#within the depths of a darkened forest

[bunningchaos]

Desolate

Haha! Next part to the KVAU backstory done!

↼↼{Previous} - {Next}⇀⇀

Original Killer belongs to RahafWabas, on Tumblr!

Summary - Having firmed his resolution to persevere and locate the one whom pleaded for help. Nightmare arrives to find...

None other than Killer.

Link to the AO3 for the chapter

Drawing without the effects since the boi looks cool

Anyways

✕-✕

“YEAH LEAVE AND DON’T FUCKING COME BACK!” The forest echoed loudly, carrying that infuriated scream within the dense woods and trailing off. Though it’s only followed up by more curses filled with hatred and anger, having zero ounce of positivity within it. If anything, the acrimony increased with each words that spills.

“Asshole.” He hisses with disdain, kicking a rock that’s in his path. Tightening his grip on a knife in his possession, slamming the blade into a nearby tree. Puncturing it through the bark entirely, almost like that wasn’t enough to quell the rampaging bitterness in his soul which is pulsing and getting further deformed from it’s original shape. A target circle. Killer, clenched his hands into fists before punching the same tree. Ignoring how his knuckles gradually cracks and bruise under the harsh impact

It continued on until he can barely feel his phalanges anymore, letting it droop to the sides. Blood trickling from the fingers whilst the darkened liquid dripping down his sockets thickened in amount and consistency, tainting the once snow-white cheekbone and dripping onto the snow beneath his feet. Unironically enough, staining the ground.

“Piece of shit, turning your damned back on me.” Sneering at absolutely noone, but the empty air. The cold breeze blew past him as white puffs of air slips past his parted mouth. Teeth then gritting together as he gazed down at the forsaken glowing object, refusing to maintain a singular shape, floating within the front of his chest.

Irritating, irritating, irritatingirritatingirritating—-

Why can’t it simply cease hindering him? Disappear and never appear within his sight ever again, time and time again, he tried to will it away. To shove it within his ribcage- like what he saw for other skeleton monsters, better yet, every single monster– their souls were always carefully and safely tucked away in the magic-fueled body.

So why the fuck is his so insistent on settling out in the open?

Curse this forsaken thing, as if it isn’t already a curse itself in the first place. Why? Killer isn’t certain, whoever damned this unholy affliction upon his entire-being.. should go rot in the deepest depths of hell. So far off that he don’t get any chances to go after them. For the murderous urges within, spikes up drastically.

He’ll make them suffer ten-time over, no, hundred times. Repetitively, for the culprit- if any- to feel the living hell he was put through for years.

He barely understood anything about it. Not of himself, how he came to be. Even his own name, the one thing that should’ve at least given him a clue as to who he was, were as good as non-existent.

No matter how much time passes, the amount of agonizing headaches he endure just to search through the blurry and fragmented memories in his head- it’s all for naught. Time and time over, he wanted to rip his skull apart. Tear the forsaken soul which lingers appallingly by his chest. The multiverse forbids him from setting it to waste. End his life that holds no meaning.

Exception for the sickening joy he sought for, during a murderous spree. Their pain thrills him, the way they cry out for mercy, scream at him for being a twisted psychopath. How the life in their eyes slowly extinguish as he lands the final strike.

They called him a ‘Killer’, and he relished in it.

Why not just take that ‘name’ and embrace it? It isn’t as if he had any idea what else to address himself as anyways.

It’s the only thing that gave him a purpose.

Though as soon as it’s over..?

The feeling leaves his chest, cold emptiness fills him up at the end of it all.

In midst of all those void-like emptiness, there were times he could hear voices. Echoing, covered by static- making it difficult for him to hear what exactly they’re saying. The first few times were easy to brush off, yet as the days passes. It worsens, louder. Noisier. Terrifying even, it keeps on saying things that barely register in his mind but it’s enough to make him paranoid.

He can’t see.

His vision keeps on blanking out during those ‘episodes’ or so Colour would call it.

..

Right.

..

Colour, his friend, the only person that actually managed to stand his ground against him.

The sole person whom reached out to him, offered to be companions. Saw that there were good in him, despite Killer’s lack of understanding. Incapable of grasping what the other even meant, yet he took the warm hand that were provided.

Going along with his new-found friend.. 

It wasn’t an easy journey. The beginning was rough. Regardless of Colour’s constant attempts to talk Killer down and avoid another slaughter-fest, it usually end up fruitless. With Killer fighting against his own friend instead. Even stomping off alone at how.. nice Colour was. Without fail, he keeps looking at Killer with such softness in his eyelight. Gaze which held an incredible amount of hope.

It’s almost nauseating.

Not wishing to potentially disappoint the bundle of hope and joy, Killer began masking his true intents. Indulging in the various activities presented. Slowly getting acquainted with a few other monsters that were hesitant to accept Killer initially. However, with some convincing from Colour and the sight of Killer not acting up maliciously for a period of time.

They opened up to him, allowing him into their lives and also making themselves a part of his. It was peaceful. Life would’ve been perfect, yet Killer felt nothing.

It’s empty.

The gaping hole within his soul were always lingering within the back of his mind.

Everyone is smiling, laughing. The wondrously sweet moments, it should make him feel something too. Right?

He tried so hard to blend in with the crowd. Shove down the overwhelming urge to stab someone. Feel their blood on his hands, just for the temporary sense of peace. Managing it is difficult when Colour checks on him time after time, and even spend plenty of days by his side. Gradually loosening up and allowing Killer to spend time in public alone.

Oh that has got to be one of the worst possible mistakes ever.

All went well formerly, till Killer inevitably snapped. The voices swirling around his mind, echoing. Taunting, were far too loud to push aside. Coldness filling his soul and pleading desperately for some relief. To feel something.

It wasn’t intentional. Oh stars, he never meant to break Colour’s trust in him. Yet the moment Killer regained a sense of clarity.. All he saw was red. Mangled corpses of humans and thick ashes of white scattered in the surrounding.

Within all of those, were traces of belongings that were familiar. Did he also hunt down the ones that seemingly considered him ‘friends’? Though it wasn’t reciprocated properly. Yes, yes he did.

The next few moment was all a fuzzy mess. He could’ve sworn his vision blurred once more, clouded by splotches of black which spilled down his cheekbones. The consistency of the unknown substance growing thicker and much more frequent with each passing seconds.

A low blow was the sheer disbelief and shock that showed within Colour’s face for no more than a split second. Overtaken by a softer gaze, as he advanced towards the carnage. Reaching out to hold Killer, the familiar warmth was soothing. Least, it should’ve been. Yet all that the skeleton felt, was freezing and unrelenting emptiness.

Again.

And again.

He can’t feel a single thing. Except pain.

Whilst the cruel, taunting voices only gets louder. So much so that he ends up arguing and fighting with Colour due to more reasons than one. All of which kept on piling, snowballing till it’s nearly impossible to figure out why each issue stirs up.

Would it be wrong for him to simply forsake everything by now? Give into the voices, allow it to puppeteer him as it pleases? Lose every ounce of control he had?

He just wanted to feel something. Find out what he’s forgetting, why does he even exist? Do he even have a purpose in the first place? Did he belong anywhere? Is he truly incapable of doing anything other than murder senselessly for nothing but a temporary respite and silence within his mind?

Nothing could be found out about his soul, nor the strange substance that spills down his sockets. Staining everything it touches with a surge of black, that could barely be washed off. The stain is near permanent, it’s disgusting. Repulsive. The shape of his soul too, why is it circular? Similar to a target. These were puzzles that he couldn’t solve, like there was missing pieces that is scattered which he’s unable to retrieve to fit it back in place and understand himself.

Was it normal to feel close to literally nothing? To have voices speaking within one’s head, over, and over. With no clear coherent voice or words? This was torture, it wouldn’t ever stop chattering. Whispering.

Why is it excruciatingly painful when the voices start? His soul seem to also be reacting heavily to it, aching. His entire body feel so heavy. Even without the tortuous whispering, it’s naught but agony.

It hurts.

It hurts so much

Make it stop.

Someone. Anyone.

Please make it stop.

Ithurtsomuchplease

Help

Godithurtspleasemakeitstop

Someoneanyonepleasehelpme

Stepping foot into the universe where he felt the overwhelming negativity from. Where the cry for help continuously echoes, so loudly that it’s ringing within his head. Just who could be in this much agony? Wrong as it is, the tremendous power spike he felt from just this one individual alone was excessive.

No, is it really just one person? It feels as if there’s multiple. There’s just no way a singular person can withhold this much agony within their entire being. This intense surge of anguish is unlike any that he’s ever seen before.

Glancing around, the place he arrived in. Was far deep into the woods, almost similar to where he previously were.. If not for the difference in atmosphere, the air is so much heavier. Suffocating even.

The snow falling from the sky was thick, temperature dropping with each passing seconds. The chilly air stung his bones, exhaling a small puff of white smoke from his mouth as he advances towards the source of negativity.

It’s potent, concentrated entirely to one particular direction. Which he followed, despite all red flags blaring within the back of his mind. Yet, do he care? No, he don’t. Getting hurt isn’t even a concern that he bothers with anymore.

It wouldn’t even matter if he end up suffering the consequences of recklessness if the cry for help is nothing but a lure to drag him out. Would the one that overtook the body of his twin, fall so low to use someone to force him to take action? Perhaps, or maybe not. He barely understood him anymore.

Not anymore.

The snow crunched underneath his foot, one foot forward and another. It’s gotten so thick and high that he could hardly walk properly. Having to pull his leg nearly up to his chest, just to take a step onwards.

Keep going.

The cry for help tugged at his soul, a unknown feeling that he’s long buried away amidst all of his own suffering.. were slowly creeping back up.

It doesn’t take him long to locate the source. Coming across a skeleton, crouched over on the ground. Hands grasping tightly onto his skull while a consistent burst of eerie, darkened and purple aura spill from him, invisible to all but Nightmare. The negativity is so much stronger now that he’s merely a few feet away.

He could see a flicker of red lingering within the front of the stranger’s chest, though with how he’s slumped over. It’s difficult to pinpoint what exactly was giving off such bright yet unsettling glow. The pure-white snow was stained to the brim with black, almost like Nightmare’s own goop that would dirty every spot the tendrils touched.

..Why do this feel so familiar?

His soul throbbed deep within his ribcage, worry.

Sympathy 

Concern.

He wanted to help this person.

No, he has to.

This wasn’t logical, but he had long decided that he would do his best to save someone. No matter the cost, the chance is right here too.

Though, it didn’t feel as if it was out of the selfishness of wanting to leave a mark. To be important, no. It was like he genuinely wished to actually pull the other out of the constant stream of pain that he’s in.

It’s almost like the past where he would give up anything and everything just for his twin.

Taking a deep breath, Nightmare slowly approached. Kneeling down infront of the unidentified skeleton, who barely even noticed his presence. Choked sobs of distress and incoherent pleas slipping out of the poor guy’s mouth, though the sorrow was all too clear. Nightmare could still hear his voice crying out internally.

How can he even help?

How did he manage to calm his brother down in the past?

Come on. Hurry, think.

Night. Think.

If he could reduce the amount of negativity from the other, consume it and force him into a state of calmness.

He could.

He can.

It’s been so long since Nightmare last attempted this, tapping into others’ emotions to sap it away. ‘Feeding’ on the negativity to fuel himself

It can work.

He just has to hope he don’t mess up

Reaching his hands out towards the skeleton, Nightmare cups one of his cheek and gently tilts it upwards to make direct eye-contact. Ever so softly hushing him before leaning forward to rest their forehead together, a dim purple glow engulfing them both. Taking this chance, to also lightly grasp the red, fragile object that seems to be spazzing out and spiraling

Killer stiffens up at the touch, who is this? What is going on? Did Colour come back? This didn’t feel like the usual pair of hands that’s offered out to grasp onto his. It felt so..

..soothing…?

A shiver ran down Killer’s spine at the chilly sensation that washed over his entire body, his soul gradually slowing. No longer twisting and swirling into a deformed mess. Calming down to it’s original circular shape. His vision were still so blurry, unable to see anything but black and red. Yet, he could clearly feel someone holding onto his cheek, and his forehead pressed against something or rather- someone.

Having someone touch his soul oh-so carefully, felt strange. No one actually tried to make contact with it at all in such a way, if anything. He’d usually see them trying to yank it just to test how he’d react

That much was easy to figure out, due to the soft whispers that took over most of his attention. Quietening down the voices that he originally thought was ceaseless. However, it.. stopped?

It’s silent. Abnormally quiet within his head, hearing absolutely nothing except the uttering that he could barely even catch.

….

Uncertain on how much time had passed, the whispering stopped once Killer gradually eased up. Much to his disappointment, the gentle grasp also pulled away from his skull. Allowing him time to properly sit up, rubbing at the black streaks running down his cheekbones from both sockets. In turns, slowly clearing up his vision at the same time. 

Ugh it’s disgusting.

Glaring down at his hands, stained with an inky mess. He finally took a look at the person that were on their knees infront of him. The first thing that catches his attention is his own red soul, floating atop the other’s palm.

Who..?

..An angel? No, no that didn’t seem like one. Not from the few narratives he’s heard of- pure white wings, with golden halo that rests above one’s head. Soothingly warm presence and gaze that wills upon a surge of comfort.

Yet, this other being that appears so frail and worn-out - the complete opposite of what ‘angels’ are rumored to be - rather than a hollowed-out circular ring that stays above his head, there’s a golden crown with three symbols resting at the very front. In the shade of such vivid purple, one moon within the middle and stars at the sides.

Violet eyelight, which holds a mixture of caution, and undeniably an obvious amount of worry. It wasn’t as bright as the sun, far from it. It’s.. close to what he can describe as the moon that hangs above a darkened night sky.

In place of soft, feathery white wings.. is what he could assume, to be a surge of goop. Similar to slime, barely swaying behind the other. One might even deem it unsightly and unnerving, but to Killer? Oh stars, the way it moves was mesmerizing.

He wants to touch it, feel the texture underneath his phalanges. See if it’d react to his touch, perhaps even curl around his palm as he lavish it with attention..?

Ah, his thoughts were drifting away. Finally, refocusing on the smaller one entirely. Killer’s breath hitched in his throat, biting back any words that threatened to spill. By no means were the magnificent being emanating any warmth, if anything it’s cold. A relatively delightful coldness.

Never have he seen someone so beautiful. Skewed as it is, he could argue that THIS was an angel. To him, let others’ opinions be damned. The more he looked at the unknown stranger in front of his very eyes, the further his mind reaffirmed it’s statement.

Without his realization, his own eyelights briefly reignited itself within the usually empty sockets.

He could’ve sworn the accursed soul was shifting in place within the other’s icy grasp, a singular phalange trailing over the delicate surface as if it’s a precious gem.

“Are you..-” The voice caught Killer’s attention entirely, perking up much like a puppy would when hearing it’s owner’s voice. Hell, if he had a tail, it’d definitely be wagging.

“How are you feeling?” Melodious, akin to an alluring lullaby. One that could easily put someone to sleep,

…

“Can you.. speak?” Nightmare questions hesitantly, wondering if perhaps the other were uncomfortable with his presence. Despite not being able to sense any bit of it, or maybe his capability to detect one’s emotions properly weren’t at it’s tip-top condition anymore. Having been focused on sensing even the smallest bit of positivity in an attempt to slip away from a certain someone’s grasp and sight.

Though that’s not important right now. Not this moment

“Hello..?” The lack of answers made everything awkward. The tension was high enough as it is, till Killer finally opened his mouth. “..Beautiful”

..Huh?

Now that was completely abrupt, with nothing to back it up whatsoever. Catching Nightmare by surprise, blinking once, twice. A tinge of purple quickly dusting his cheekbones at the compliment, puzzled by that. Of all things he was expecting to hear, this was definitely not one of it. It’d make sense if the other demanded for the red object back! Or, lash out at the unconsented touch- usage of magic on him and all.

Yet, he receives a compliment? Killer seemed so awestruck, which were the truth. He’s mesmerized by Nightmare. Yes, this was their first meeting. No, he have never heard nor seen the other before. However, there was just something about him that captivated Killer’s attention. Perhaps the fact regarding how Nightmare practically silenced the torment he’s forced to face on a daily basis? The lovely and welcomed coldness that soothed his very being?

Killer can’t tell right now.

“I’ll.. take that as a compliment, thank you” Nightmare let out a small chuckle, and stars above. Killer could’ve sworn his soul was throbbing. Pulsing within the gentle grasp, to which earned another small rub. Sending shivers down Killer’s spine, how can someone be this.. soft towards him? It wasn’t even like Colour behaved this way too, no matter how much his friend claims that he cares- that he believed in him. There was always a distance between them, one that Killer could never afford to cross nor step over the invisible boundary.

“Who… who are you? What even are you? Why are you-” Too much questions at once, overwhelming to some extent. Which Nightmare halted, by simply raising a finger up with his free hand.

