another person coming her way, bent against the driving wind.

No one down here is worth robbing, and the stranger doesn’t have the bearing of a huntress. Still, Cinder draws an obsidian knife out of thin air to hold in her palm as they pass. Talons on the one hand, a blade in the other: if the woman recognizes her, she won’t have time to scream for help.

[crownedinmarigolds]

Day five of OC-Tober is a go! I'm using bweirdart's prompts! Today's prompt is "relationships."

These are our Setites from our VTM Canon! "Parvati" the Ravnos and Harrakhty Hamdi, a Hierophant of the Setites. This is their meet cute! Info (plus some female presenting nudity art) if you'd like under the cut!

Parvati is the oldest character in our VTM repertoire, we tentatively place her as having been Embraced during the Bronze age of ancient Northern India. She was a wife and mother in a small mountain village in the middle of the jungle, but a passing Ravnos who found her fetching water late at night on a whim Embraced her and buried her. Parvati awoke horrified, starving, without memory, and eventually slaughtered the village she had lived in her entire life. She wandered the jungles, walking amongst the beasts and feasting on them and the occasional unlucky hunter, until she eventually made her ways towards civilization once more. Its call too alluring even for someone like her. She never made a home in one place for too long, but she eventually found a nice empty temple near a relatively bustling town, and began her prowls. The villagers strangely enough seemed to understand what she was, and began to give her offerings to keep her away from their home and off of their streets. She allowed this for a bit of time, though she's a huntress at heart. Soon though, the catch of the situation caught up with her. Turns out, the village was being prowled upon by a Setite temple, and an assassination was called on her for setting up shop in their territory. An up and coming Ancilla called Harrakhty Hamdi was to prove his worth by serving his masters her ashes in a vase. Of course when he enters the temple, he finds the creature inside to be one of the most enchanting visions he'd ever seen. He still fully intended to kill her - but she was striking nevertheless. What follows is a cat and mouse game that spans centuries. Where they would hunt each other for sport, fight until near sunrise, then part to flee to safety with smiles on their faces.

For all of those years it was: "I can't lose to you, I have my pride but wow you're powerful and clearly worth the effort," and then you start having the most fun you've had during your long immortal life and soon the idea of the "enemy" being gone forever when it's over hurts more than the pleasure of seeing them finally turn to ash. You talk over clashing claw and sword, and realize genuinely that you enjoy them.

Soon the words come out: "My darling, soon torpor will take us. Do I leave and find the lonely safety of my dark crypt, or do I stay with you and trust we will wake tomorrow night together? And the following nights to come?" SORRY THEY ARE MY BABIES.

[darkittensniper]

Title: It Reminds Me of You

Pairing: Donna Beneviento/ Cassandra Demitrescu

WC: 2.6k

Plot: Uh.... Cass tries to read to impress Donna with a flower that reminds her of her favorite botanist. Uh... Donna like that shit. Fuck it its just library smut, End of story. Enjoy.

@muffinsin this one for you! Great idea for why our little warrior lady would be in the fucking library!

Donna Beneviento, youngest of the four Lord’s. Even with this, she was taller than both of her older brothers, second only to Alcina herself. The black mourning dress’s she wore always made her seem smaller. Tonight was different, with the moon cresting high, the silver gleam bathed the taller women in its glow. Satin black nightgown, stopping just shy of the tops of her knees. Lithe but well-defined thighs held her weight as she prowled down the rather empty hallways of The Demitrescu manor.

 Commissions that come from her only sister always gave Donna an excuse to visit the manor. Leaving behind the rather deadly whispers of the waterwall adjacent to her own manor. Yet an even better excuse to see her. Cassandra, her little doll. A slight twitch of her eye as her bare feet made no sound. The sweet familiar thump of Cassandras heart, the thrum of her flies.

It excited Lady Donna, folding and molding herself to the darkness creeping along the dimly light hallways, jumping from shadow to shadow, her form stretching, The brown-haired middle daughter had no idea she had been found so quickly. The pages of the botany book felt heavy in her lap. The huntress felt rather silly to creep around her own house in the middle of the night, just for the fact she was too prideful to ever be caught dead in the library. Though Cassie did want to impress Lady Donna in the morning with her newfound knowledge of a certain plant. There was one that had peaked the hunter’s eye, with a frustrated sigh the smaller women got to her feet, slamming the book closed. It had no images, and the name of the flower was escaping her sleep addled brain.

A short temper coupled with the want of sleep, but the sheer drive show Lady Beneviento that she had in fact been paying attention fueled Cassandra. Though she was the middle child, her body spoke of the long years of training. Very proud of each flex of brawn that moved with her as she placed the book back in its place. The firelight of the hearth glinted off the yellow amber of her eyes. Narrowed and searching Cassandra read the dusty leather bond books. The hunters’ flies responded to her simmer fury, various parts of her breaking off into her swarm. The thrum of their wings a calling beacon for the actual huntress.