“I go by the name of Nightmare,” Addressing the first inquiry, he tilts his head slightly. Offering a small smile which made the object in his hand give another shake, odd. “I’m but a wandering traveler” 

A white lie, not entirely the full truth but also not false. Nightmare had been traversing through various universes on a daily basis. Never having a proper place to settle down to call ‘home’, much as he’d love to have a safe space. To finally relax, toss off the intense dread and fear of being taken back to the hellhole, by the side of the sole person he used to trust with his entire life.

“You seemed to be in.. distress. Are you perhaps feeling any better?”

Killer stares, gradually giving a small nod instead of simply gawking at Nightmare like a absolute fool.

“Uh, feelin’ alot better. That’s for sure, thanks Night” Unbeknownst to Killer himself, he unintentionally shortened the other’s name. By the time he realises? It’s too late, oh great. He screwed himself over again, didn’t he? Made himself look like a complete idiot that listen properly to one’s introduction and-

“That’s a first” A small giggle slips from Nightmare, catching Killer offguard. He.. wasn’t mad? He’s actually laughing at such a silly slip of the tongue?

“How may I address you?” The question was simple, one which is normal to be asking another upon meeting. But Killer felt like he was over the moon at the small hint that the other was interested enough to be engaging in a proper conversation instead of scurrying away or leaving as soon as the chance is given. That or, avoiding him like the literal plague. Those aren’t the worst, of course. He’d rather be left alone than to.. Be looked at with pity or like he should be experimented on.

“Killer.” What a strange choice of name, who would name someone ‘Killer’? Then again, it isn’t as if Nightmare had a better name in the first place, so he wasn’t going to comment on it. Other than internally wondering why the other was named as such when he seemed relatively harmless. An unusual individual, that’s for certain. Although when it comes to malicious intent? Nightmare couldn’t sense any.

Which further confuses him. Why and how did Killer end up feeling that devastatingly crushing pain and panic?

The question was right on the tip of his tongue. Alas, he doesn’t actually bring it up, as he himself isn’t going into personal information as such. Reasonable so, as they both just met for the very first time.It wouldn’t be right to dive into heavy topics off the bat

“Well, I reckon it’d be alright for me to depart now.” Returning the glowing, circular object to Killer. He gently grasped it and let it linger by the font of his chest. Watching as Nightmare gets up onto his feet. Causing an unknown spike of emotion to surge through the skeleton’s mind.

Is he leaving this quickly? Will he ever see him again?

Nightmare reluctantly stepped away. It would be amazing to converse more with someone else other than his own thoughts, but he had stayed in one spot for longer than he normally would. Besides, with the large amount of negativity moments ago, he’s certain the person he’s been avoiding the whole time, will definitely come over and risk catching him

He don’t want to be alone.

“Wait!” Killer hurried to call out, using a arm to push himself up onto his feet in a rush. The sudden movement giving him a headache, everything spun. However, he was quick to grasp onto one of Nightmare’s hand. Holding the small, petite wrist.

“You’re… a traveler, right? Could I.. tag along?” It’s rash, there isn’t a singular thought nor reasoning behind this severely impulsive request. None at all, not even a tiniest shred. Surprisingly not just Nightmare, but also himself at how he’s acting out all of a sudden.

“I’m sorry but my paths aren’t always the safest and switching between places is common” An explanation was given from Nightmare whom awkwardly glances away. Having to omit plenty of details and ensuring it’d make sense from a outsider’s perspective.

Was that enough to get Killer to back down? Nope! Not even one bit, if anything it encouraged him further. “I can protect you, I’m good at fighting.” This was slowly leaning to desperation, for more reasons than one.

Killer wishes to remain by this person’s side. He made his soul.. flutter. Feel emotions that he normally wouldn’t, and the voices- just being by Nightmare- was enough to get it all to shut up. Be it temporarily or permanent, it wouldn’t matter one bit. If one view this in another way entirely, it’d just be seen as Killer wanting to take advantage of someone that could help him, and is then willing to stick closely.

To say Nightmare was surprised was an underestimation. He did not stop to think that someone would be willing to offer going along with him. It will definitely lead to multiple issues, especially with Dream constantly on his tail. Hunting him down. How would that even be explained? Would it actually even matter?

Anyone near him is bound to end up being in trouble. However, at the same time? Nightmare couldn’t shake off the small anticipation within himself. He could maybe, finally, have someone he could deem a actual. living companion by his side. One that he had successfully managed to calm down, without things going wary. Nothing went wrong!

Maybe, just maybe. The same thing may end up occurring again, and if Nightmare agrees to have the other with him. He would be able to instantly provide comfort and assistance. 

But..

Dream wouldn’t like that. 

It may provoke him, should he ever find out about this and.. And he’d likely be hunted more than he already were.

“I swear, I can be a good bodyguard.” Killer reassures, cutting Nightmare’s train of thoughts short. That singular promise seems to confuse him more than ever. Why was this guy so insistent on coming?

“Please.” 

Nightmare bit back his words upon hearing that singular plea, of all emotions to be sensing from Killer. It’s desperation and loneliness. Something that he was familiar with. Was this part of why Killer’s soul cried out so loudly? Because he’s seeking for a purpose and something is weighing him down? Pulling him to the very depths of the sea and drowning him?

It’s like Killer is longing for something, which Nightmare couldn’t exactly place a finger on. Not right this moment at the very least.

“It’d be.. dangerous.” Nightmare began hesitantly, piquing Killer’s interest. Listening attentively, and expectant. The small surge of hope felt so foreign. “I can’t assure you that I’ll be able to keep you safe, and..-”

There’s so much that he’s not comfortable sharing right now. Not now. It’s difficult to trust someone on a deeper level, with how deeply scarred he is when it comes to trust and love.

That subtle frown spoke volumes. Killer, despite his incapability to properly indulge in emotions and understand them personally.. had  always known how to read one’s facial expression and body language. It felt like second nature, 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” That one sentence brought forth more reasons and emotions than Nightmare would’ve liked. The very same things that Dream would tell him time and time again, to comfort him. With the adoringly wonderful smile and soft gaze.

He missed it so much.

No, no he can’t sidetrack in his thoughts right now.

If he were to allow someone else, especially a frail mortal, accompany him. It’d only endanger the other’s life and put a huge target on his back. How can he afford to pull someone into his issues when he can’t even protect himself properly?

When he nearly gave up, forsake himself to a eternal slumber. Had it not been for the sudden plea that jolts him right back. To find a purpose in helping someone, and.. then what?

Abandon them as soon as he calms them down? Is this what he’s going to do? When there’s a clear offer to finally have someone by his side, after a long, desperate and lonely years of mindlessly wandering?

He could provide solace to this poor soul, take him in and guide him away from the pain- shelter him from the overwhelming negativity that is slowly threatening to creep back in. This wouldn’t exactly be a unfair ‘trade’ either, as Killer would also be granting him the very thing he’s been craving.

Companionship. 

A guardian shouldn’t be like this, yet.. He had long given up on that role, perhaps just this once. He could try to see how things go. If he can’t protect his own sibling from going down the wrong path, he could.. Help this one person out. Right?

“There is alot of things that I wouldn’t be able to explain.” Nightmare began slowly, turning slightly to face Killer properly. Looking him straight in the sockets, observing him carefully “It’d be confusing and not make any sense.”

..Why could he not detect any doubts whatsoever within him? Why do Killer want to trust him so much when this is the first ever encounter they had? If anything, there is an unwavering determination deep within that felt extremely foreign. 

There isn’t a shred of malicious intents either.

Why? Just why?

Is it normal for someone to be this hellbent on.. being loyal? Was Nightmare overthinking this, or perhaps he isn’t and being cautious like he normally were, is good?

“If you’re still willing to, I can take you along.” This wasn’t a vow, it never is. Nightmare wouldn’t ever, but a verbal confirmation to ensure that Killer had the decision to accept or deny. “At any point if you feel like wanting to part ways, I’m more than okay with letting you go”

No more words needed to be said, Killer shifts his hand to properly intertwine his fingers with Nightmare’s, Tugging it up to his mouth before planting a small kiss on the back of it. Which essentially confused and also embarrassed the smaller one, cheekbones flushing bright purple as he averts his gaze. Was this really necessary?

“Thanks, Moon” Nickname already..? This guy sure is bold, but it’s a welcome sight.. A change of pace from talking to himself.

Nightmare pulls his hand away, sighing. What an odd individual, turning away before opening up a portal. 

The purple vortex swirling was mesmerizing, the magic that sparked off the edges. From the looks of it, Killer would’ve mistaken that for a brief glimpse of the galaxy manifesting in a small area. Curious as he may be, he dared not ask questions.. yet.

There was so much inquiries he wished to blurt out, the main thing was- how did Nightmare even manage to have this much of an effect on him? Even Colour struggled to snap him out of his usual episodes, especially one as bad as earlier. It was a near miracle that it occurred when no one else was around, or that he didn’t simply lash out. The result would’ve been horrible, like usual.

Frankly he wasn’t expecting to have been eased into calmness so easily. Almost as if the other had simply took away the anguish. Surely that’s impossible, right?

“Killer?” Hearing his name being called in that sweet, gentle voice. Snapped Killer right out of his thoughts, head tilting in confusion. A clear sign that he had been zoning out the whole time, unintentionally letting every single things that Nightmare might’ve said, fly right past his head!

“I was asking if you’re ready to head off” Despite the facade of false peace written over his face, an underlying sense of apprehension and caution could be seen through. Tension within his shoulders, eyelight darting occasionally to the surrounding, and subtle fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves. It’s all too clear that something’s going on. Truly, Killer found it all to be weirdly exciting. Thrilling. Not once has those emotions arise for anything except murdering or torturing another to a slow, painful death.

Yet now? He can sense them! Why? That is a question for later, how? He shall know in due time.

All that matters is ensuring he remains by this unique individual’s side. Clinging to the one person that gave him the rare chance of quietude and so much more than what he could possibly ever hope for. Despite how small this favor was to anyone that might be confused if they ever catch wind of this brief encounter. To Killer? It meant the literal world, to have the voices finally cease it’s endless torment, to no longer experience absolute emptiness within his soul.

“Shall we?” Nightmare offers, holding a hand out. Blissfully unaware of the countless thoughts running wildly within Killer’s head. The accursed soul threatening to reshape itself, if Killer didn’t relax.

Taking the outreached hand, Killer gave a small squeeze. “Let’s.”

With that, they stepped through the portal and left.

Would Colour end up coming back? He’s uncertain, there were times that the guy disappeared for days on end. Be it during an argument or not, though the former usually lead to Colour’s disappearance lasting for longer. Of course, Killer appreciated everything that his friend had done for him. But, it just wasn’t the same. Colour didn’t understand at all. Time and time again, repetitively.

He could’ve sworn things started going wary when Killer brought up a particular topic..

..Was it even important anymore..?

Whatever.

He can think later.

The portal then closes.

“Oh stars, this is going incredibly wrong! He won’t be happy about this”

[keisobe]

: 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 — (𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦 + 𝐥𝐨’𝐚𝐤 𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲)

— from avatar 2 : the way of the water (spoiler free!!)

contents. gn! reader, reader is a omaticayan, established relationships, angst, hurt/no comfort, emotional neglect, small kissing scenes, male red flags, the sully brothers being bad boyfriends + wc. 1.1k

notes. okay, so i write a lot of romantic + fluff drabbles of neteyam and lo’ak but i wanted to switch it up and write their red flags because guys are … guys. i realized i wrote a lot more for lo’ak, so i’m sorry about the word count difference between neteyam and lo’ak’s drabbles. enjoy reading some gut wrenching angst ♡

── ✦ 𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐌 always put his family first. it was always charming to see him quickly scoop tuk into the warmth of his embrace or aid his mother when her emotions got too overwhelming. the days where you both spent together, making each other beaded jewelry or stargazing always put a smile on your face. until those days were always cut short. 

“sorry, dad needs me right now,” neteyam would push you out of his arms, rushing to gear himself with his woven pouch and poisoned arrows. he leaves a chaste kiss onto your cheek and hairline before he sprints into the forest.

it’s his family, it was okay. 

“kiri needs my help,” your body felt cold again— watching him sit up as he adjusted his leather belt, storing his hunting knife. 

no word was spoken from your lips, instead you replied with complete silence. neteyam didn’t glance away from his scattered belongings— collecting them as fast as he could. 

this time there wasn’t a kiss, but only the coldness biting your bare skin— neteyam ran off once again.

okay, this wasn’t okay.

“hey, is everything all right?” his honey glazed eyes shifted from the dusky sky, now gazing at your contorted features.

though you wanted to hold back, lie to his face. the feelings became too overwhelming— you had to tell him.

“no neteyam, nothing is all right,” you sat up, gazing down at the incomplete bracelet that sat limp on your dainty wrist.

“what’s wrong?” neteyam replicated your movements— sitting up as he gently rested his hand on your shoulder. 

there was a brief pause, the rustle of leaves filling the silence. neteyam was patient, watching your small movements. a sniffle came from your nose.

“it’s you,” your lips quivered as you said that. “you keep leaving me.”

neteyam shuffled in his seat a bit, a dry chuckle escaping his lungs.

“my family needs me,” he excused, shaking his head at your words. “you know that.”

he would never understand, it made you angry.

you swatted his hand off your shoulder, scooting away from the warmth of his skin— as much as you didn’t want to.

“no neteyam, it’s hard,” you turned your head away from him, tears welled up in your yellow eyes. “it’s like… like you don’t value our time.”

his lips pressed together as he avoided your gaze, thinking about what to say.

before neteyam could reply back, you stood up without ease— swiping off the tears that fell on your arms and knees.

“this time i’ll leave first,” you muttered, escorting yourself into the depths of the darkened forest.

guilt buried deep within neteyam’s gut. he had to make it right, but did he have time to get to you before—

“bro, i really need your help, like right now!” lo’ak’s desperate voice blasted through the speakers of his throat comm. 

his eyes glanced back and forth between where you left in the hollow forest to the familiar direction of his home. 

slowly adjusting his heavy pouch and clawed knife, neteyam takes a deep breath, turning his thick heels towards the right— back to his home.

family always came first and it’ll always be like that.

── ✦ 𝐋𝐎’𝐀𝐊 lived life on the edge. venturing out when everyone else rested for the night, weaving through the thick veins and feeling sap kissing the bottoms of his feet. there was always a surge of energy when he didn’t stick to the rules— he didn’t feel bound by his family, by the people from his clan. though his risky attempts to sneak off every night led you to be the one always by his side. you just wanted him to be safe.

“lo’ak, you’ll definitely get in trouble for this!” you warned, watching him skip across the tree bark towards an unknown, mossy area that was banned from being entered.

he briskly looked back before taking another leap, a smug smirk planted on his face.

“come on, don’t be such a wuss,” lo’ak shrugged his shoulders, voice sprinkled with utter sarcasm. the tips of your ears burned with frustration but also a tinge of fondness.

when he ran off, you followed.

“don’t hold that lo’ak!” lo’ak waved the heavy gun into the air, his finger lightly settled on the trigger.

after a successful raid, the omoticaya clan celebrated into fits of traditional cheers and clatters of new military artillery were being passed along to a more secure storage area. lo’ak happen to get his hands onto a stray gun left during the raid.

“it’s fine, my dad taught me how to use it,” lo’ak reassured, aiming the gun towards random directions. you let out a sigh, a small smile snuck onto your face.

“lo’ak!” a familiar voice shook your spine.

the olo’eyktan, jake sully, stood tall among the crowd— a scorn tucked into the wrinkles of his face.

quickly, you snatched the gun from lo’ak’s grasp, throwing it down onto the dirt floor as you knelt down. you felt jake’s presence grow near, every nerve in your body felt like needles prickling on your skin.

you picked up the gun, raising your head high to meet jake’s hard glare.

“this was a stray gun, someone probably dropped it while it was being passed,” you explained, gently handing the gun to jake.

lo’ak didn’t say a word, silently observing you deceive his father.

jake simply nodded, fishing off the gun from your grasp— walking off towards a group of fellow clan members to continue the formation.

“thanks,” lo’ak smiled, kneeling down himself to give you a tight back hug. the two you erupt into relieved laughter, a plethora of kisses adorned your face and shoulders.

when he’s in trouble, you covered for him.

“what is the meaning of this?”

neytiri and jake eyed both of you in disappointment— watching the fiddle of your fingers and the way your eyes darted with nervousness. once again, lo’ak ventured out into the forbidden parts of the forest, forcing you to accompany him. both of his parents caught you in the middle of the act, dragging you back home without a word.

“it was me,” you raised your hand, looking deeply into lo’ak’s worried eyes. “i wanted to see what was there, so i forced lo’ak to go with me. it’s all my fault.”

neytiri pouted at your explanation, glancing at jake for his insight. with a silent agreement, they both nodded their heads.