Donna Beneviento had found her doll. Standing in the doorway of the library, the silly girl had so foolishly left open. Anyone could have been there, not that Donna would ever let that happen. This was all hers. Just hers. The soft brown tresses of hair, rough from laying on pillows not that long ago. Donna’s fingers ached to wrap those locks in her grasp. The long white nightgown hugged shapely hips, the flare of them dimpled with muscle as well as giving fat. Tasting the skin there made Donna’s tongue come out to wet her bottom lip.

Her precious doll, for all of her baser nature and killer instinct had yet to notice that she was being watched.

Cassandra cursed, the raspy lilt of it causing Donna’s spine to stiffen. A wave of sheer need to be the one causing her to say such un lady like things. Yet curiosity at just what Cassandra was doing here stayed Donna making her presence known. For now.

“Fuck, think! It had something to do with silver.” The deep growl after each word cut the quiet.

Wondering how either of her sisters found any type of pleasure in these old dusty pages would never make sense to the little warrior. Sharp edges and leaking blood made sense to her, this didn’t. Snatching the next book she touched, opening it still facing towards the bookcase. Calloused fingertips flipping through the yellowed pages.

“There you are!” Cassandra hissed quietly.

Fangs wickedly curved and sharp flashed as Cassie smiled, having found what she wanted. A silver-colored flower that reminded her of Lady Donna. The illustration had caught her eye first, the medium sized silvery white leaves, with yellow and white flowers. The silky cushion of finely cut leaves made her think of Donnas face.  Most of the words next to the picture meant little to the hunter as she scanned them, finding the bolded name of the plant at the bottom.

“Silver Mound,” Cassandra held the book closer to her field of vision. Like it was going to help her pronounce the next words, ”Artem- Artemis-“

“Artemisia Schmiditiana. They are semi- evergreen, even in winter climates. Apart of the perennial flower family.”

Lady Donna molded her taller frame to her smaller lover, pressing her against the bookcase. The crinkle of the aged pages as the book fell from Cassandra’s grasp. Caught easily with nimble fingers as Donna placed her lips to the cold skin along Cassie’s neck. Both women knew that the brown haired women could just swarm and be free of the Lord’s warm body. Pale hand running up the length of Cassandra’s side as the other reached up to place the book back.

“What is my little doll doing out of bed?”

Cassadra growled, mad that her body was already responding to the little marks and nibbles her Lord was placing along her neck. Gentle arching slope of her nose inhaling fresh fragrance of roses. Something Donna loved about her prized little doll was that no matter how many times she cleaned herself, the smell of the copper crimson liquid never really left her skin. Bloodlust seeped from Cassandra at every given second of every day, It drove the Lord crazy, knowing that with a few choice words and actions she could have this fiercely proud and domineering women fold to her ever command. The lack of an answer started the battle of dominance between them.

Dexterous fingers made easy work of threading between the long tawny colored hair, and  giving a sharp tug. Yanking Cassandra’s head back fully. With the Lords clear height advantage Cass had no choice but to accept the view her Lord awarded her with. The moonlight catching the silver like scar tissue, making it shimmer and dance. Making Cassandra fidget from just how mesmerizing  her Lord looked.

“Answer me.”

The edge of the white gown was being hiked up, the grip in her hair switching to her throat. Squeezing as Donna hunched over her prey, her body all encompassing. Even with both hands occupied Donna had no issue with capturing her lovers arms, the invisible warmth of phantom-like limbs always made Cassie weak in the knees. She could feel them, but no matter how hard she looked she could never see them. An unseen force that could rend flesh from bone without Lady Beneviento lifting a finger.

Their purpose now was different now, used to hoist Cassandra’s arm high above her head, iron clad. The hunter could see the indentation of where the fingers were pressing, but like always could not see them.

“Reading.” Cassandra prodded.

The very act of responding in such a disrespectful way, and stating the obvious had the air leaving Cassies lungs as they were compressed along her ribs. Donna having laid her full weight on her, making the bookcase groan in warning. The easy way Donna could bruise the icy skin along the brawn of Cassandras thigh left them both breathless for a second. The pain of those deft fingers digging in and marking her skin made Cass moan softly. Not just anyone could get her to actively bruise this quickly. This just was for her Lord. The bewitching women looking down at her from way up there.

Trimmed nails making work of yanking up Cassandras nightgown to above her ass, baring the lacy blank panties. The sharp slap making Cass jump slightly but giving little room to move from her hands still being pinned. She pulled back against those phantom limbs but like always Lady Donna could easily overpower her little doll anytime she wanted. The hand around her neck, taking the edges of her vision as Donna bent down and placed a tender kiss to parted lips,

“Try again.”