“then you’re banned from hunting for a week,” jake announced, the color in your face vanishing completely.

lo’ak flinched at his father’s words, his lips parted— but nothing came out.

though you took the blame, you wanted lo’ak to at least defend you— maybe even confess to all his rebellious behavior that put you in so many difficult situations.

neytiri walked over to you and firmly latched onto your arm, escorting you back into your tent.

you looked back to lo’ak, but he never met your eye.

when he’s silent, you took the blame for him, but he couldn’t bring himself to say a word.

© 2023 keisobe – please do not copy any of my writing and repost or translate to other sites.

[bookished]

MOONLIT NIGHTS: THE CABIN CHRONICLES

ㅤㅤㅤNEXT PART

MASTERLIST | INBOX | TIP ME

-> Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x f!reader witch

-> Summary: Geralt of Rivia faces the impossible: he is defeated by a monster and, in the middle of trying to escape after being severally wounded, finds a cabin, where a witch who knows what he needs, cures him.

-> Rating: +18

-> Word count: 2.2k

-> Warnings: smut, kinks including breeding, rough sex, neck biting until blood comes out, degradation, domination, a little bit of praise kink, dirty talking

-> Notes: i've been rewatching the witcher and reading lots of fanfics, i got so in the mood of writing a piece and i hope you enjoy it! <3

Geralt of Rivia rode through the dense, ancient Caed Dhu forest, his silver hair glistening in the dappled sunlight that filtered through the leaves. He had been on the path for days, following rumors of a dangerous creature that plagued the nearby village.

As he ventured deeper into the woods, he couldn't shake the feeling that this particular hunt would be different.

In the heart of the treacherous Caed Dhu, Geralt of Rivia, the renowned Witcher, found himself in a dire predicament. A contract had led him deep into the ancient woods, where he faced a foe more formidable than any he had encountered before. The beast, a grotesque hybrid of wolf and wyrm, had proven to be a match for Geralt's skill and swordsmanship.

As the moon hung low in the night sky, Geralt's silver sword clanged against the creature's impenetrable scales. The battle had raged for hours, and his strength waned with every strike. Blood oozed from numerous wounds, staining his armor and leather boots. His trademark white hair clung to his sweat-soaked forehead, and his golden eyes burned with determination.

But in a moment of miscalculation, the beast lunged forward, its jaws snapping shut around Geralt's forearm. Pain seared through his body as his bones cracked, and he let out a roar of agony. With a swift, desperate maneuver, he wrenched his arm free, leaving shreds of flesh in the creature's maw.

Battered and bloodied, Geralt knew he was outmatched. With a heavy heart and aching limbs, he made a fateful decision. He turned and sprinted through the darkened forest, leaving behind the monster he could not defeat. His every step sent waves of agony through his injured arm, but he pushed himself to the limit.

As he escaped, he couldn't help but reflect on his countless battles, his victories, and his unshakable resolve. Yet, this time, survival took precedence over valor. The Caed Dhu closed in around him, a labyrinth of twisted trees and shadowy threats. Geralt, the fearless Witcher, ran for his life, vowing to return to face the beast another day, once he had healed and prepared for the inevitable rematch.

Deep within the heart of the dense and mysterious Caed Dhu, Geralt of Rivia stumbled upon an unexpected sanctuary. The cabin's solitude was a haven for a Witcher in need, a sanctuary where he could mend his battered body and prepare for the inevitable return to the treacherous wilderness.

The cabin stood as a solitary sentinel in the depths of the forest, its timeworn facade hidden beneath a canopy of thick foliage. With aching limbs and a resolve unyielding as steel, Geralt pushed open the creaking door and stepped into the dimly lit interior.

Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of herbs and alchemical concoctions. The flickering candlelight revealed a modest yet well-equipped witch's lair. Shelves lined with vials of potions and bundles of dried herbs stretched to the ceiling. A cauldron simmered with a mysterious brew, its aroma tinged with both magic and healing properties.

He needed rest and healing. Inside the cabin, a fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow across the room. The scent of herbs and potions filled the air, a telltale sign of a fellow witch's presence. He knew he wasn't alone.

From the shadows, your hooded figure emerged, revealing the gentle features of a young witch. You had been tracking his progress and had prepared the cabin for his arrival.

He got a closer look of you, which allowed him to see the medallion of the Viper, which matched your dark green eyes, that were glistening under the candle's light. You were, definitely, one of the few Witches left after the Trials that erased most of them from the surface of Earth.

Without a word, you approached Geralt and began to help him remove his clothes, your touch gentle yet firm. As the clothing fell away, his battle-worn body was exposed, covered in cuts and bruises. He hissed in pain as you examined his wounds.

"I'll take care of you, Geralt," you murmured softly, your voice soothing. You mixed herbs and applied salves, tending to each injury with practiced care. Your fingers moved with a grace born of years of training.

Geralt watched you work, silently grateful for your presence. The pain began to ebb away as your healing magic flowed through him, knitting his flesh together.

Once the wounds were tended to, you stepped back, your eyes meeting his yellowish ones with a warmth that belied the harsh world they inhabited.

"Rest now," you said, guiding him to a nearby bed. "You've earned it."

As he lay down, his body slowly relaxing, Geralt couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the kindred spirit who had tended to his wounds. In a world filled with darkness and danger, he had found a glimmer of light and solace in your healing touch.

Also, your touch brought up a slow burning fire within him, making him feeling the need in his body to bring you closer, to lick you, to taste you. He needed to show gratefulness by giving pleasure to you after healing him with such care and knowledge... as if you knew exactly how his body reacted to each one of the remedies you were using. That made the White Wolf groan in approval.

He couldn't help but grab your wrist before you stepped back, not applying so much pressure to hurt you, but enough strength to keep you where you stood. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, making you stare back at his intense stare.

He started slowly and gently rubbing your inner wrist, where your pulse was accelerated, with his thumb calming it, you, without words, and no further movements needed.

"You're safe, Geralt. You made it home. Let me go, and you rest." You whispered, not wanting to break the calm and enchanted ambience. You don't know how you managed to sound firm, calm, steady and confident, but your tone left no doubts.

He kept staring at you, his jaw tense while the candles in the cabin lightened his skin, and you couldn't help but break eye contact and admire his body. His injured body. But, also, his fit figure.

Suddenly, Geralt pulled you into him without effort, and a groan escaped from him, low and deep. Something that made your body really happy, but you knew you couldn't risk hurting him more than he already was. You needed him fully recovered.

"If you want to keep that hand and arm, I'd suggest you let go." You had no choice but to warn him.

"I can smell you, Witch." He simply replied, his voice low and raspy, while not letting you go. You swallowed the lump in your throat, as you smelled his arousal, too. There was no possible denial in what was going around between you two, in that cabin, as the darkness of the night and the moonlit mixed with the candles surrounding you both.

With his other hand, he grabbed the Viper medallion hanging from your neck, pulling your face closer to his while keeping his firm stare at you. You could even notice the smallest of the dilation of his pupils in that position.

"After taking care of me, let me take care of your needs, witch." Geralt whispered. You knew fighting him was useless, and you couldn't deny the way your body was craving him, either. He tilted his body, not giving a flying fuck about his fresh wounds.

You stared down at his lips, and back to his eyes. He grinned a little before grabbing your medallion and pulling you close until both of your lips were a wet mess against each other, not even letting the air pass between you two.

You moaned against his lips, your groans and whines making him feel rougher and animalistic each passing second. His hands were everywhere on your body, not allowing even one millimeter of skin escape from his touch.

No previous warning, he ripped your dress from behind and continued tearing off your undergarments. You were speechless as you could only feel him. You tried touching him, but he didn’t allow that. He had you naked in front of him in a matter of seconds.

Furthermore, you looked into his eyes, waiting for his next move. "Geralt-" You were anxious for more of what he had to offer.

"You're exquisite, aren't you, witch?" He was appreciative of your exposed body in front of him, meanwhile using your condition as a pet name, which didn't annoy you at all.

He took your silence as an invitation to switch positions, grabbing you by a fistful by your long hair, having you bent over the same surface he was laying on not long ago.

Geralt directed his right hand to your pussy, moving his fingers between your folds while humming appreciatively at your wetness. The sounds filling the room, and the sights you had thanks to the little mirror that wasn't too far away on the wall in front of you, were too much to handle. It didn't take long for your thighs to begin to shake, and the White Wolf knew it too.

His hand, which was teasing you, was now wrapped around your small neck, pushing you down, taking out his digits, spreading you apart with his large girth, and slamming into your cunt.

As you wrapped your small hand around his, he tightened his hold on your neck, taking your gesture as an invitation to be rougher.

He tilted his body on top of your back, replacing the hold of his hand on your neck with his teeth burying in the delicate spot of your skin, as he kept slamming into your wetness, and you could feel his medallion swinging over you as his movement fastened, and his cock was buried deep, still pounding, into you.

"Ah, fuck, Geralt." You mumbled, not being able to keep your eyes out of the reflection in the mirror. The candles lightning his sweated skin, you underneath him as he dominated you on that unstable surface and his aura surrounding your senses.

Your hips began to move on his, as you needed that sweet relief. Geralt's bite on your neck became harder and you could feel and smell a bit of blood running down your skin, which heated up both of you even more, if possible.

His groans were louder against you, the slamming of his cock inside of you more frenetic and he dug his nails into the sides of your hips to keep you steady. He let go of your neck to press his mouth on your shoulder. "You're so fucking tight and behaving like a good girl," he moaned. "Keep milking me, witch, so I can breed you and fill you up with my cum until it oozes out."

The way he was talking to you, saying those things, had you closer to the edge. You needed to feel his cock pulsate inside of you, stretching you out and getting you full of him. Your moans were unstoppable as nonsense dripped out of your mouth.

"I wanna see those pretty thighs of yours covered with my cum." Geralt wrapped an arm around your waist to hold you in place as he circled your nipple with his thumb and index, pinching it.

“Yes, Geralt, yes." Your mind was blank, dazzled with lust and desire, almost making you forget your own name.

Your thighs began to shake, and he felt them, “Yes, witch, come all over my cock.” His encouraging, husky voice praised you. You called out the White Wolf's name, your orgasm hitting hard and uncontrollably, your head dizzy as you saw stars and lights in your vision.

You felt Geralt exploding inside of you, with a few more snaps of his hips against your ass you felt his girth tighten up, and a few more spurts of his cum filling you up as you rode off your orgasm.

"Fuck, you milked me so good, you emptied me, didn't you?" He moaned and grunted again as he felt your pussy tightening lightly on him. "What kind of witchcraft did you use on me, huh?"

He let go of your breast, not moving his position so you were still under his dominant figure while his cock rested inside of you, feeling your thighs sticky of his cum and other mix of fluids.

"Well, you loved the way I was curing you earlier and the attention I gave you, didn't you, Witcher?"

"I'm not one to turn down a healing session when I'm offered one." Geralt whispered in your ear, still not getting off you. "But what's the catch?"

You smiled, feeling chills down your spine. "The catch is, I get to pamper every inch of you and make sure you're completely healed."

"I think I can handle that kind of catch."

Did you enjoy it? Please, consider leaving a comment, reblogging, sending feedback in any way or buying me a coffee. If you would like to request something, go and message me. Also, if you'd like, you can check my masterlist or send me any prompts. Happy reading!

[vilentia]

Shattered Love

Thranduil x reader

Summary: Thranduil's world shatters when he loses his beloved wife, plunging him into heartbreak and sorrow.

Warnings: death, grief, violence, loss

****

Thranduil's heart felt heavy as he stood on the balcony of his grand halls, gazing out into the darkened forest. The moon's pale light cast an ethereal glow upon his sorrowful face, highlighting the lines of anguish etched into his features. The air was heavy with a haunting silence, broken only by the distant howls of the wind.

His mind was haunted by memories of you, his beloved wife, whose absence now gnawed at his soul. The weight of loss seemed unbearable as he recalled the fateful day when everything changed.

- start of the throwback-

"Please, my love, stay within the safety of our chambers," Thranduil pleaded, his voice tinged with worry. "I cannot bear the thought of anything happening to you."

But you were determined to stand beside him, to fight alongside him in the face of encroaching danger. The battle drums echoed through the forest, signaling the impending doom that awaited them. Thranduil, ever the protector, wanted nothing more than to shield you from harm. Yet, against his wishes, you insisted on joining the battle.

As the clash of swords and the screams of warriors filled the air, Thranduil fought with unmatched valor, his heart gripped by both fear and determination. With each fallen foe, his eyes searched desperately for your figure, praying that you were safe. But fate can be cruel, and tragedy struck when he needed you most.

A piercing cry tore through the chaos, causing Thranduil's heart to stop. Time seemed to slow as he turned, his eyes widening with dread, and the world around him faded into insignificance. There, amidst the wreckage of the battlefield, he saw you crumpled on the ground, surrounded by the lifeless bodies of their enemies.

A strangled gasp escaped his lips as he raced to your side, his movements fueled by desperation and disbelief. His hands trembled as he knelt beside you, his fingers brushing against your ashen cheek. His gaze traveled over the wounds that marred your delicate form, each injury an agonizing testament to the violence that had consumed their world.

"No, no! Please, my love, stay with me," Thranduil pleaded, his voice a broken whisper that barely carried above the din of battle. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the dirt and blood that stained his skin. His voice cracked with anguish, raw and filled with an inconsolable grief.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his grip on you tightening as if he could will life back into your fragile body. His hands trembled as he traced the contours of your face, memorizing every curve and crevice. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a desperate attempt to share his breath, to infuse you with his own life force.

But you were gone, stolen from him by the merciless hands of fate. The battle around him faded into a blur, his senses numbed by the magnitude of his loss. The once vibrant forest now held only shadows and echoes of a love that was torn away too soon. Thranduil's anguished cries mixed with the sorrowful howls of the wind, merging into a haunting lament that echoed through the desolation.

He clung to your lifeless body, his tears mingling with the earth beneath them. In that moment, the weight of his grief threatened to consume him entirely. His heart shattered, leaving behind a void that could never be filled. And as the world continued to spin, unaware of the tragedy that had unfolded, Thranduil remained locked in that moment of unbearable sorrow, forever haunted by the memory of a love that had been wrenched from his grasp.

- end of throwback-

Thranduil's grief never truly faded, even as years passed. The wounds remained fresh, and the weight of loss burdened his heart each day. He had built a façade of strength, concealing the depths of his pain from the world. But in the solitude of his chambers, where the echoes of the past lingered, he allowed himself to release the anguish he had held within.

Alone amidst the flickering candlelight, Thranduil finally succumbed to his sorrow. His regal composure shattered as he sank to his knees, his body trembling with the weight of his emotions. A guttural cry escaped his lips, tearing through the stillness of the room.

"I miss you," he whispered, his voice choked with grief. "Every moment, I miss you."

The tears flowed freely, cascading down his face and wetting the cold stone beneath him. It was a release, a catharsis he had denied himself for far too long. The pain surged through him, tearing at his soul, but he allowed it to consume him, for in that pain, he found solace.

In the depths of his anguish, he held onto the memories of your love, cherishing them as a bittersweet reminder of what they had lost. He allowed himself to mourn the life they could have had, the dreams they could have shared.

As the tears subsided, a weary calm settled upon Thranduil. He rose from the floor, his face marked by a raw vulnerability that few had ever witnessed. He knew that he would forever carry the ache of your absence, but he also understood that life must go on.

With a newfound determination, Thranduil wiped away his tears, his eyes now harboring a flicker of resilience. He would honor your memory by protecting his people and ruling with wisdom and compassion, just as you would have wished.

And so, he stepped out of his chambers, his regal demeanor intact once more, masking the grief that lay just beneath the surface. But deep in his heart, he knew that your love would forever guide him, a beacon of light in the darkness that surrounded him.

[horeformilfs]

Pray

Mother Miranda x Fem! Reader

TW: Abuse, Crisis of Faith

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

The moon hung low in the night sky as Y/N, fueled by desperation and the echoes of pain, ran through the dense forest, leaving the chilling whispers of her abusive past behind. Tears blurred her vision as she stumbled upon the old church, its dilapidated walls standing as a witness to the secrets it held.

Breathing heavily, Y/N fell to her knees, the cold ground beneath her offering a stark contrast to the warmth she sought. In the hallowed silence, she poured her heart out in fervent prayers, hoping for salvation from the torment that had defined her existence. As the final words left her trembling lips, she wished for a savior, an angel to lift her from the abyss.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, her prayers reached the ears of a being far beyond the comprehension of mortals. Mother Miranda, the enigmatic figure who held sway over the village, heard the desperate plea that echoed through the night. Moved by an inexplicable force, she materialized before Y/N, her presence shrouded in an otherworldly grace.

"I heard your prayers, child," Miranda spoke, her voice a soothing cadence that seemed to dance with the whispers of the night. Her hand reached out, an offer of comfort, but Y/N flinched instinctively, hands defensively shielding her bruised face.