Another stinging slap to the bared skin under her panties made Cass yelp this time, the pain from this one was twice as intense as the first. Drawing a heady moan to leave her as her thighs pressed together, fighting the warm wetness she felt there. The urge to leave more marks on her perfect doll had the Lord attacking every inch of exposed skin between her hold on her women’s neck and along her shoulders. Blunt teeth finding ease puncturing the hard muscled skin she found. Drawing a pained moan from cupid bowed lips.

“I- I wanted to surprise you my Lord. Wanted to show you that I can learn about something you like. It reminded me of you.” Cassandra  simpered, between pants.

The brown-haired women was instantly rewarded for her answer with warm fingers sliding between the hem of her panties, a throaty groan in her ear as Donna felt her wetness. Sliding strong long fingers between, parting dewy lips. The soft hair framing her sex coated in her arousal. Sweet kisses replaced the hand around Cassie’s throat as she was lifted and flipped to face Donna. The slim waist easily fit between brawny thighs. The hunter was completely left open, the tearing sound of her underwear as they were ripped from her. The rough treatment making the smaller women cream at the thought of more.

Cassadra Demitrescu was a warrior. A hunter. The one who always chased her prey. Yet when it came to Donna, her immeasurable power and dominating aura when she handled Cassandra. It made her fold like paper in the wind, all of the strength and bold actions were just that, actions. She played her part for her family, but in the privacy and security of Donna’s arms she let herself go. Always putting up just enough fight to make her Lord put her in her place.

“Gaurdami. I only will ask once. If you look away for even a split second, I’ll stop.” Lady Donna’s voice was deep from misuse as always.

Making Cassandra shiver, arms still held above her head, the ache of this position made her flush. Though she did as she was told, all to familiar with the husky Italian. She stomach cramped sinfully as she watched long fingers slide down her chest and come to cup her breast through her nightgown. Donna smiled as she felt her lover’s nipples harden instantly under her teasing, groping hand. Her other hand slid over creamy thighs, feeling the tremble of them as she danced her fingers just shy of the apex of Cassandra’s thighs.

Every inch of Cassandra enthralled Donna, the flush of her cheeks, the labored way her chest rose and fell, the soft give of her breast, that fit perfectly in her hand. Amber colored eyes framed by lovely eyelashes, cute little cub like fangs poking. Utterly perfect. Silver-tinged eye finding its way between her legs, finding her open and waiting. Her pussy was drooling for Donna, all for her. Possessiveness corded through her lithe frame, her control slipping, the devouring need to feel her around her fingers.

Cass could see the change instantly; she knew just what she needed to really make her Lord release that demon Cassandra craved. Locking her legs around her torso, pulling the larger women flush against her, ruining her nice black night gown with her slick. A few long hard ruts truly cemented not only her scent but her arousal all over her Lords gown.

“You little infuriating thing.” Donna snarled.

The last layer of chains were snapped, driving two fingers deep inside of Cassie before she could make connection  with the fabric of the gown. The scream that wanted to leave was smothered. Lady Donna having sealed her hand over Cass’s mouth and nose, cutting off all airflow to even scream. Having no control of her arms still she could only take all her Lord was giving her. Talented fingers finding her g-spot, curling around the spongy tissue in a ‘come hither motion.

The velvet smooth walls gripped Donna like an old friend, drawing her even deeper with each thrust. Cassandra looked stunning, her head was thrown back, knocking a few books from shelves from just how hard she was being fucked. Neither cared about the mess, Donna was too caught up with feeling her women freely leak cream down her palm and onto her wrist. How could someone look so beautiful on the precipitous of passing out from the lack of oxygen was a large reason why she kept her like this. Tears starting to fall from glowing yellow eyes, her face a lovely shade of red now.

The trust Cassandra had for her Lord always stopped her from swarming away to breath, she knew Donna knew her like the back of her hand, knowing just how long to hold her. Trapping and forcing her lungs to cycle what little air was left in them to prolong this feeling. The light headedness swirling with the searing pleasure between her legs. When Donna finally gave to rubbing the sensitive  bundle of nerves, no longer wanting to tease her poor little fuck doll.

“That’s it, look at how ravishing you are for me. Tell me who owns this principessa.”

Lady Donna voice was hoarse, pent up with need and icy, full of her rightful ownership of Cassandra. Mind, body, and soul all belonged to the Lord and they both knew it. Releasing her hand from over Cassies mouth, the smaller women gasped and panted as fresh air wheezed into greedy lungs. Even though her vison was blurry with tears she dared not look away from her Lord. The rush of ecstasy threading its way through her body, The indent of the spines of the books biting into her back as she was fucked senseless against the shelving.

“Al- All yours my Lord. Only you own me, no- no one else.”