Miranda's gaze, sharp and perceptive, fell upon the visible wounds that marred Y/N's fragile form. Concern etched her features as she gently inquired, "Who did this to you?" Y/N, eyes cast down, remained silent, the weight of unspoken pain bearing down on her shoulders.

A soft touch, almost maternal, rested on Y/N's shoulder as Miranda spoke again, "Was it your parents?" Y/N's eyes welled with tears, a silent admission that spoke volumes. Miranda, understanding the depth of the suffering before her, wrapped Y/N in a comforting embrace.

"Child, you are not alone," Miranda reassured, her words a balm to the wounds that scarred more than just Y/N's flesh. "You've found your way here for a reason, and I will help you find the strength to face the darkness that has plagued your past."

In the ancient church, bathed in the eerie glow of moonlight, Mother Miranda became an unexpected beacon of solace for Y/N, offering sanctuary in the midst of the forsaken.

The embrace from Mother Miranda was an unexpected warmth in the cold chapel, a glimmer of solace for Y/N's battered soul. As Y/N's tears continued to fall, Miranda gently withdrew, maintaining a respectful distance. Her gaze, filled with a depth of understanding, lingered on Y/N's bruised and broken form.

"Come," Miranda encouraged, her voice a gentle melody. "Let me tend to your wounds."

They moved to a weathered pew, where Miranda produced a small vial from the folds of her robes. The liquid within emitted a soft, soothing glow as she carefully applied it to Y/N's injuries. The pain began to subside, replaced by a healing warmth that seemed to radiate from Miranda's touch.

"Thank you," Y/N whispered, her voice a fragile echo in the sacred space.

Miranda nodded, her eyes reflecting a compassion that transcended the boundaries of mere sympathy. "You have endured much, child. But know that you are safe here."

As the physical wounds began to mend, Miranda turned her attention to the emotional scars that ran deep within Y/N's heart. "Tell me your story, if you feel ready," she encouraged, her presence a comforting anchor in the storm of Y/N's past.

Y/N hesitated, her gaze fixed on the floor, memories of pain and fear threatening to resurface. But the trust Miranda exuded, the sense of understanding, urged Y/N to share the burden she had carried alone for so long.

"It was my parents," Y/N finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "They were... they were supposed to protect me, but instead, they became the source of my torment."

Miranda's expression darkened with a stern resolve, her features hardening against the injustice of Y/N's plight. Yet, her touch remained gentle as she offered words of reassurance. "You are not defined by the cruelty of others. You have found your way here, and I will guide you toward a path of healing and strength."

The chapel, once silent witness to the agony within Y/N's heart, now held the promise of a sanctuary where a wounded soul might find refuge. In the presence of Mother Miranda, Y/N began to glimpse the possibility of a future unburdened by the shadows of the past.

In the quiet chapel, the weight of Y/N's confessions lingered, and Mother Miranda's unwavering support became a beacon of hope. As the healing glow of Miranda's touch continued to work its magic, she spoke with a tone both comforting and firm.

"Y/N, the path to healing is not easy, but you don't have to walk it alone. The village may be steeped in darkness, but within you resides the strength to overcome it."

Miranda's words, like a gentle breeze, stirred a newfound courage within Y/N. The walls of the chapel seemed to fade away, leaving them in a sacred cocoon of shared vulnerability and understanding.

"Take my hand, child," Miranda offered, her hand extended toward Y/N. "Let us face the dawn of a new day together."

Y/N, her heart stirred by a mixture of trepidation and hope, accepted Miranda's outstretched hand. It was a symbolic gesture, a silent pact forged in the quiet chapel between a lost soul and the enigmatic figure who had appeared in response to desperate prayers.

Guided by Miranda's steady presence, Y/N felt a glimmer of strength, a flicker of resilience rekindled within. As they left the old church, the moon casting its ethereal glow on the path ahead, Y/N dared to believe that the darkest night might give way to a dawn of redemption.

In the enigmatic embrace of Mother Miranda, Y/N found not only solace but the promise of a journey towards healing—a journey that, despite the scars of the past, held the potential for a brighter, more hopeful future.

[necroromantics]

🧺 — Laundry And Taxes

the prologue. // (masterlist)

“We have to get out of here now, Toby!” The gruff older man shouted through a hurried breath. The man's arm was draped over Brian's shoulder, as they rushed to get out of the surrounding destruction. The trees that once stood so tall, unshakable, were shrieking and collapsing like injured tendrils. Skies once a cool gray were now consumed by a deep, dark red illuminating the woods. The earth beneath their racing feet was wilting and convulsing, as though it was attempting to reject a virus.

“I can’t leave without her,” Toby’s voice cracked with worry. As the forest collapsed around them, the younger boy desperately shouted out, hoping somewhere, she was still out there looking for him too. His heart was beating like a violent drum in his chest, his hands were bloody from searching recklessly through the debris.

Just mere hours ago, the group of men had been sitting idly in their meet-up point, a small worn down cabin deep within the depths of the woods. Staking out, taking apart guns and putting them together again, catching up on much needed rest. It wasn’t long though before they heard a series of loud, thundering booms roaring across the wide dark spread of the evening sky. They quickly exited to the outdoors, just in time to witness the blue-gray skies be overtaken by crimson clouds rolling in. The red hue that surrounded them was almost blinding, and everything fell silent. They held their breath, eyeing the environment for any sign of life or movement. It was as if, for a moment, every creature, being, entity, life, in that makeshift forest had died.

In an instant, everything exploded out into a rough and quick series of sudden demolition. It was loud, terrible, like the tortured screams of 5th hell, commanded by the end of the world itself. And if those men didn’t make it out in time, they would’ve been consumed by the destruction as well. There was no time to think, they needed to act, and they needed to act quickly.

Dread filled their strong hearts as they sprinted through the forest terrain. Shrill shrieks in the heavy atmosphere, loud crashing of trees collapsing, ground shaking, darkened red skies falling. Running faster than his legs could keep up with, Toby came to a sudden halt, which caused him to jerk forward and stumble for a moment before he turned heel and began to run back from where he came.

“What the fuck are you doing kid?” Tim shouted out after him.

“I need to find Natalie!” The boy screamed back as he continued rushing through the battlefield, trying desperately to avoid the hurling branches and rocks that had been picked up by the rough winds.

As he ran aimlessly around the wreckage looking for the girl the other men knew as ‘Clockwork’, Toby felt himself choking back grief, fear, a melting pot of despair and desperation. He shouted his throat bloody, yelling out her name over and over again, creating a dark symphony alongside the screaming trees. Everything was happening so quickly. The ground beneath him was collapsing. The life around him was shriveling and dying. He had no time, he needed more time, he pleaded for more time. Debris was flying around him, nipping at him, beating into his rushing body.

His knees got increasingly weak as he began to get dizzier and dizzier. His thoughts faded to static, a rough pressure in the boy's rotting lungs forced him to cough dryly until there was nothing coming out of his mouth but blood. Toby’s body collided into a tree as he stumbled through the dying forest. The smell of smoke overtook him, and he felt something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. It devoured him, robbed the fighting boy of his last ounce of strength. His dark, tired eyes gave in to the weight of the world, and he was swallowed whole by the sickness. The last thing he felt was his battered body crashing into the ground beneath him.

[idkyetxoxo]

Eleven | Allure | The Last Kingdom

"I don't know what to say."

<- prev || masterlist || next ->

───☆���☾⋅☆───

As I made my way back to our camp, the familiar faces of Finan, Sihtric, Uhtred, and Jackdaw greeted me in an unexpected gathering. 

My eyes met Sihtric's, and for a fleeting moment, our gazes locked. He held my stare for a couple of seconds before diverting his eyes, feigning sudden interest in the arm rings adorning him. "Why are you here?" I inquired, my curiosity tinged with a subtle undertone of concern as I finally directed my attention to Jackdaw.

"It's Brida," Jackdaw began, his voice carrying a weight that instantly set my nerves on edge. "She sent me."

As his next words pierced the air, a knot tightened in my chest. "Aethelwold is the one who killed Ragnar," he revealed, each syllable heavy with the gravity of the news.

Shock rippled through me, and for a moment, the world seemed to blur. My heart raced, its frantic beats threatening to rupture from within. I glanced at Uhtred, our eyes locking in silent understanding. Aethelwold, that vile scum, was responsible for the deaths of our siblings and now he would pay for it.

"Osferth, fetch the blood," Uhtred's voice cut through the tension, his tone steely with determination. Without hesitation, Osferth handed him the pouch containing my blood.

Concealed within the dense foliage of the forest, I watched with bated breath as Brida, Cnut, Haesten, and Aethelwold led their army into the woodland depths. Anticipation crackled in the air like electricity, mingling with the scent of damp earth and impending conflict.

As the first volley of arrows darkened the sky, the cacophony of battle erupted around me. With each clash of steel, with every war cry that rent the air, I felt the weight of my purpose pressing upon me like a leaden mantle.

In the heat of the fray, our forces teetered on the brink of defeat until salvation arrived in the form of Aethelflaed and her Mercian cavalry. Their timely intervention breathed renewed vigour into our ranks, turning the tide of battle in our favour.

Then, like a tempest unleashed from the shadows, Sigebriht's army descended upon the Danes, striking from the rear with a ferocity that mirrored my own pent-up rage.

My blade cleaved through the sinewy flesh of a Dane, his weapon poised menacingly at my chest. A pat on my back prompted me to whirl around, greeted by the sight of Sihtric, his arms cradling the battered form of Dagfinn. Bruised and broken, he was the embodiment of my wrath made manifest.

"He's all yours," Sihtric declared, his voice a grim acknowledgement of the task that lay before me before he disappeared once more into the fray.

A twisted smile of anticipation curled my lips as I seized Dagfinn by his matted hair, wrenching him down to his knees before me. "One way or another, you will be mine," I hissed through clenched teeth, the promise of retribution echoing in the air like a curse, a curse of his own making, a malignant force born from the depths of his twisted desires.

With a fluid motion, I brandished my dagger, its gleaming edge dancing in the flickering light of the battlefield. Without hesitation, I drove across his crotch, his most tender flesh, slicing off his cock in a swift movement revelling in the anguished cry that tore from his lips. Each scream was a symphony of suffering, a cacophony of agony that fueled the fire burning within me.

Though my every instinct urged me to prolong his torment, the battle around us demanded swifter justice. With a cruel twist, I withdrew the blade, savouring the metallic tang of blood upon its surface.

Forcing his head upward, I locked eyes with him, a silent challenge smouldering in the depths of my gaze. "Fuck you," I spat and then, with a swift stroke, I severed the fragile thread of his existence slicing across his neck, the crimson tide of his lifeblood staining the earth beneath us. 

With a contemptuous kick, I cast aside his lifeless form, the echo of his demise ringing in my ears like a hymn of vindication.

As I smeared his blood across my cheeks, I welcomed the darkness that resided within me. They called me the little devil, and with every trickle of his blood on my skin, I embraced that nickname with a passion fueled by justified rage.

As I cast my eyes back across the battlefield, I caught sight of Aethelwold, and his figure of cowardice atop a horse, desperately attempting to flee the scene. Determination surged within me like a tide, and I spied a lone horse in the distance, beckoning me with the promise of pursuit.

With agile grace, I mounted the steed, pulling sharply on the reins as we thundered after him. There was no sanctuary for him, no escape from the reckoning that awaited, I was going to make sure of it.

The chase pressed on, the pounding of hooves against earth a relentless drumbeat of pursuit. Then, during the frenetic pursuit, Aethelwold's flight faltered as he collided with a low-hanging branch, tumbling unceremoniously from his mount. 

Spotting Uhtred in the distance, I signalled to him, our paths converging as we united in the hunt.

Cornered and desperate, Aethelwold found refuge behind a towering tree, his pleas for mercy echoing hollowly in the air. Yet, in the face of his cowardice, Uhtred's demand hung heavy in the air, a reckoning long overdue.

"Admit you killed Ragnar" Uhtred's voice brooked no dissent, and Aethelwold, trembling, confessed to the deed born of his own fear "I feared he would kill me so I had to kill him". The gravity of his actions hung heavy in the air, the stench of cowardness poisoning the very ground beneath us.

"I'll exile myself," Aethelwold bargained, his voice tainted with desperation, his offer met with a disbelieving scoff.

"You will go far away," Uhtred's voice sliced through the tense air. His words drew my attention, and a silent agreement passed between us as I acknowledged his unspoken directive with a determined nod.

In a swift motion, Uhtred continued, his voice steady as he outlined the terms of Aethelwold's exile. "You will need silver to pay for the voyage," he declared.

As Uhtred flung the pouch containing the blood, Aethelwold's trembling fingers closed around it, clutching it to his chest as if it were his only salvation. The air hung heavy with anticipation.

I met Uhtred's gaze and a silent exchange passed between us. With a reassuring nod from Uhtred, he tossed me his dagger, an invitation to claim the mantle of justice.

Without hesitation, I seized the weapon. Time seemed to stand still as I plunged the blade into Aethelwold's chest, the sac of blood bursting upon impact in a visceral cascade of retribution.

Scarlet stained the forest floor as Aethelwold fell. Uhtred bestowed upon me the honour of avenging Ragnar, of sending him to Valhalla.

With a sense of grim satisfaction, I knew that Ragnar's legacy had been upheld, his memory enshrined in the blood-soaked earth beneath us. 

Collapsing to my knees, a primal scream tore from the depths of my being as I unleashed the full force of my fury upon Aethelwold. The dagger became an extension of my wrath, each stab into his lifeless body a symphony of pain and retribution. I surrendered to the tempest raging within me, the weight of every injustice driving me forward.

With each thrust of the dagger into his body I exorcised the demons that had long haunted me, the weight of every betrayal and injustice propelling me forward into the abyss of vengence.

As the frenzy of my assault upon Aethelwold reached its peak, a sudden, sharp pain pierced through the haze of my rage. With a gasp of realization, I felt the searing agony of my own hands gripping the sharp blade of the dagger, blood trickling down my fingers in crimson rivulets.

It was Uhtred's steady hand that broke the spell pulling me back from the brink of my self-inflicted torment. Gasping for air, I found refuge in his embrace, my ragged breaths a testament to the toll exacted by our quest, calling me back to myself.

Brida's arrival heralded a moment of respite. As sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting ethereal beams upon our weary forms, her words rang true.

"It is a bridge for Ragnar to cross over into Valhalla," she intoned and in that moment, laughter bubbled forth, a release of pent-up emotion as tears danced upon my cheeks.

"We did it," I murmured and Uhtred nodded in silent agreement, we stood together, a trio forged in blood and steel, honouring the memory of the fallen warrior, the brother who had held us together.

──☆⋅☾⋅☆──

Standing at a distance, I watched as Uhtred retrieved his necklace, a talisman of Thor's hammer, from Ragnar's final resting place.

As Uhtred stepped back, I felt compelled to draw nearer, with a soft exhale, I lowered myself to the ground, fingers tracing the rough contours of the stones that marked Ragnar's grave.

"Rest easy, brother, I love you," the words escaped in a whispered prayer, a final offering to a soul now beyond the reach of mortal pain.

Standing once more, I cast a lingering glance over the hallowed ground, a silent vow etched into the fabric of my being. With each step away from the grave, I felt a measure of peace settle over me, a balm to soothe the ache of loss that lingered in my heart.

As Uhtred and I left, the weight of my purpose hung heavy in the air. My mind churned with a frenzy of emotions, each thought a tempest swirling within the confines of my soul.

Lost in reverie, I found myself standing before him. With hesitant resolve, I closed the distance, Sihtric stood before me, his presence both comforting and unnerving in equal measure. How could I even begin to articulate the tangled mess of thoughts and feelings that had taken root in my heart?

"Sihtric," I started, my voice betraying the uncertainty that gnawed at the edges of my resolve. "I don't know what to say." The admission hung heavily in the air, an acknowledgement of my own confusion.

His expression softened, a silent reassurance that he understood, even if I did not.

"I mean," I continued, my words stumbling over themselves in their haste to find clarity, "I appreciate everything you've done for me, truly, I do." The sincerity in my voice was undeniable, tinged with the ache of impending regret.

"But..." I trailed off, my thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. How could I articulate the conflicting emotions that waged war within me? How could I tell him that I was torn between the safety of familiarity and the unknown depths of something more?

A heavy silence settled between us, with unspoken questions and unfinished thoughts and then, without warning, an impulse seized hold of me, guiding my hand to his cheek.

His hand enveloped mine, a strong and reassuring grip. His eyes swept across the fresh wound across my palm from the dagger earlier. As his fingers delicately traced the gash, a shiver ran down my spine, the sensation both painful and strangely comforting.

Our eyes met in silent understanding, I leaned forward, my lips brushing against his in a hesitant, tentative gesture of longing and uncertainty.

The kiss lingered, a fragile bridge between what was and what could be and then, just as quickly as it had begun, it was over, leaving in its wake a lingering sense of confusion and longing. I pulled away, my heart weighed down by the gravity of my indecision.

I knew that the path ahead remained uncertain, fraught with obstacles and unknown dangers but for now, in the quiet intimacy of that shared moment, I found comfort in the knowledge that I was in fact not alone, that whatever lay ahead, Sihtric would be there by my side, if I allowed it.

───☆⋅☾⋅☆───

when he brings you the man you've wanted to torture >>>> also I know her 'confession' was not a confession but patience please this is only chapter 11 let her be confused 🤭

[strawberry-lemonade-kisses]

Tw's - Dragon Obanai, injuries, blood, cuts, stitching him back together, he's an asshole, talking down to someone, belittling.

The territory lines within the Ashra kingdom were nonexistent, although politically there were lines, but the residents were free to come and go. The void territory made for a good weekend trip for most. The void dragons were very reserved. They stuck to cave systems, leaving most of the land untouched, burrowing deep and creating dens. The scenery was beautiful, hills of grass and flowers that eventually changed to a beach. The humans that lived in the territory had built homes on the coast, so close to the Mist dragon’s territory but safer than the depths of the ocean where most of the water type dragons existed. Traveling between the small territory of the poison dragons to the void dragons took less than an hour from coast to coast and was often your vacation away from things. Summer was always a slower time for you. Less poison related accidents happen when no one is traveling to the hotter territories. As a doctor who specializes in poisoning, you were in demand, but you still needed your vacations. There were plenty who could handle things while you took a small break. The house you rented was a small one bedroom with a small kitchen and bathroom. The back porch was really what you wanted; the view of the sea was to die for. The sea dragons that took an opportunity to spend time in the sun and made the beaches their home, some taking human form and finding places among the beaches to sunbathe and enjoy the weather.

Today was different, though. The clouds were dark, threatening as you walked along the beach, looking for shells and other collectibles to gift the children that came to your office. There was a certain anxiety that surrounded poisons and toxins, the people that came in feared their own bodies, unsure how to combat their powers or cure an accidental poisoning. There were plenty of young poison dragons who finally develop their power, releasing it with each emotion and causing chaos. Most young poison dragons were homeschooled until their teenage years, when their powers were more stable, and they had more control. The gifts eased their minds while you ran the uncomfortable tests. Sea Glass, coral, scallops, whelk, jingle shells; your bag was filling as the clouds darkened.

          As the first droplets hit your hands, you finally look up from the sand, drawstring bag heavy in your hands. The clouds were a nasty grey color, like a storm that would sweep you into the Mist king’s territory, lost to the anger of the harsh sea. You needed to get home, and quickly. Home didn’t even look accessible from where you stood. The increase in rainfall and the blip in the distance that was your vacation home meant you needed to find cover this second. Sand stretched for miles, no cover and no cliff edges to hide under, so you turned towards the treeline further inland. Sprinting was your only option as you threw the bag over your shoulder, making way for the trees and some cover while you waited it out. The vacation home you stayed in was in a small alcove of other houses, not a lot of tree cover, so you would have to hunker down, try to find something that kept you dry. You cursed yourself for being so reckless. This was a vacation and maybe you really did need the mental break, but staying dry to avoid illness and not get caught in the tide of an angry storm was not how you imagined that break. The rain was getting harsher by the second pelting your skin as you walked through the forest, looking for some type of cover. You could still see the beaches from where you were, so you walked close to the tree line, hoping a cluster of trees could cover you enough to keep you somewhat dry. As you stepped through twigs and leaves, you noticed a cluster of trees, close together and shading an area. You almost sprinted to the cover until you got closer and noticed it was shading a cave of sorts. Dug into the side of a hill was a deep den, the darkness didn’t help you with seeing anything but the silence of the cave and lack of any disturbed vegetation told you it might be abandoned. You took the chance with it, stepping carefully into the large cavern. The flooring was hardened, worn with years of use and movement. It was warmer than the outside as you stepped further in, hoping it will help you dry and stay warm until you could hear the rain slow or even stop. You dropped the heavy bag of collectibles on the floor. Sitting next to it, you pulled your knees in close, hoping to gain some warmth. Though manipulation and power over the elements and nature has been gifted to the dragons over the years, after many inter-racial families grew, some humans develop small gifts, not in the scale of dragons but enough to get by. The slight manipulation of water you were gifted with couldn’t Stop the rain from hitting you or slow the fall of the drops, but it helped with lessening the dampness of your body, removing the water from your person and pooling it a few inches away from you into a decent sized puddle. Though you were relatively dry the dark cave and wind from the rain had you shivering, even as you huddled in on yourself.

“I knew I smelled a witch” the bass of the voice resonated your skull, instilling fear in every inch of you. Though you saw no one, you would be an idiot to believe it wasn’t real. The clicking and rustling of talons and scales across the ground had you scooching towards the cave’s entrance, but not desperate enough to run. “Why have you come? Trouble in the village? Has the poison queen grown restless?” the flare of purple stripes had you reaching for your bag. Praying that if this was your end, you would be remembered as someone who tried their best to help others. There was a quick dart of purple, thrown against the wall you sat against, a torch that you couldn’t see through the dark of the home you had invaded lit. Coming into view were the heterochromatic eyes of the legendary Void king. There was something about the way he controlled void flames that had even the most powerful of any race cowering. The flames that burned purple were hotter than any fire recorded. Combined with the addition of void magic that vacuumed anything and everything up, destroying it until it was as if it never existed. The lithe body of the towering dragon stood far from you, like he had been resting in a corner of the deep cavern. The vents that burned purple on the sides of his head flared as he blew another burst of fire Igniting more torches in the area.

“Speak before I decide to no longer hear you.” The void king’s accent had Draconish Sounding like a snake coming from him, his forked tongue greeting you as he spoke, the point of his teeth flashing with each word.

“my apologies, your majesty. I sought refuge from the rain. I did not know this was your home. I was collecting shells from the beach” you hesitantly raised the bag that rattled with shells. He huffed a breath. Smoke releasing from the vents on his head as he turned around, trudging further into the cavern.

“Come” it was a command, no room for disobedience or argument. His heavy steps went much farther as you rushed behind him, trying to keep up as he wound through the tunnels of the cave. Void dragons were known for their lack of sight. Some would think it a disadvantage, but their other senses made up for it. Their sense of smell could not be rivaled, and it made them devastatingly powerful.

Two turns down had you wandering into a large opening. Lanterns were lit around the room, a waterfall fell into a small pool. In the middle of the opening was a pit filled with furs and blankets. It looked well lived in. Next to the water was a pot big enough to feed a large family. It sat over a large fire, steadily bubbling. The dragon trudged towards the pot, sniffing before he let out a purr of contentment, sitting himself down. You stood towards the entrance of the opening, looking at all the small trinkets shoved into divots in the rock. Stuffed animals, clothing, jewels. It wasn’t what you expected one of the strongest beings on the planet to have in his home. You watched as he moved around quietly. The only sound was his tail dragging behind him. His horns sat low on his head, following the slope of his skull. He was ethereal up close. The iridescent reflection of his scales shone off the water. A glass pane installed surrounding where the water came in provided an abundance of natural light. You were pulled out of your gazing with the sound of movement. The king had taken the pot handle into his mouth, lifting it and using a claw to tilt its contents into the pool. As the liquid gushed out, you were overwhelmed with the scent of herbs. Aloe, Rosemary, pointed Mint, and Star Anise. It was an interesting mixture, but one you would recognize anywhere. The floral scents solidified your thought as you watched him place the pot back, sitting back as the water mixed with the tincture. You cautiously stepped forward, hoping to get a closer look to confirm your suspicions before you opened your mouth and looked like a fool in front of the Void king.

“Why are you sneaking” He didn’t move from his spot, not even a rustle of the fins on his tail.

“My King,” He huffed at the title as you continued approaching him.

“I would know that concoction anywhere, it is to treat injury. Please allow me to help you with whatever it is you need healed. I am one of Queen Shinobu’s top doctors and poison experts.” He allowed you to continue to approach, until you were an arm’s length away did he growl, halting your steps.

“The queen may allow her subjects to be cozy with her, but I will not. You may rest here until the storm clears. Besides that, you are not permitted to touch me” He let out a small growl of warning before he slithered into the water, disappearing beneath its depths. The water splashed at your feet and you stepped back to avoid more of it. The king was known for his temperament. He was hard-working and strong, but it came at a cost. Like many void dragons, he didn’t like people, choosing to isolate himself until he was needed. It was rare he visited the poison territory though they were neighbors, but even then, Queen Shinobu was the only one he would address. You couldn’t help but worry. void dragons were the strongest of them all. Their bodies were made to handle the void without any negative repercussions. They could fly through it and maintain all of their scales and limbs. The kings injury could be dangerous for the territory, especially in the transition period for the Ashra kingdom as it merges with the Ravenhill kingdom. You chose to inspect the surrounding areas a little closer. There was an array of herbs surrounding the pot, seaweed used as a common bandage, sniper gel made to numb areas that require stitching or shots or even a piece carved out. A greyish paste that was no doubt an antibiotic paste. You noticed a few more pastes, burn creams, infection stoppers, heavier numbing creams. An injury on this level couldn’t be anything good, especially not on a king. You moved on, looking at a collection of small trinkets, a pair of green socks, different colored stones and gems, a small music box with an inscription on top ‘May the elders bless you with their fire and the people protect you with their love’ it was an intimate inscription, left by someone close to the king, a parent? A sibling? A lover? He was an enigma as a person and the more you looked around, the more curiosity clawed at your brain. You had so many questions and very little answers. The sound of water splashing again had you pausing, but refusing to turn around and admit you may have been caught nosing through a king’s personal effects.

“Is it common for you humans to stick your noses where they don’t belong?” You dropped your head in shame, embarrassed at being caught and called out by a king. He could easily have your head for it and no one could stop him.

“My apologies your majesty, I was curious and let that cloud my judgement. Please allow me to make up for it”

“You said you were a doctor. Are you educated on wounds as most people are?” you stood staring at the collection of trinkets, daring not to move a muscle as the king addressed you. Though you were considered higher rank within the court of the Poison queen, this wasn’t her territory. Rules were different here, and you weren’t a big enough pawn to start a war over.

“Yes your majesty. I know very well how to treat wounds and poisons. Most go hand in hand” there was a shuffling of furniture, it sounded like a table being dragged around.

“Come, you will treat my wounds and then you will stay out of my things” His tone was sharp, not leaving room for argument. You turned around, expecting to come face to face with the eternal grin of the Void king, instead you were met with a much smaller version of him. He sat at the table that previously held the herbs for his bath. There was another chair, older and dusty next to him. Sharp eyes watched you move towards the chair. There was a small spread of bandaging, a few leftover herbs, and a bowl of water. He wore light clothing, a sleeveless black tunic, and long back pants. You tried not to look at him for long, so he wouldn’t feel offended and looked at the supplies you were to work with. As you sat, he lifted his hands towards you, revealing a myriad of wounds. There were deep gashes in his palms, his knuckles looked like he had repeatedly hit them against concrete, not stopping even as he bled. His fingers were blistered and bruised. The wounds went up his arm. There was no doubt he had been through something and the way his hands shook told you it was enough to have him in pain, even as he tried to hide it. You didn’t stare long, the quick soak had stopped whatever bleeding had happened, but as you inspected his palms, it was only a matter of time.

“do you have numbing?” he looked around tfhe table, sure he had put out the jar of cream but he wasn’t too sure now.

“there should be sniper gel” You remembered seeing it near the pot. As you inspected the area once more you spotted a few jars on the floor. You retrieved them quickly before returning to the king, opening the sniper jel and using a cloth to dab it along the lines of the cuts on his palms. The king didn’t move as you worked, holding up each hand carefully for you, even lifting them higher as you squinted in focus.

“I worry about the bones in your hands. Both hands are swollen and I feel like with the extent of injury, it goes down to the bone. How far away is your nearest hospital?” He took seconds to think.

“5 minute flight. I can have doctors brought here. I am a king.” You nodded as you inspected your sutures.

“I understand, but can they bring x-rays? You will need to bring in help, your majesty. You cannot be using your hands after this, lest you rip the stitches.” He grumbled, speaking under his breath as he let out a sigh. As you flipped his hands over to begin working on the smaller cuts, you paused, letting his hands rest on a towel you had gotten. You cleaned up the needle and bloodied clothes, disposing of them in an empty bowl.

“That will be arranged. Just clean it up so I may move on” You didn’t respond, just continued to slather his hands in ointments and remove any rocks and stone lodged within his skin. As you finished up the backside of his hands in silence, you only stopped to observe the skin. The bruising was just beginning. There was no doubt they would be terrifying to look at tomorrow. How could someone do something to their hands? Receive such trauma to them and yet sit so casually? He didn’t hiss in pain or snap at you. He just sat there, annoyed at your presence but not bothered by the fact his hands were in such a state. You talked him through care as you wrapped up his hands. He looked like he could visit the flame dragon territory and be warm by the time you had finished. The gauze and seaweed weren’t to keep his stitches in place but to prevent him from moving his hands until x-rays could be done.

“I do not recommend you take form as a dragon. The pressure you would be putting on your hands would make things a lot worse. If anything is broken, you will be prolonging your healing time. The extent of these injuries isn’t severe, but for someone as important as you, I suggest further caution in the future.” He rolled his eyes at your words, a sneer sitting on his lips as you rolled your back, tired of his attitude to your help.

“I will not be chastised by a human who does not know the force that caused these injuries. You live in a world created by us and still think you rule it. If you must know, insolent one. There was a cave-in near the shoreline. The void can only do so much for our people. The construction of burrows has weakened along the earth. So before you start running your mouth, remember your place, because without me and these hands you would be dealing with dozens of dead, dragon and humans.” You sat staring at him, watching the gills on his neck exasperate purple steam before he stood, stiffly waving you off as he marched to the pit of blankets. Even with the mitts of gauze over his hands, he managed to burrow within the blankets just fine, leaving you to clean up the mess of his injury in guilty silence.

You sat near the mouth of the king’s burrow, watching the rain slow down. Your thoughts had been stuck on the words of the king. Looking past the insults and the way he saw you as something lesser, you understood where he came from. Without outright saying it, you had seen something in him that not many people may get the chance to see. You got to experience the dreaded void king in his own home. He was thoughtful enough to invite you into the warmth of his burrow. He didn’t eat you for looking through his stuff. The king was kind in his own way, though it was hidden behind a sharp tongue and sharper talons. He was beautiful in a way, his black hair that hid his black horns, just an extension of his hair at this point. The scars on his face that mimicked the stretched grin of his dragon form. The gills on his neck that replaced the vents. He was an entity you had never seen before and yet didn’t want to look away from. You hoped he would listen, accept the help. You hoped the treaty would help him and his people with their burrow problem. Maybe the structures of the Ravenhill kingdom would appeal to them and they could start anew. But you could not return to this king. He was not yours to treat, and he was not someone you could stay with for too long. No matter how soft he got, you would never address the void king again.

[lvoryingrid]

Healing Flames Chapter 10

Dabi x fem!Reader

Synopsis: In a vulnerable moment, (Y/n), burdened by blame for Touya's tragedy, shares the tragic fate of her friend. Dabi's stoic response conceals his true identity. As Dabi contemplates leaving, (Y/n) implores him, leaving the question unanswered.

"So... Did you find him?" In the profound silence atop Sekoto Peak, Dabi's question sliced through the quietude like a sharp blade, his voice a low murmur resonating with the unspoken tension between them. (Y/n), perched on the precipice of the cliff, gazed out at the city below, her eyes reflecting the haunting ghosts of a past she could not escape.

With a slow, deliberate motion, she shook her head, a somber acknowledgment of the futility that defined her search. "No," she breathed, her voice carrying the weight of unresolved emotions that seemed to cling to the very fabric of the darkened landscape around them. The wind, a gentle yet haunting companion, whispered through the scorched remnants of the once-lush forest.

"The fire," she continued, her words unveiling the painful tapestry of her memories, "it was over 2000 degrees. There weren't even any remains of him." The pain etched across her face deepened, and her eyes, pools of sorrow, mirrored the searing intensity of the flames that had devoured everything in their path. The echoes of that inferno lingered in the air, a palpable presence that made the present moment feel like a mere respite in the relentless march of time.

As (Y/n) spoke, Touya's tragic fate unfurled before her once again. The haunting images danced vividly in the recesses of her memory, each detail etched with excruciating clarity. A spectral shiver ran down her spine, an involuntary response to the macabre scenes playing out in the theater of her mind.

Her words carried the weight of unbearable recollection as she painted a harrowing picture of her best friend's demise. "Carbonized remains," she uttered, the syllables tinged with the bitterness of reality, "turned into ashes and were scattered by the relentless draft from the searing heat." The air seemed to still as the gravity of those words hung heavily, her voice trembling with the profound sorrow of reliving that tragic moment.