A prideful purr left Donna as she doubled her efforts, releasing the phantom bonds on her lovers arms with a thought. Instantly finding sharp nails digging into her shoulders as she worked Cassandra. Expert flicks of her tongue along the sweaty coolness of her neck, ragged breathing tickling her ear.

Her fuck doll knew better than to be too loud even with her freely moaning in Donnas ear. These little whimpers and yelps were only for her Lords ears. The burning stretch as a third finger was swiftly added, strong limber arm holding up the brown-haired women’s weight with ease. Toned legs flexing as Cass braced her feet along Donnas lower back. The splendid  muscles found there braced for her, making it all the easier to find purchase.

“Cum.”

Cassandras fangs sank into Donnaa neck as her orgasm curled from the pit of the stomach to every inch of her body. Her toes tingled, spine arching as black blood flooded into her mouth. Drinking greedily as another orgasm slammed into her from her bloodlust taking over, needed to be sated as well.

Donna groaned, feeling her own panties soak through from her arousal. Rocking her gently the rather lewd sound of her fingers sliding free from Cassandra, who for all of her endurance never failed to turn rather limp after Donna was done with her. Cassie licked the bruised skin around where she had bitten. Cleaning up the little drops of black blood that had slipped past her lips.

Waiting fingers tapped at her lips, coated in her creamy cum. Her tongue already drawing them in.

[sketchfanda]

Kirishima's Mystique:Predator and Prey

Somewhere within the deep woods of the forest around Mount Fuji, it was clear blue skies and high temperatures this fine summer. For Kirishima, after exams and a well earned break, he knew he’d love to right about now be on a beach with Mina and Maya or just hanging out around them in general. But instead of being skin on skin intimate with his alien queen and shapeshifting lady of the waves, he was here in the closest equivalent Japan had to a jungle, the sun baring down as he found himself in a literal life or death struggle. It’d seemed some simple enough,the JSDF had been around here conducting training exercises and for reasons unknown, one of the platoons had gone missing, presumed captured.

Of course he was passing by when he overheard the situation and stepped up, volunteering to go find and rescue the band of soldiers. That’d been several hours ago, the noon day sun hanging high above as the Red riot hero rested against a tree trunk while catching his breath. So far there had been no sign of the platoon and he had the sneaking suspicion that whatever got them was up to something. As if whoever or whatever was around here was following him....tracking him down and stalking him, akin to a wild predator seeking its prey.

Unknown to the sturdy hero was that indeed his suspicions were correct as perched high up above on a tree branch, he was being watched. A transparent figure shimmering in the sunlight, its form implied to be very well built and power as its hidden gaze was locked upon the himbo. A distinct clicking or chittering sound heard as its point of view was an infrared spectrum, seeing Kirishima's body heat standout clear as day. Clearly it was liking what it saw as if it could sense the raw strength presiding within the humanoid tank.

Whoever or whatever this figure was, it certainly wasn't human and it seemed to take an interest in him. So much so that unknown to him, the platoon of soldiers had already been released, let go back into freedom as they were deemed unworthy prey. Yes as far as this creature was concerned, the Red Riot was a more worthwhile quarry as the shimmer distortion around it faded in crackles of static electricity. Revealing this enigma to be a female of one of the most notorious urban legends around, a creature from a race of intergalactic hunters who went from planet to planet during the hottest times of the year in their climates, seeking out targets to hunt and worthwhile trophies to claim.

There were many names and titles given to these beings, most common being Predators or their proper designation, the Yautja and this distinct femme fatale had felt itself in the presence of a worthy quarrry. Its ultra-violet vision gazing on him as distinct clicks could be heard beneath its chrome helm as static flicked along her being, rending her invisble once more as she began to stalk and track down the hero in training. She couldn't quite think why exactly, but there was something about Kirishima that stood out compared to those soldiers. He was strong, that much she could tell but seemingly, was it the idea that he came out here all alone?

Whatever the reason, the hunt was on and this femme fatale was on the prowl as the day passed on, seconds into minutes which moved into hours. So far she had to say she was finding the sturdy hero an impressive specimen, as her quarry made the most of their terrain seemingly getting the feeling someone or something was following him. The maze of trees, rubble and paths providing plenty of means for Kirishima to find himself a hiding place, to which the Huntress had to say, was plenty resourceful. The soldiers prior to capture had been panicky, desperate and clumsy but this one was no stranger to navigating his way around in the wild which only made him a potential worthy trophy pending in her mind.

Yet for every moment her quarry eluded her, the huntress found that his survival skills were putting him quite a few steps ahead, enough to have her wondering if at some point that the tables had been turned on her. That she had become HIS prey instead and if that were the case, why did this not worry her in the slightest? Rather if anything it excited her, dare she think it aroused her, sensual pleasure coursing through her very being. To think that on this simple little planet she would find not only a challenging hunt but perhaps a worthy mate, a prime specimen of male that made the Huntress' body burn with a need, a desire to bare his young.

Yes indeed perhaps children from a man such as him would become nothing less than the finest hunters to grace and stalk throughout the galaxy, as her determination intensified along with her libido's thirst. The hunt was on as once the pair caught sight of each other or got within range, combat was engaged. Kirishima quite puzzled as well as surprised to find he was dealing with some sort of alien, a literal extra terrestrial who of course was packing some major heat on her. The Yautja of course only felt validated and vindicated by her instincts and impression of the hero in training as his quirk proved to be more than affective against some of her bladed tools, to say nothing his being able to tank against her plasma shoulder cannon.

Whenever the opportunity to escape and gain some distance to recover and re-strategize presented itself, they'd take it especially to patch up any major wounds. Kirishima wasn't worse for wear bar some damage to his outfit while the Huntress found some of her equipment had taken some of its own. Her cloaking device was now on the fritz, her shoulder cannon bent in disarray and to say nothing of the chips to her blades and yet it only made her all the more aroused. Truly such a thrilling hunt and such an impressive specimen of Man, it was intoxicating compared to the thrill of the hunt.

Particularly when she found her quarry setting up traps here and there, proving no doubt that Kirishima had himself some experience when it came to wilderness survival. Some she was able to avoid but the few that managed to spring up on her naturally lewd to the chivalrous himbo ambushing her for some close quarters combat. His will to fight not out of some need to prove some sense of superiority but the need to survive, it was only serving to further arouse her. Their eventual game of cat and mouse at a pint where they stood across from each other, panting as the sun was setting in the horizon, both a little worse for wear but still raring to go.

Kirishima:”Had enough? Or you thirsty for more? I can do this all day you ugly motherfu-“*Whatever Kirishima was about to say next was interrupted as he heard the Huntress make a strange sound, like a mix of a purr and the chittering of mandibles that dare he say sounded rather sensual? As piece by piece, she began to disconnect and discard her equipment and tools, save for her wrist device as she then began to actually strip naked right before him. The Red Riot’s eyes bugging out along with his jaw dropping as the still helm masked alien babe now stood before him laid bare exposing a thicc, powerful body that’d been trained and honed in the ways of her culture. Her chittering purr growing in volume as unknown to him, her visual scan and visual spectrum could pick up signs of arousal.*

Kirishima had a feeling this now naked Huntress couldn’t quite speak any human language but her body movements were ones he was definitely understanding right now that was for sure. You didn’t sleep with the girlfriends he had and as many women as he had been with sexually and not be able to tell that this dreadlocked scaly alien Amazon was saying “I want your babies you stud”. As she easily dwarfed him at height having to be something like six feet plus If not taller, looming over him as she stood up close and personal to him, her clawed hands on his bare chest as she caressed his muscles. If her message wasn’t clear before, his face being near between those quite firm yet stunning tits of hers was definitely hitting the nail on th head, that was for sure.

What followed from dusk onward was the labyrinth like forest of Mount Fuji echoing throughout long into the night with the sounds and cries of animalistic, passionate mating. The huntress experience a better thrill than that of the hunt, that being claimed by her new alpha male as his quite impressive length and girth thrust and pumped into her slit. The sturdy bingo proving himself quite a capable sexual lover as he displayed and proved his virility an prowess which showed her there being more to sex than she ever thought capable. And she was loving every moment of it, especially whenever he would cum inside her thus ensuring she’d end this encounter carrying a future generation of hunters.

Even in positions where she topped him, she knew she was submitting before him, he was the victor and she was his trophy. Being claimed as only a prime specimen of man like him should, every slap of her ass and squeeze of her tits tempting her to remove her helmet just so she could kiss him and give him oral pleasure. Perhaps next time as she was already thinking of her next return trip to Earth, knowing she needed, had to mate with her alpha male enough to ime to make a tribe’s worth of children. Okay so maybe she was getting a little erotically addicted. Ut why woildnt she with a man like this?

From cowgirl to full nelson, to the intimacy of a standing fuck, being pinned up against a tree or laying on the grass taking it doggy style or prone bone, The huntress welcomed and relished each and every round. Her alpha male not stopping until his powerful cock and balls felt drained, as the pair laid together within the wild, basking in the afterglow. Come the morning Kirishima would’ve thought it was all some bizarre dream had it not been for the fact he woke up naked and alone…save for a necklace of strange exotic animal teeth left by his side. He just knew this would be quite a story to tell Mina and Maya, that was for sure.

The yautja woman of course was seated in the cockpit of her spacecraft, heading back to her home world. Rubbing her stomach contentedly having no doubts she had claimed Something far better than a hunting trophy. Yes indeed the first of many children she hoped to receive from her alpha male that would be raised and trained to become skilled and strong hunters for generations to come. Already awaiting and counting down the days until her return to earth and the pleasure that would follow meeting her stud once again.