A dense, oppressive silence hung in the air, wrapping around them like an invisible shroud. The only audible sounds were the faint rustle of leaves, disturbed by a mournful breeze that seemed to carry the weight of the unspeakable truth. The world around (Y/n) and Dabi seemed to hush in somber reverence.

In that moment of heavy hesitation, (Y/n)'s internal struggle mirrored the external stillness. The truth, too burdensome to utter freely, pressed upon her like an anchor dragging her into the depths of despair. Her eyes, reflective pools of sorrow, hesitated to meet Dabi's gaze.

"They searched," she finally spoke, her voice barely above a breath, the words carrying a weight that seemed to echo in the desolate landscape around them. Her gaze remained fixed on the scorched earth beneath, a silent witness to the tragedy she recounted. "Everywhere," she continued, the word hanging in the air like an unspoken lament, "but only found me, laying next to a pool of my own blood."

As the city hummed with activity, Dabi's stoic demeanor revealed little of the emotions within. The weight of (Y/n)'s revelation lingered, an unspoken connection forged by shared tragedy. In the night's contemplative silence, the city lights shimmered like distant stars. Dabi's gaze, locked on the urban landscape, hinted at untold stories.

(Y/n), battling the well of emotions within, struggled to hold back tears as the weight of the past bore down on her. Standing on that hill, the moonlight casting a somber glow, she couldn't suppress the words any longer. "It's my fault," she exclaimed, the words escaping with a mixture of guilt and sorrow. The city below seemed to echo her sentiment, the distant lights flickering like distant memories.

Her voice, fragile and quivering, recounted the painful truth. "I was in a coma when they found me. When I woke up, his father was the first face I saw."

In the cold, sterile embrace of the hospital room, (Y/n) stirred from the depths of a coma, emerging into a harsh reality that unfolded with painful clarity. The air in the room carried an unspoken tragedy, and the tapestry of emotions on Enji Todoroki's face revealed a tumultuous blend of rage and mourning

As (Y/n) weakly voiced the haunting question, "Where is Touya?" the weight of the unknown pressed down on her, the atmosphere charged with anticipation. Enji, his anger simmering beneath the surface, lashed out in frustration. Each word cut through the air like a sharp blade, condemning her perceived neglect. "How could you let him train in secret? What kind of friend are you? You knew about his burns!"

Accusations hung heavy in the air, and Enji's frustration boiled over, culminating in a damning verdict. "Now he's dead, and it's your fault!" The words lingered, a heavy burden on (Y/n)'s shoulders, as Enji abruptly left the room, leaving her to grapple with the chilling silence.

Alone in the frigid hospital bed, (Y/n) took in her surroundings, and the small burns on her arms served as painful reminders of the fiery cataclysm that had consumed her friend and Sekoto Peak. The scars on her body mirrored the scars etched onto her soul.

As the realization struck like a tidal wave, a primal scream tore through (Y/n). Crying in anguish, she felt the weight of guilt and sorrow settle upon her, realizing that Touya was gone, and in the eyes of his father, she bore the blame. The hospital room transformed into a chamber of echoes, resonating with the profound loss of a friendship engulfed in the flames of tragedy.

Dabi stood in silence, a tempest of conflicting emotions swirling within him. Every fiber of his being yearned to tell her the truth, to release her of the undeserved guilt that hung heavy in the air. But the weight of secrets and the dangers lurking in the shadows restrained his desperate urge. He watched as (Y/n)'s shoulders trembled with the burden of grief and self-blame. How he wished to reveal himself, to let her know that he was still here, alive against all odds. She had always been the one who stood by him, a beacon of unwavering support.

Yet, the world he belonged to, the life he led as Dabi, the secrets that enveloped him like a suffocating cloak, held him back. He couldn't let her be entangled in the web of darkness that surrounded him. Protecting her from the truth became his silent obligation, even as it tore at his conscience.

Enji's unjust accusations echoed in Dabi's mind, igniting a quiet rage. How dare his father blame (Y/n) for what happened to him? The irony of the situation, the bitter truth that he was standing right there, hidden behind the facade of Dabi, fueled his internal turmoil.

Leaning against the railing, tried to adopt a nonchalant demeanor. "Doesn't sound like it's your fault," he remarked, his voice carrying a hint of detachment. The city lights below flickered, mirroring the conflicted emotions in his eyes. She turned towards him, her gaze seeking solace. "He was too stubborn to admit he really was a failure," he continued, the words carefully chosen to veil the pain that lurked beneath the surface. A bitter irony, considering the speaker concealed a truth he longed to reveal.

A moment of silence hung in the air as (Y/n) absorbed his words. The night wind whispered through the forest, carrying echoes of the past. "But it's not that simple, is it?" she responded, her voice a fragile reflection of the turmoil within.

Dabi's eyes flickered with a mixture of regret and determination. "Nothing ever is," he replied, a subtle acknowledgment of the complexities that threaded through their lives. The unspoken truth hovered, tantalizingly close yet carefully guarded.

The comfortable silence enveloping them was shattered by his voice, breaking through the tranquility. "I'm leaving, you should too" he announced, a palpable weight in his words. The city lights below seemed to flicker in response, casting fleeting shadows on the tension that hung in the air.

"Wait," she implored, her voice carrying a fragile urgency that hung in the cool night air. "Why didn't you... kill me? You're a villain who doesn't hesitate to take lives."

Dabi, the ethereal glow of his turquoise eyes meeting hers, lingered in a pause pregnant with unspoken truths and concealed emotions. A gentle breeze, carrying the scent of pine and the weight of their shared stories, whispered through the trees on Sekoto Peak—a reminder of the transient nature of their encounter.

In that suspended moment, shadows clung to his silhouette as he turned away, seamlessly blending into the darkness. The city below, aglow with its nocturnal symphony, remained oblivious to the intricate threads of fate woven on the precipice of the forest.

As Dabi vanished into the obscurity, (Y/n) stood alone, surrounded by the stillness of the night. The unanswered question echoed, resonating in the mountain air. The city lights stretched out beneath her like a mosaic of lives, each carrying on, unaware of the enigmatic encounter that unfolded atop the peak, where two disparate destinies momentarily converged.

Masterlist

[lieslab]

The depths between: Chapter six

Trigger warning: Animal death and blood

Intro

Chapter five

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

You glanced around the small island you were on as Felix talked about the world of sirens. Most of it seemed like basic knowledge, but some of it frightened you. Apparently, you had encountered a dark siren once and you didn’t want to do it again. 

You always knew the ocean could be a dangerous place, but to know that there was a human-like creature, multiple human-like creatures, swimming beneath the surface and causing death and destruction; it terrified you. You felt a little better knowing that there were multiple light sirens helping people without their knowledge, but it was still frightening. 

“So let me get this straight. You rescued me, brought me here while I was asleep, and we’ve been here ever since?” 

“Yep.” 

“And we’re how many miles from the nearest shore?” 

“A couple hundred.” 

“And the nearest boat is?” 

“I have no idea.” 

“Cool.” 

“Please don’t freak out.” 

“Oh yeah, don’t freak out. I’m on an island all alone and I’m not supposed to freak out!” You threw your hands up in the air. It was starting to truly settle in now. 

“You’re not alone, you have me!” Felix beamed.

“You’re not a fellow human! You’re half a fish!” Hurt flashed across his face. “I’m so sorry,” you apologized, “but please think about where I’m coming from. I just learned that sirens exist and I’m slightly freaking the fuck out!” 

“I wouldn’t say slightly,” he mumbled beneath his breath. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing! Nothing! Just take a deep breath and try to calm down and we’ll figure this out together.” 

“I don’t even have food!” You whined. 

“Now that’s the spirit! That’s something I can help with!” He shot you a grin and dragged himself back towards the foamy white waves. 

You watched with a raised eyebrow as he rushed over and scrambled back towards the water. Within seconds, he began to swim once he was inside. Before you knew what was happening, he disappeared between the waves. 

“Felix?” You called out worriedly as you walked back to the water. The waves lapped at your bare feet. You weren’t sure what happened to your shoes. When you woke up, they weren’t on your feet. You were pretty sure you probably kicked them off in the water at some point. 

There wasn’t a response. The waves kept rolling, but he wasn’t anywhere in sight. “Felix!” You called out again. In a panic, you walked further into the water. It reached your mid-calf when you suddenly felt like crying. 

You didn’t like being alone here. Who knew what laid behind you hidden in that darkened forest. Sure, Felix wasn’t human, but he comforted you a little. He was strange, but it was better than being entirely alone. At least, you could voice your thoughts to someone. 

“Felix!” You cried out louder, hoping he’d somehow hear you beneath the water. You opened your mouth to call out again and suddenly- 

Thwack! 

You screamed as something slammed into your face. You stumbled backwards and Felix’s blonde hair poked out of the water. Wet flopping noises came from behind you as you jerked the back of your hands over your face. 

“What the fuck was that?” 

“You could have started off with a thank you! That’s your breakfast!” 

You jerked around and your eyes widened at the sight of the silvery fish wiggling around in the sand. Back and forth its body shifted. Gills fluttered trying to find water, so it could breathe. 

You suddenly felt sick watching the poor creature try and flop back towards the waves. “I can’t eat that,” you managed to get out. 

“Why not?” 

“First of all, it’s raw. Second of all, it’s still alive and I’m not killing it.” 

“It’ll be fine, it’s like sushi!” 

“Did you hear the part where I said I’m not killing it?” 

“Your survival instincts really suck, you know that? Thank god I’m here because you’d die within a few days.” Felix swam closer towards the shore. He pushed his arm towards the fish and gently grasped onto it. 

“This is so easy for sirens. We’ve all gotta eat somehow and there’s plenty more where this came from.” He reached out and closed his hand over the flopping fish. “First we clean it off because sand doesn’t taste good.” 

You watched curiously as he grabbed the fish and dunked it repeatedly in the water. The fish flopped, trying to get away, but it wasn’t any use. Felix’s longer nails digging into its sides acted like anchors. 

 “And then we just-” 

Your ears began to ring as his sharp teeth made an appearance. There were no words to describe how queasy and disgusting you felt as he chomped down on its head. The last thing you remembered was watching blood coat Felix’s chin as the fish’s tail flapped rapidly before your world went dark. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Next part: Chapter seven

Taglist: @ilovetocas1 @vvislici0us @fr34k4c1dr41n @hamburgers101 @juskz @x-0ophelia0-x @viviworkshere @velvetmoonlght @jeonginsleftcheek

Masterlist

Requests, taglist, and inbox rules

[happybird16]

•Chapter Five•

Naga!Levi Ackerman/Fem!Reader

Summary: Growing up, the forest's edge always darkened the far corner of your small village. The giant, twisted branches overhead rendered the forest floor a terrifying, pitch black. You shouldn't be here. There's creatures here, dangerous ones.

Overall warnings: Past references to child abuse, blood, scars, gore, mystery, eventual sex, inhuman genitalia (Levi is a snake man), horror vibes.

Chapter warnings: Horror vibes, myster, blood, gore, references to past child abuse.

Chapter length: 6.2k

Ao3 Link

The most special of shoutouts to my beloved friend and beta @theferricfox!!!! Also, credit to @the-milk-anon for the snake banner!!

Note: Very excited to see your reactions to this!!!

Previous chapter | Next chapter

It's morning, you know that for a fact, but the forest is nearly pitch black. In the few short feet between the mountainside and the trees, the soft morning light had sparkled brightly off the snow. It had been nearly blinding.

But now nothing but darkness surrounds you. Luckily, the blizzard has stopped, at least for a bit judging by the forbidding clouds looming in the distance. However, the cold is unforgiving, and the biting wind cuts through your body with a sharp chill. Every breath feels like icy needles in your lungs. The leather of your gloves creaks in protest every time you wring your shivering hands for warmth.

You think it might be too cold to snow.

As you press forward against the powerful intermittent breeze, it threatens to knock you off balance with its force. Every step becomes a slow and arduous battle against the wind. Despite the unsettling conditions, you find yourself oddly grateful for the giant's repetitive visits. Its lumbering footsteps have inadvertently created a path through the snow, a winding trail that bears the imprint of its clumsy movements.

In your earlier years, prior to the birth of your brother, you had been taught how to hunt. Your father had always wanted a son, he'd told you as much repeatedly, and he'd put that pressure onto you. Under his relentless and often cruel gaze, you’d spent a significant portion of your youth in the safer woods on the opposite side of town, learning the skills of tracking, killing, and skinning. Nothing you did was ever good enough for him, as he constantly pushed you to meet his high expectations.

However, everything changed when your brother Gerard was born. Suddenly, your father's attention shifted entirely to him, and you were left to find your place and learn the tasks assigned to women alongside your mother. This abrupt abandonment brought both a sense of relief and a deep-seated ache within you.

Those memories are distant now. Long gone, fuzzy and buried somewhere in the depths of your mind. Trudging determinedly through the knee high snow, you struggle to recall even the littlest scene.

“I’m too weak,” you mumble morosely to yourself, tracing the tidy line of stitches along your sleeve. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you come to a realization. You simply can’t bring yourself to do it. The Naga may be a bit rough around the edges and more than a little bit curt, but he's kind. In his own way, he's kind. As terrible a person as you are, you can't hurt someone like that, not even for your own gain.

You don't know what you're going to do. Uncertainty hangs over your future. Without those scales, going back home is impossible. As long as the storm rages on, everything remains up in the air. In the midst of this uncertainty, you have made a decision to focus on the present moment and what you can do right now.

The loaf of bread you had brought won't last much longer, no matter how much you ration it, and it certainly won't work for your companion. You need something else. He's a predator, you should've realized that in the first place. His teeth and claws are clear enough evidence towards his diet. You need protein. You need meat.

In the low light, you strain your eyes to spot any signs of small creatures scuttling about, searching for loose patches of fur or even a trail of little footprints. A rabbit would be a welcome find, even if just for a short while. You find yourself hoping that Levi, the Naga, was telling the truth when he mentioned not eating much in the winter. While his human half may be roughly human-sized, albeit on the smaller side, his overall size is immense. Lithe and brimming with muscle, you can only imagine the amount of food he requires.

During your journey here, countless chipmunks and rabbits had been darting about in the underbrush. There had even been a handful of birds, mostly crows and ravens, staring down at you from the branches overhead. But now, there's nothing. The entire forest seems to have come to a standstill under the grip of the bitter cold.

Every step forward resounds as a loud crunch, your foot breaking through a thick layer of ice atop the snow. Surrounded by towering trees, you can’t help but feel small and isolated. It’s clear you can’t remain out here for long. The biting cold is already seeping through your thick coat, penetrating your skin. Hopefully, your scaly companion is still peacefully dozing when you return.

You yearn desperately for a bow or even your knife -wherever that disappeared to, you haven't seen it since Levi had threatened you with it. You vaguely recall how to set up traps, but that requires time and patience—luxuries you can’t afford. The longer you stay exposed out here, the more treacherous it becomes.

This is stupid, you know that, but what else is there to do. Levi.. Levi only seems to be getting weaker by the day. He's getting slower and slower, spending more and more time curled up in the corner asleep. It's too cold and only getting colder by the day. You don't know how long this storm is going to last but maybe.. maybe helping him will buy you more time. You can only hope.

Suddenly, a forceful gust of wind confronts you head-on, almost knocking you off balance. As you struggle to readjust your hood and cover your ears, something catches your attention. There, in the snow, is a trail of tiny footprints. They wander aimlessly before vanishing beneath the dense, leafless tangle of a thorn bush.

As you approach, the sound of your footsteps crunching against the snow, a sudden commotion breaks out nearby. Startled, a large, plump bunny with pristine white fur darts away with astonishing speed, vanishing into the shelter of a dense thicket. You identify it as a cranberry bush, its dark green leaves contrasting against the vibrant red berries still adorning its branches. A mischievous grin spreads across your face as you realize that must be the bunny's chosen food source. It's a perfect opportunity.

Knowing that time is of the essence, you decide to set up a trap, hopeful that you can return later to check on it. Kneeling onto the cold snow, you swiftly assemble a small snare, ensuring it is discreet and strategically placed.

While you concentrate on your task, a loud crash resonates from a distance behind you. The noise echoes through the wintry landscape, accompanied by the distinct sound of branches snapping and snow crunching under pressure.

And then, just as suddenly, it happens again—an even louder cacophony that interrupts the serene surroundings and captures your attention.

As your shoulders tense up, a sense of unease washes over you, causing a prickling sensation to crawl along the back of your neck. Desperately hoping it's just the wind playing tricks on your senses, you can't shake the nagging feeling that something is amiss. Deep within the recesses of your mind, an instinctual alarm blares, urging you with every fiber of your being to resist the urge to turn around.