[poorbrokemess]

Possible Circe/Kirke alter

I work mainly with the more masculine deities. So I'm unfamiliar with the femininity this one exudes. Wild feminine. Like a prowling huntress in the trees.

I do belive it's Circe. Because of the *clicks* I felt when I said her name.

I guess it's time to start working on my mama drama since someone seems to think I'm ready 🙃😅

Anyway, whomever it is really likes tea, Encanto, lions, and nature in general.

Encanto and lions. Encanto.

Flashes of the main character, and the little dudes panther. Also, the little figurings were all over places they shouldn't be the past few days.

Even went out of my normal area 😅

When I watch the music video clips of the songs I get goose flesh and chills.

Any ideas besides Circe anyone ?

[thedarksidesoffice]

It had been some time since Angela had hunted here, but it was due time for some easy kicking back. The smaller viruses were like shooting rats in a haybale, but there was no real danger, as long as she stayed out of the office.

She prowled around loudly, occasionally picking off a weaker virus and slinging the remains into a bag at her side. Chimera had warned her again for this sort of behavior last week, but there really was no harm in just hanging about, she wasn't stupid enough to anger anyone in the office for a second time.

@sovereignsecurity

Unfortunately for the Huntress, something new had found these sparse grounds. In this scenario we shall refer to this thing as the Tracker.

That same thing, that insidious, loathsome thing had been stalking around the area for something that had peaked it's interest. Something that it just simply couldn't leave alone. That flicker of vibrancy had soaked into it's monochrome, restless eyes and had entranced him not unlike the other creatures that parasite has lead in. But this time the affection was not of adoration or even understanding; this thing has never seen another like him that was in such a high tier. Where he usually roamed, there was nothing to even challenge it's mass, it's stature. But now..? Now that it KNOWS there's something similar to himself, it wants... a conversation.

It wants the challenge.

But now it lingers in unfamiliar territory, unaware of the things in this zone- Mono does not intend to leave without having his dance, so it's best time he got acquainted.

[dystopyx-blog]

HUNTRESS

A woman corrupted by obsession.

She's always on the prowl for new prey.

She sees a man and becomes instantly obsessed with him.

She'll follow their every move, learn everything about them, then capture them and play with them until she's ready to claim their head as her trophy. Wash, rinse, repeat.

But it’s all in good fun! She;s just very loving and affectionate! She just… doesn’t know her own strengths and slice-y-ness…

Except, then…

How does she manage to so elegantly hang up her victims’ organs in trees like ornaments?

She lives in the slender woods, and decorates her part of the woods’ trees with her special “ornaments”, but she is unaware of its influence.

She’s supposed to be a praying mantis 🥲

headcanon voice def Sarah Jessica Parker as Sarah Sanderson.

Nakey mantis woman below

BACKSTORY

LOOK AWAY IF YOU DONT WANT CONTEXT AND JUST ENJOY THESE CHARACTERS AS KILLERS (valid and real)

Hahaha plot twist, Huntress doesn’t have any one story, she’s my 100% true creepypasta scary story 🫵🫵

a lot of the stories behind her are her being wronged by men/a man in her past and then losing it and then becoming a monster

Perhaps woman was simply always monster.

who knows.

fuck it, come up with your own origin story for her if you want lmao I think that’d be sick af.

[simsandchesscrossover]

Nepeta: Introduce yourself.

Your name is NEPETA LEIJON, and you are a HUNTRESS! Your favorite hobby is ROLEPLAYING, in which you pretend to be a FIERCE LIONESS who prowls around, leaping out at unsuspecting prey and then dragging them screaming back to your DEN. It’s tons of fun, and your LUSUS loves eating the trolls you catch! You’re lucky you enjoy it so much, since your lusus is ALWAYS HUNGRY.

Nepeta: Examine shipping wall.

Which one? You have your FRIENDSHIPPING WALL, showing all the possible romances between your dear allies, and your FOESHIPPING WALL, showing your enemies’ friend groups and who to take out to throw them into dissarray. Easy pickings!

Most of your friends think that your method of hunting is creepy. Your MEOWRAIL described it as “Incredibly Offputting And Seemingly Unethical”. You disagree: it’s only as unfair as using weapons against unarmed woodland creatures like they do! There’s always going to be a food chain, and there’s no place for you but the top.

[lucan-multiverse]

[sometime in the future]

-

“You do realize I am a biotically enhanced super soldier, right?” Mason said skeptically, eying the woman in front of him. She stood watching him, one hand on her cocked hip, dark wavy hair tied back at her nape and a smirk on her lips that made him feel horribly old beyond his years.

He remembered what it was like to be this self-assured. Fearless. In his prime, he’d been one of Cerberus’s best phoenix, had been made squad leader and had more kills under his belt than he cared to think about now. He had honed his biotic abilities to rival an asari huntress, capable of commanding mass effect fields down to the smallest degrees and he was treated with the most bespoke implants and the best money could buy.

He wasn’t like that now.

“I hear that’s the rumour around town. But I’m no slouch when it comes to biotics myself.”

“No,” Mason hummed, eying her some more. “You wouldn’t have been. How did Cerberus never find you?”

The smirk slipped from her face at that and she straightened, her gaze somber. “There is no Cerberus in my world. There was no first contact war.”

Mason spent a moment trying to imagine it and came up empty. “Must be nice,” he mused, wry. “Your world sounds charmed.”

“It is,” Maisy said simply. “And we plan to keep it that way. That’s the only reason we’re here.”

“He knows, doesn’t he? That if we fall, you will too.”

“You know Isaac,” Maisy lifted her chin, no small amount of pride in her voice. “He’s not an idiot.”

He couldn’t help the chuckle at that. “No, he’s not.”

--

Maisy Cerrillo was a better fighter than Mason expected her to be and-

She fought dirty.

Mason panted as he dodged another swing, easily moving out of her way but still oddly surprised at her unrelenting pace. They had agreed on no biotics, no weapons, just hands and fists and feet. The rules were loose beyond that, something Mason realized too late he should have been clearer on when she lifted one booted foot and kicked at a workout bench to send it careering towards him.

It hit his ankles, unbalancing him enough that he lost concentration and the next thing he knew he was struggling for breath because she had just punched him in the throat.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she glared at him, fists high and dark brows knitted in concentration. “Like I’m not going to use every advantage available to me. I don’t have a intergrated bone weave or mesomuscle enhancer over here.”

Mason pulled himself up, tossing his head and shaking out the effects of her punch. In the corner, he was aware of an audience gathering – although he could have done without Ajax’s scoff and less than helpful remarks.

“No,” he watched her, circling slowly. “That’s smart. You should take every advantage.”

Maisy grinned, the edge of it slightly feral. “Thanks, but I wasn’t looking for your permission.”

She moved again, fast and fluid in a way he has never been able to be, her lithely powerful body far more flexible than his own heavier frame. She spun and Mason braced himself for another upper body kick – only for Maisy to drop and skid right through his spread legs, leaving behind searing pain where she jagged him in the groin on the way through.

He swore, frustration and exhilaration warring inside him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d fought without using his enhancements – the Berlin’s crew were too fragile and he knew even warming the Captain’s bed, Isaac just might space him if he accidentally broke any of his crew.

Speaking of Isaac-

Maisy clashed against him again and he grabbed her wrists, grunting slightly at the force she exerted. He was curious about her Isaac, the young admiral who seemed so far removed and both a carbon copy of the man he loved all once.

They grappled and Mason caught her eye. “What is it like? Being married to him?”

The question surprised her enough that she hesitated and Mason used the lapse in her concentration to shove her across the mat. She landed hard but was back on her feet, snarling hard and prowling like a panther ready to pounce within heartbeats.

Then her stance changed. The smirk was back. “It’s fantastic,” she said sweetly with a toss of her head. “He knows exactly how to touch me, brings me breakfast in bed every morning, gave me his babies, holds me in his arms at night. All. Night.”

Something burned in Mason’s chest. Jealousy. It was bitter in his mouth. And yet it didn’t stop him asking for more. “How did you meet?”

Maisy frowned at him over her raised, clench fists, assessing. He knew she was trying to work out his play, scrolling through the options in her mind. In truth, Mason was sort of wondering too. He didn’t know why he was asking these questions. He didn’t know why it burned him so much that Isaac had been in front of him for so long and he hadn’t even realized it.

Even as the thought came, he knew what would come next.

The captain and the admiral had one thing in common. One glaring, painful fact Mason told himself he shouldn’t let hurt like it should. They didn’t trust phoenix.

Mason put his frustration into a punch that landed hard. Maisy grunted and there was a collective gasp around the room as she made contact with the mat. He had forgotten about the audience, wondered how many of the Berlin crew were there, how many of the other. He supposed they made quite the spectacle. Two tall, dark haired, green eyed figures trying to wail the shit out of each other just for the hell of it.

He stood over her, chest heaving, prepared to hear her yield when she pushed herself up and flipped to kick his legs out from under him.

He was inching his way back to his feet when he heard Berlin’s engineer Luca yell “Go Mom!” and Maisy was so startled he was able to regain the advantage.

“Okay,” she panted, looking up, wild eyed but staring not at him but at a chagrined looking Luca at the edge of the mat. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Why not?” Mason asked, releasing her so she could sit up. He looked over and it seemed like Luc was giving the younger version of himself an earful.

Maisy pulled her knees to her chest. “Because up until now, he’s completely ignored me.”

“Who? Luca?”

“It’s so confusing they have the same names.”