In the distance, a strange and dissonant sound reverberates, a peculiar blend between a whisper and a low growl. Above the howling wind, it carries a haunting quality, almost as if it's calling your name. The sensation of horror intensifies, sending shivers down your spine and causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

With a mixture of dread and curiosity, against your better judgment, you finally gather the courage to look behind you. The sight that greets you is enough to freeze your blood. A row of yellowed teeth, large and uneven, looms before you, jutting out from a hidden presence that sends a jolt of terror through your entire being.

The entity before you is massive, towering on all fours at a height more than triple your own. It looms menacingly, contorted and deformed into a grotesque parody of a bear. Its appearance is a nightmarish amalgamation, with fur interrupted by patches of rough scales, and the gaps between them exuding a sickening black ooze that bubbles and festers.

A piercing scream tears from your throat as pure terror propels you forward, scrambling on your hands and knees. Panic consumes your every thought as you flee, driven by an instinct to escape at all costs. Snow flies in a flurry behind you as you sprint frantically through the forest, the thundering sounds of your own frantic footsteps drowned out by the horrifying growls that echo through the air. The creature pursues you relentlessly, its presence casting a twisted, elongated shadow that seems to warp and twist even in the darkness of the surrounding forest.

In a desperate attempt to save yourself, you propel your body forward, but before you can get far, the creature's hand clamps around your waist, its razor-sharp claws piercing your skin. Your voice cracks as you scream out, calling for Levi, hoping against hope for rescue.

The creature growls with a low, rumbling sound, a mockery of your terror. Lifting you effortlessly, it brings you to eye level, its distorted features contorting into a twisted smile. Its head is adorned with an unsettling abundance of eyes, reminiscent of an insect's multifaceted gaze. A warbling sound escapes its distorted mouth, and as its jaws open wide, row upon row of sharp teeth are revealed. It mimics your voice in a chilling echo, taunting you with the word, "Weeaak."

How long had it been following you?

The realization of the creature's prolonged pursuit sends a wave of horror coursing through your veins. The intensity of your fear fuels a surge of adrenaline, propelling you to lash out in a desperate attempt to defend yourself. With a guttural scream, your fingers claw into the uneven hide of its finger, digging in with all your might. In a moment of desperation, you manage to deliver a rough kick that grazes its snout, eliciting a snort of annoyance as it violently shakes its head, flinging you aside like a ragdoll.

The impact with the ground is jarring, leaving you dazed and disoriented. Half-buried in a large snow bank, you struggle to regain your bearings. With great effort, you manage to crawl a few feet forward, but your respite is short-lived as the creature's claws close around your left leg with a bone-chilling grip. A searing pain courses through your body as a sickening crack resonates from your foot, followed by the agonizing sensation of dagger-like talons, each one larger than your head, slicing mercilessly into your thigh. The sheer intensity of the pain is so overwhelming that the scream that escapes your throat is deafening, leaving you hoarse and breathless.

As darkness encroaches and your vision fades into a spotty abyss, a sense of suffocation washes over you, making it difficult to draw in a breath. The grip of the creature's strange, scaly and furry hand constricts around you with an unimaginable strength, causing your chest to strain and creak under its relentless pressure. Desperation sets in as your hands scramble and push against its enormous fingers, but your feeble attempts to fight back prove futile. Weakly, you manage to utter a profanity-laden plea through wheezing breaths, desperately denying the horrifying reality unfolding before you. “F-fuck,” you wheeze, “N-no. No!”

The creature's massive maw opens wide, unleashing a gust of warm, putrid breath saturated with the stench of decaying flesh. The revolting odor nearly overwhelms your senses, threatening to make you gag. With tears streaming down your face, you tightly squeeze your eyes shut, allowing sobs of despair to escape your trembling lips. In the depths of your heart, you know that this is the end. This is how you meet your demise.

In the midst of your despair and self-blame, the piercing cry of the creature breaks through the air. Its agonizing yowl reverberates in your ears, causing the world to spin and your senses to falter. With a jolt, the creature hurls you aside once more, and you find yourself landing face down in the cold, unforgiving snow bank.

Disoriented and shaken, you struggle to lift yourself up, your thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and fear. The abrupt turn of events leaves you wondering what could have caused the creature’s sudden distress. As the pain courses through your body, the burning sensation intensifies, leaving you writhing in agony. The echoes of the creature’s torment still reverberate in your ears, and amidst the chaos, you notice the sound of its whimpering retreat. Confusion fills your mind as you try to make sense of the sudden turn of events. Why did the creature leave? What just happened?

Struggling to regain your composure, you lift yourself up from the snow, wincing at the sharp pains that shoot through your limbs.

Fingers grip your shoulders from behind and you jolt, letting out a hoarse cry. It's back it's back it's back. The fingers dig in, softly urging you onto your back. Levi fills your vision. His mouth is moving, but you can't hear.

“Levi,” you breath, shoulders easing. Sinking heavily into the snow, your teeth begin to chatter. With your hazy vision, you manage to make out the shape his lips are forming. Your name, he's calling your name.

He's never done that before.

“You- you saved me,” you whimper, eyes fluttering heavily. Shivering, the cold has settled through your clothes, sticking wetly to your skin. “Levi I-”

“-could hear you screaming from the den. What the fuck are you doing out here?” Levi pauses, nose flaring and tongue flicking out. Suddenly sharp, his eyes drag along your half-buried form, “Is that blood I smell? Are you injured?”

“Rabbit,” you try to speak, mouth heavy. You point uselessly in what you think is the direction of your snare. “Wanted to get you food.”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re a fucking idiot,” he snarks dryly. “Of course you managed to run into a Shifter.”

Shifter? Before you can ask what he means by that, a sudden and horrifying turn of events unfolds before your eyes. Claws, belonging to the bear-like creature, come into view, encircling Levi’s small waist with a vice-like grip. Your heart sinks as you witness the viciousness of the attack.

The claws dig deep into his flesh, rending his flesh and leaving trails of blood in their wake. With a violent throw, Levi is hurled forcefully into the distance, his body colliding with a tree. The sickening sound of impact echoes through the air as he falls to the ground, motionless, leaving behind a streak of red on the tree’s bark.

“Levi!” Desperation and anguish well up within you as you scream hoarsely, calling out to him. The bear-thing is back, dragging its way over you with one of its legs dangling limply behind. A chilling dark black trail follows in its wake, turning the pure white snow into a disgusting sludgy mess. Blood. Its blood is black.

The air hangs heavy with fear as the creature looms over you, its presence suffocating. Paralyzed with terror, you can only tremble uncontrollably. Its massive paws sink into the snow on either side of you, a chilling reminder of your helplessness.

Its face, devoid of thought or reason, contorts in a grotesque and shifting manner, causing a wave of discomfort to wash over you. The sight is almost unbearable, making your eyes ache and your skin crawl. Saliva drips from its open maw, splattering warm and sticky against your trembling form. The repulsive sensation sends shivers down your spine as the creature's tongue extends, yearning for a taste of its prey.

Feeling overwhelmed and cornered, you close your eyes tightly, seeking refuge from the horror before you. This is it. This is it. Dread fills your every fiber as you resign yourself to this terrifying fate. The weight of guilt presses upon you, knowing that your actions may have condemned Levi to his demise as well.

But then, a voice cuts through the darkness, shattering the suffocating silence. "Hey, ugly fuck." The creature's attention is swiftly diverted, and you instinctively turn your gaze towards the source of the voice. Levi rises, despite his injuries, rolling his shoulders with a determined air. His arm hangs limply at his side, evidence of the harsh impact with the tree. The sight of the deep gashes on his waist, painting his side with a rapidly spreading pool of crimson, fills you with both concern and awe.

Blood trickles from his forehead, obscuring his eye. With a casual wipe of his forehead, he inspects the bloody mess on his fingertips, emitting a low tsk of disapproval. "Is that all you got?" he taunts, his voice laced with defiance and a touch of dark humor.

The wounds on Levi’s side emit an otherworldly steam, the flesh bubbling and reforming right before your eyes. As he rolls his mangled shoulder, a grimace of discomfort crosses his face before it audibly cracks back into place. The memory of the older girl’s words resurfaces in your mind, her whisper echoing vividly: “Nagas heal fast.”

Forgetting about you, the creature surges toward him with an uneven gait, roaring loudly. With lightning speed, he lunges forward to meet it, coiling his serpentine body tightly around the WildOne. His tail loops up and over the creature’s shoulders, securing its waist in a vise-like grip. Emitting a snarl that resonates with primal fury, he tightens his muscular coils, squeezing the life out of the beast. The rows upon rows of his sinewy muscles lock firmly, constricting and compressing the creature’s chest. With each wheeze and shudder of its failing breath, it stumbles on unsteady feet, weakened under the overwhelming force of Levi’s constriction.

Within the constricting grip of Levi's tail, the monstrous creature undergoes a grotesque transformation. Its flesh bubbles and swells, morphing into a hideous form as an unexpected limb sprouts from its shoulder. A wing emerges, black and sludgy, taking shape with feathers unfurling before your bewildered eyes. The wing flutters in a frantic and unnatural manner, its emergence accompanied by the audible cracking of the creature's ribs.

Levi's earlier words about Shifters now make perfect sense. This abomination is a shape-shifter, capable of assuming different forms. The creature writhes helplessly within the vice-like hold of Levi's coils, its bones audibly snapping and breaking with each agonizing twist. And then, with a sickening wet gurgle, it collapses, crashing onto the snow-covered ground, causing the earth beneath to tremble. The once formidable beast is now defeated.

“Why-” you wheeze as Levi quickly slithers to your side. “Why did you-” Why did you save me?

“Shut up,” he shushes you, tone soft despite the wording. Fingers digging into your shoulder blades, he urges you up. “We need to go. I don't have much longer out here and we don't want that things mother to discover us.”

“Coat-” you start with a wince, “you're not wearing your coat.”

“I was in too much of a hurry to grab it,” he explains distractedly. He's already shivering, lips tinting visibly blue. His tail curls behind you, helping to urge you upward, “Come on, up up up!”

“The-” you struggle, managing to your feet before your vision spots with black. “The shifter -why was it like that?”

“It was just a baby,” he explains, pressing to your side and wrapping an arm across your shoulder. He's warm. You shiver into his heat. “Shifters can only turn into the things they've consumed and it was still sloppy at even that.”

“A baby,” you repeat deliriously. Your leg is hot, for some reason. Everything else is ice cold, but your leg feels like it's on fire. Glancing down, your vision only finds pure, bright red. Blood. “I'm bleeding,” you mutter dumbly, staring down at the torn mess of your left thigh.

Three deep slashes mar your upper leg, starting from the inner thigh and gradually becoming more shallow towards the knee. The entire area is drenched in sticky, warm blood, saturating your leg and even seeping into your socks. Overwhelmed by the gruesome scene, a nauseating sensation engulfs you, threatening to make you sick. “I think I'm going to throw up.”

Levi’s expression turns grave, his jaw tightening. “Try not to look at it. We have to hurry,” Levi urges, pressing against your back. “Come on, walk with me. Stay with me, focus on staying conscious-”

Levi's urgent voice echoes in your fading awareness, urging you to keep moving despite the excruciating pain. With his support, you manage to take a step forward, but the intensity of the agony overwhelms you. Your vision blurs, and the edges darken as your body gives in to the strain.

Collapsing heavily against Levi's side, consciousness slips away, engulfed by the encompassing darkness. Time becomes elusive, and you drift in and out of awareness, caught between fleeting moments of consciousness and the depths of unconsciousness. Sensations pierce through the haze intermittently—aching pain, bone-chilling cold, and the unmistakable crunch of snow underfoot.

Through the fog, you catch fragments of Levi's voice, his curses ringing close to your ear. His hands apply pressure to your injured body, their sharp nails grazing your skin. You sense the shifting motion, the dragging sensation that signifies you are being moved, but your mind struggles to grasp the details.

In this liminal state between consciousness and oblivion, you cling to the thread of awareness, relying on Levi's strength and determination to guide you through the treacherous darkness.

As your consciousness returns, you find yourself within the familiar confines of Levi's nest, the comforting surroundings offering a momentary respite from the harrowing ordeal. Moaning in pain, you become acutely aware of the throbbing sensation radiating from your injured leg.

“You’re awake,” Levi's voice rumbles from where the fire is roaring behind you. His deep voice breaks through the haze, his presence assuring you of some semblance of safety. You turn towards the sound, catching sight of him feeding a log into the roaring fire. The flames dance and crackle, casting a warm and flickering glow throughout the cave. It's a larger fire than you've ever seen before, its intensity seemingly reflecting the urgency of your return.

“Hurts-” you manage with a soft whine. It's the worst pain you've ever felt in your life. You're too afraid to move and make it worse. “‘s bad.”

“You're soaked to the bone from the snow,” Levi clicks his tongue. “Need to get you out of those clothes so I can check your wounds.” It feels like he's mostly talking to himself, which might be for the best since you don't have the strength to talk.

Pressing to your side, he quickly pulls your top over your head. Your bra follows and he immediately buries your upper half beneath several pelts. Your boots come off next, first your right then your left. The latter is blindingly painful, your foot swollen and purplish. You hiss loudly, moaning in pain.

Sharp nails tear carefully into your trousers, separating the material from your wounded skin. The cloth has to be carefully peeled away from your upper thigh. Every bit of cloth pulled away is unbearably painful. “Shit,” his eyes widen as he stares in horror at the mess of your thigh, “That's not good.”

“‘s not?” you ask. God, you're dizzy even laying down. Raising your head, you strain to look. You only catch a glimpse of it, flesh torn open wide. Bloody and raw, portions of your thigh are dangling free in scraggly bits. Dazed, you watch blood leak lazily down your thigh in a thick rivulet before Levi urges your head back down. “-ow much blood have I lost?”

“Don't look,” he urges, pressing your shoulders down. The next thing you know, something wet is lapping softly at the wounds. Urgent and meticulous, it swipes warm against the edges of your open wound.

You look down and scream. Levi is lapping at your wound, licking up the blood.

He's eating you. He's eating you. He's eating you.

You panic, whimpering weakly and frantically trying to push him away. Kicking at him with your good leg, a solid and terrifyingly strong grip locks tight around your calf. Your mouth runs, but you can't hear yourself in your panic.

“Relax. I'm not eating you,” Levi tells you calmly. The tight grip on your calf remains, pressing the limb down into the bedding. His mouth is shiny and red with your blood. It practically drips from his chin. As he speaks, you see nothing but the dark red smeared along his teeth. “Naga saliva heals.”

Oh. It's a struggle to process what he means, the pain making your vision swim and your mind slow. The slide of his tongue against your broken skin hurts. It burns red hot, like being jabbed with a red hot iron.

It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. You scream, mind sinking into darkness yet again.

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” fingers press urgently to your face, swiping the soft skin beneath your eyes. Your name. Levi calls you your name again. “Open your eyes. Come on.”

Warm. You feel unusually warm. Delirious, you can't remember where you are. A forehead presses to your own, followed by a soft curse.

“Not again. This can't be happening again,” Levi mutters frantically above you. Something presses urgently to your lips. Warm and soft, they press into you, urging you to open up. Lips. They're lips. A palm cups the back of your head, oddly sticky, angling your neck to deepen the lip lock. A tongue presses through, sliding warm against your own. Fingers wrap around your neck, the thumb working circles into the column of your throat. “Swallow,” Levi urges you, voice desperate. “Come on, swallow.” His lips press to yours again.

“Mhmm,” you moan softly into the lip lock, eyes fluttering open. At his urging, the soft press of his thumb, you swallow thick. Iron. It tastes of iron. Your blood.

Darkness greets you yet again.

When you blink awake next, his chest is planted flat to your own. Hovering above you as if to shield you from the world, Levi starts the moment your eyes flutter open by calling your name softly, ”How are you feeling?”

Something shifts beneath you and you realize that you're resting tucked within the coils of his tail. The dark black scales are surprisingly soft, warm with almost a silk-like texture. “I-” you shift before yelping in pain. Pinching your eyes tight, you fight to keep the world from spinning yet again. You suck air between your teeth in a sharp hiss, “It hurts.”

“Don't move too much,” Levi frowns, chastising you softly. “I only just managed to seal the cuts.”

Seal them? If you had the energy, your eyebrows would raise incredulously. The deepest parts had probably grazed bone. “Why- why are you-”

Why are you helping me?

Other than the sharp ache in your leg, every part of you feels heavy and numb. It's as if your limbs suddenly weigh a thousand pounds, and a distant and fuzzy sensation envelops you. The tight cocoon of Levi's tail provides a cozy and comforting embrace, and the rhythm of his chest against yours is soothingly warm. Your eyelids grow heavy, inviting sleep.

"Shh," Levi urges softly, his sharp nails scraping gently along your shoulders. "Sleep if you want. I'll keep an eye on your wounds."