“I know,” Mason chuckled. He got to feet and without thinking he offered Maisy his hand to help her up only for her to roll her eyes and slap it away. “At least Luc has the grace to shorten his. I’m surprised he’s ignored you though. He’s always seemed a bit… needy. I thought he would jump at it.”

“I got that too,” Maisy said, her voice low so it wouldn’t carry. Luca was filing out of the training deck with the rest of the crew, the show now over. He glanced back only once, dark gaze skittish under his curls before disappearing around the corner. “But when I went to talk to him, he told me-“ Maisy raised her fingers in air quotes, “’I don’t need a Mom, I already have a daddy’”

Her face was a mask of distaste that made Mason laugh. “Yeah. You’ll get used to that.”

“I’m not sure I will.”

“Look, it’s normal I guess. You look at him and see your Luca all grown up. But that’s not him. Your Luca is safe back on Terra Nova. This Luca… well…”

Mason trailed off then shrugged.

“I know,” Maisy sighs as she wipes her face with a towel. “Still weird.”

“Tell me about it.”

Maisy caught his eye again and snorted. “You’re a bit like the big brother I always wanted.”

Mason was mildly amused by that but then he thought of Kate. “What’s Kate like? In your world?”

“Happy,” Maisy answered without hesitation. “Married. Three kids. Her husband adores her. She’s… she’s alive.” Maisy frowned, realizing what she said. “Not that… your Kate… isn’t but… What happened to her?”

“You’d have to ask her about that. It’s not really my story to tell. We’re not… We didn’t grow up together in this world. We aren’t that close.”

“Oh,” Maisy said softly. She held a cold water bottle in her hand, rubbing the condensation on the side absently with a practical lengthed, neatly manicured thumbnail, lost in thought.

Mason took a moment to put the room back to rights before gathering his own gear, aware that Maisy’s eyes were following him.

“Something else?”

“The captain...” she started hesitantly. “He needs you.”

Mason smiled tiredly. “Not as much as I need him.”

[cilil]

Summer Stories

AN: For @hirazuki whose amazing writing keeps inspiring me. Please have a look at "Something in the Darkness" if you enjoy this ship, it's probably my favourite Eöl x Aredhel fic to this day.

Prompt: Shade | Eöl x Aredhel Synopsis: Eöl is out in the woods. Aredhel finds him. Warnings: /

He had been resting against the mossy bark of a great tree, nearly dozing off, when he heard soft footsteps in the grass. 

She was barely clothed and her feet were naked, deceptively delicate and vulnerable, yet she walked with the poise and elegance of a huntress prowling her domain, knowing exactly what she wanted. 

Eöl held out his hand, a smile tugging on his lips. It seemed as though she had been looking for him, and he would most certainly not decline her silent invitation. No matter how tired he was or how much his muscles ached, the need for her would always be greater. 

Aredhel sat down on his lap, straddling his hips. Her smile was soft, yet her eyes shone with hunger and triumph alike. She knew her desired prize was hers the second her nimble fingers took hold of his shoulders. 

"Out hunting without me?" she teased, bringing their foreheads together. 

"I would not dare," Eöl mumbled. His lips search for hers. "I know you will always find me." 

"Indeed," Aredhel whispered. She toyed with him for a few more seconds, denying him as part of her game. "And now that I did, I believe I deserve a reward." 

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider liking and reblogging! ♡

[contaiinedarmageddon2]

❌ + sollux is accidentally pounced by nepeta uwu

The coordinates were locked. The calibrations were underway accompanied by the usual sounds of calibration: the whumph of air being displaced and a subtle clapping noise. The mighty huntress was on the prowl! She'd caught the scent of big game and her nose never lied. Why whatever monster this was seemed to be stalking Mr. Catpurr of all people was a mystery, but the scent was all over his pants so he must be her lead to it! The foolish city boy might have thought he was safe, doomscrolling his phone in this meteor lab intersection, but little did he know he could be attacked by a wild beast at any moment! It was a good thing he had a guardian of the wilds on the prowl.

"1 L1K3 YOUR CUT G."

Ambushed by foul invention! A sly dragoness has snuck up on our feline heroin-

*WHAP*

Terezi might be a compact sort but it was all condensed muscle. Nepeta's mammoth, hallway blocking cheeks heaved with the force of the slap, colliding into each other wildly. On instinct Nepeta kicked off, coiled leg muscles springing outward. But all her careful calibrations were ruined! Instead of diving upon some hideous beast, she tumbled through the air haphazardly to the ringing sound of tealblood cackling. Sollux, looking down the dark hall to try and see the source of the meaty whack and accompanying chuckling instead saw twin comets be flung out of the shadows in a high arc before coming down. He had just enough time to recognize Nepeta's inadequate jeans, always half-slid off her gargantuan hips, before his head, shoulders, and the rest found themselves swallowed in the cat's crack.