As you drift, you catch sight of your left foot, carefully protruding from Levi's protective coil. The sight evokes a quivering lip and a sob rising in your throat. It's a deep, ominous shade of purple, swollen and puffy. Your attempts to move your toes yield limited results. "My foot," you mournfully sob.

Levi shifts, shielding the sight with his shoulders. "It already looks better than before," he reassures you earnestly.

"Can't walk like this," you express your worry with a heavy swallow. "The storm is going to end, and I... I..."

"Don't worry about that," Levi interjects, his eyes widening.

"I have to go. Y-you said-"

"You can stay!" He interrupts again, his nails gently grazing your shoulders. "You can stay here as long as you need to heal. I'm only going to be here until spring, but my scent should stick to the cave and keep you safe enough."

Your lip wobbles as you express your concerns, "H-how am I supposed to get around like this? My mission... I-"

"Fuck that old man's rash. Once you're better, I'll escort you back home," Levi offers hastily. "I saw you get tossed, do you have any more injuries?"

His fingers press into your shoulders as his tail carefully flips you over. The realization hits you that you're naked. Underneath the layers of muscle and scales, there's nothing but bare skin. "No, no, no," you mutter repeatedly, fast and delirious. Fear surges through you, worrying that he'll see, he'll see.

Scars. Your back is covered in scars. You can tell the moment he sees them. Levi's breath hitches as his gaze falls upon the scars covering your back. A mix of shock, rage, and dread taints his voice as he asks, "Who did this to you?"

Your face remains buried in the soft deer pelt as your lips brush against the hide. Speaking slowly and with effort, your words carry the weight of the past, "Deserved it... was bad."

His fingers trace along your shoulder and down your spine, following the silvery lines etched by old wounds. "Some of these are really old," he observes, his voice filled with concern. "You were whipped. Did your parents do this?"

You nod in a daze, your mind clouded and thoughts scattered. "Can't go back," you repeat, your words slurring.

"They hurt you?" Levi's voice carries a mix of anger and concern. "Did you run away?"

You repeat your statement, emphasizing your inability to return home. The weight of your circumstances hangs heavy in the air.

Levi's fingers continue their gentle exploration along your spine as he responds, his voice filled with care and hesitation, "You don't have to... I-"

Not even registering his words, you continue to mumble, "Scales. Need the scales."

Time seems to stand still as the weight of your words sinks in. "What?" Levi's voice slices through the air, filled with shock and urgency. He spins you around to face him, disregarding any discomfort it causes you. His voice drops to a chilling whisper, colder than the harsh winter winds outside. His tail quivers around you, his gaze piercing and intense. "What did you just say?"

Your head hangs limply to the side, barely able to muster a response. The words escape your lips in a feeble, desperate tone, "Need the scales... Need luck."

Levi surges forward, looming in your face with a solid hiss. The enormous length of his tail rises, coiling terrifyingly behind his head. You get the sense that if he had a rattle, it's sound would be filling the air in an outright threat. “I fucking knew it,” he spits, eyes flaring red. “You're just like them.”

Levi's sudden aggression and the menacing display of his tail leave you paralyzed with fear. His face looms inches away from yours, his words dripping with venom. The scales around you tighten, constricting painfully as they exert their immense strength. You wince, feeling your ribs protest with a sickening creak. Trying to defend yourself, you stammer, "N-no, I-"

Levi straightens up, his imposing figure casting a dark shadow over you. The black scales writhe around him, intensifying the air of menace. His voice cuts through the silence, filled with disdain, "You're just like all the other humans. Greedy, horrid pigs who only want to take and exploit."

The weight of his accusations crushes down on you, and you struggle to find words amidst the fear and confusion. The pain intensifies, jolting you into a state of heightened awareness. Panic grips you as you realize the gravity of your accidental confession. Desperate to make Levi understand, you plead, "Please, listen-"

But before you can finish your sentence, Levi forcefully propels you towards the cave entrance. His voice is filled with anger and frustration as he shouts, "Go! Get out of here. I don't want to see you again."

Tears well up in your eyes as you whimper, "I can't... I can't move." Your broken and heavy limbs render you completely immobile, trapped in your own helpless state.

His lips thin and his jaw clenches with anger, the tension in the air palpable. He forcefully slides you forward until your back meets the cold stone of the entrance. "Then I'll throw you out in the snow! The giant will finally get his midnight snack."

With your hands pinned to your sides, you struggle against his grip, desperately trying to free yourself. "Please, let me explain!" you plead, your voice filled with urgency.

"Why?" he hisses, his fangs bared and gleaming in the flickering firelight. "Why should I? So you can continue to lie to me? To deceive and manipulate me?"

You feel a pang of guilt and frustration, realizing the depth of his mistrust. “No, it’s not like that,” you insist, your voice quivering. The pain in your thigh intensifies, reminding you of your desperate situation. “Please, no,” you plead, your voice filled with desperation. “Levi, don’t do this!”

“I trusted you!” he shouts, his voice laced with anger and betrayal. “I thought you were kind! Cute, even.” His nostrils flare as he catches the scent of your fresh blood, and his tongue darts out to taste it. “You humans are so blinded by greed that you forget how weak you really are.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you struggle to find the right words. “I’m not like them,” you gasp, your voice choked with emotion. You try to shout, but the words end up more of a hoarse wheeze, “If I go back empty-handed, they’ll kill me!”

He pauses, tail loosening slightly. His head cocks to the side in silent askance, his eyes softening with a mix of curiosity and concern.

Rushing to explain, your words come out quiet and fast, “People kept dying around me! They called me a witch! A monster! I was declared bad luck and exiled. I can only go back if I bring Naga scales.”

He blinks slowly and double lidded, teeth bared, “And I was just -what- a convenient find?”

Chest heaving against the muscles binding you, you yell with the last of your strength, “I don't want your scales! I don't want to go back! There's nothing to go back to! I don't even remember what the color of your scales mean. I spent how many hours in your presence and I never even tried anything!”

Levi’s snarl intensifies, his face contorting with anger. His muscles ripple with tension as he forcefully guides you towards the mouth of the cave. He growls, his voice laced with accusation, “I caught you watching me, staring at me-”

Feeling defeated and powerless, you lie there, a heavy and lifeless weight, allowing him to push you across the frigid stone. The cold snow seeps into the back of your head, amplifying the bleakness of the situation. Your lip trembles as you summon the courage to speak, “It was a death sentence. I knew that from the moment they threw me in a cage. They never expected me to come back anyway.” Admitting the harsh truth out loud for the first time feels both liberating and terrifying.

The atmosphere is heavy with silence as Levi processes your words. His snarl gradually subsides, replaced by a mixture of surprise and contemplation. The tension in his muscles eases slightly, though his grip remains firm. His gaze softens with a hint of understanding, and a glimmer of empathy shines through his eyes.

Levi's voice trembles as he speaks, his eyes still closed, his face etched with a mix of sorrow and empathy. "Cage?" he whispers, barely audible, as if the weight of those words crushes him. His back muscles twitch and convulse, visibly displaying the pain and anger building within him.

His eyes reopen, filled with profound sadness. His voice sounds small and distant. "They kept you in a cage?"

For several moments, his eyes look distant, dark, and lost. All of his anger fades like a flick of a switch, his shoulders sagging. With a loud huff, you're pulled back into the cave and onto the bedding. "Fine." Levi slides back to you, pressing his chest against yours. "I trust you."

Teeth chattering and heart still throbbing, you rush to apologize, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry for lying! I'm sorry for-"

"Go to sleep," he urges you softly, his tail wrapping comfortably tight around you once more. "You apologize too much." Feeling chilly, you bury your nose into his chest, seeking warmth.

You must have muttered that out loud because he responds, "That's because your skin is still like ice." Your body aches, and darkness begins to creep into your vision once again. His soft rumble is the last thing you hear, "By the way, black means strength."

[the-martyrfication-of-the-matron]

some songs i recently suggested to @ang3lic-t3ars bc i might as well get my music taste judged (or introduce people to some new music)

if anyone on here is problematic, idk, this is just the music i found on spotify

Fade into you - Mazzy star Twilight - Boa Duvet - Boa Within the depths of a darkened forest - Autumn’s grey solace Criminal - Fiona apple (or anything by Fiona apple) True Romance - She Wants Revenge (or anything by She Wants Revenge) Zero - The Smashing Pumpkins Anything by Ethel Cain Andromeda - Weyes Blood She’s in parties - Bauhaus SpellBound - Siouxie And The Banshees Arabian Knights - Siouxie and the banshees (honestly anything by SATB) Kiss me until my lips fall off - Lebanon Hanover Sacrifice - London after midnight Losing My Religion - R.E.M Hotel California - Eagles House of the rising sun - The Animals Californication - Red Hot Chilli Peppers The Chain - Fleetwood Mac (or anything by Fleetwood Mac) Wanted Dead or alive - Bon Jovi To love a boy - Maya Hawke No Return - Anna Waronker Bad Things - Jace Everett Fear of Dying + My Cat - Jack Off Jill Only happy when it rains - Garbage Army Dreamers - Kate Bush Jennifer’s Body - Hole Star Man, Space Oddity, Life on Mars - David Bowie (or anything Bowie) Let’s go to bed - the cure Gallowdance - Lebanon Hanover Love Will Tear Us Apart - Joy Division Dark Entries - Bauhaus The Passion of lovers - Bauhaus Fantasmas- Twin Tribes Heaven Knows I’m miserable now - The Smiths The Sanity Assassin - Bauhaus Bela Lugosi’s Dead - Bauhaus Happy House - Siouxie and the banshees Lucretia my reflection - Sisters of Mercy Rape me - Nirvana Nothing matters - The Last Dinner Party Paper bag - Fiona apple I love my boyfriend - Princess Chelsea death of the phone call - Whatever, dad I threw glass at my friends eyes and now I’m on probation - Destroy Boys We’ll never have sex - Leith Ross Kingslayer - Bring Me The Horizon (ft. BABYMETAL) Nobody - Skindred Make me wanna die - the pretty reckless These things - she wants revenge Red flags and long nights - she wants revenge Dark entries - Bauhaus I don’t wanna fall in love - she wants revenge Rachael - she wants revenge Human fly - the cramps A little bit harder now - she wants revenge All wound up - she wants revenge Black Sheep - poor man’s poison Time in a bottle - Jim Croce Fish in a birdcage - Fish in a birdcage Feed the machine - poor man’s poison My alcoholic friends - the Dresden dolls Twin size mattress - the front bottoms Snake dance - March violets She will always be a broken girl - she wants revenge Lonely day - System of a down Black Cathedral - This cold night In the room where you sleep - Dead man’s bones Casualty - Snake River conspiracy The Killing Moon - Echo & The Bunnymen

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Falling Stardust: Chapter One

Falling Stardust: You, an innocent and naive fallen star, tumble out of Morpheus’s cloak and get wrapped up in his possessive and dark love.

Warnings: None.

To Note: Dark!Morpheus x FemStar!Reader (Reader is Named Astra).

Word Count: ~2.2k

Masterlist | Next

“Something is wrong with the celestial ones,” Morpheus softly spoke, his eyes gazing up at the night sky of his beloved realm. “They’ve dimmed from what I remember. They used to be so bright, so luminous in their echoes of light and energy.”

“I’m afraid the stars have also suffered in your absence,” Lucienne offered in explanation, silently moving to stand beside her lord. “We have no way to converse with them so I fear that we may never quite know what ails them.”

“All is not well,” Morpheus murmured, his eyes reflecting the entities that hung in the sky. “Surely someone within the realm knows what is amiss…” Lucienne blinked then frowned as she ran through the dreams and nightmares within The Dreaming that might have an inkling as to what was wrong with the stars high above.

“Perhaps Nox knows what is amiss?” Lucienne asked, thinking of the dream of night and darkness. “Surely he would know as he interacts with the stars the most?” Morpheus nodded in agreement.

“Then to Nox we shall go for I fear the repercussions of losing the light of our celestial neighbors.” Morpheus said before striding away from the observatory, his coat flapping behind him. Lucienne followed him, wondering if this would be just as grave of a problem as the Vortex has been.

The pair left behind the palace and the village to walk down the winding road that led into the forest where Nox lived. He liked the darkness, to steep within the thick underbrush and hide from the light of the sun. If anyone lingered among the stars more than anyone, it would be Nox. The path to Nox’s humble abode was dark and full of overgrown plants that twisted and curled into the path ahead. But upon Morpheus approaching, they curled backward and disappeared into the underbrush in recognition of their master. There would be no hiding from Morpheus, nor evasion of inquiry.

Nox knew the moment his creator had set out for his home. It was inevitable the moment the celestial bodies started darkening, dying, even. Nox had long since soared in the skies, swam within the rivers of the stars until they became the kaleidoscope that those in The Dreaming saw overhead. He had befriended many a star, unlike the Dream Lord, and was privy to the secrets of the celestial beings very few had the privilege to converse with. So when Morpheus knocked on his door, he spared the door to his abode barely a glance before returning his eyes to the book he held.

“Tis open!” He called, licking his finger, and changing page. The door opened and Morpheus swept in, his presence filling the small cottage in an ever-expanding cloud. Lucienne followed behind shortly, eyeing the simplistic space. It needed more bookshelves, more books. Nox closed his book and set it aside, raising his nebula filled eyes to his creator.

“Lord Morpheus, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?” Morpheus raised an eyebrow at his creation. Surely Nox knew the reason for such a visit, his old and wise dream was no fool.

“We need to speak of a concerning issue within the realm.” Morpheus drew out, his eyes lingering on the vivid abysses of Nox’s eyes. He had been sculpted from the darkest depths of space to create the most beautiful and imaginative night sky, one worthy of stretching across the skies of The Dreaming. All who gazed up Nox were blessed with the twinkling claritude and swells of glowing life.

“To what issue of yours may I help with, my lord?” Nox aired out fluidly. “I am but the sky that graces your realm during its nocturnal cycle. What aid could I render to a being such as you?” Morpheus’s lips twitched, he had added, perhaps, a bit too much cheek to his incredible night sky.

“The stars, my precious darkness,” Morpheus answered, regarding his dream with a serious gaze. “They have dimmed, you of all of creations have the most interactions with the celestial ones. Tell me, what is happening to them that their light has faded so greatly?” Nox was happy to find that his creator cared enough about the celestial ones to investigate their dimming. To make them a priority among the many ailments The Dreaming still suffered from.

“My lord, they are the celestial ones of The Dreaming,” Nox answered as if the answer the Dream Lord sought was obvious. “You were gone for 106 years; the physical buildings were not the only ones to decay and crumble.”

“The celestial ones are their own power sources, are they not capable of sustaining themselves?” Morpheus queried, his brow furrowing. “What robs them of their light?”

“The celestial ones are their own power sources,” Nox agreed, “but they are also your stars, not just the stars of the known universe. Your magic was gone and they suffered.”

“But I am back, surely my return is enough to return them to their former glory. They are not young and inexperienced.” Morpheus said, still not understanding how such wise and old stars could lose such brightness.

“Sir,” Lucienne spoke up, remembering the solstice that had occurred at the beginning of the 1900th century. “The protostar aeon formation was due shortly before your capture. There was the birth of a new star.” She pointed out. “I have no doubt that the celestial ones spent all their energy reserves protecting the protostar. Surely that has had an impact on their brightness. They’ve neglected themselves to save the youngest of their kind.”

“The protostar,” Morpheus murmured, once again angry at himself for overlooking and missing out on such an event that only occurred once every aeon. The stars that brightened his realm were precious to him, illuminating his beloved dreams and nightmares. Morpheus hadn’t even taken the time to meet the protostar that had exploded into creation in a dynamic shower of light and beauty. In his captivity Morpheus had plenty of time to think about how he had ruled his realm, his people. He hadn’t been able to protect them and now that he was aware of the dangers to his creations and precious stars, Morpheus was determined to protect them at all costs. “Nox, have you been able to contact the elder celestial ones?”

“If I could my answer to you would be different, my Lord.” Nox sighed. “I would hopefully, have answers for you. But no matter how long I traverse the sea of stars they no longer speak to me and grow dormant.”

“Perhaps it is time to consult the library, my lord?” Lucienne interjected, knowing that no further information could be found at Nox’s home, nor from the dream himself. “Surely the books shall glean some sort of information that we can make use of?”

“Very well,” Morpheus smoothly replied, his eyes flickering to his head librarian. “Will you pull the text of old from the shelves?” Lucienne bowed her head.

“Of course, sir,”

Morpheus had been in an immensely broody mood since discovering that his stars had suffered from his absence. Even more so when he had remembered that he had missed the birth of the next star. The old celestial ones had given up so much brightness all to protect the one Morpheus should have been protecting.

“Uh, sir?” Matthew questioned hesitantly, not wanting the broodiness to be aimed at him. “Have you made any progress on talking with the stars?”

“No,” Morpheus grumbled, his eyes fading as he once again tried to expand his conscious to at the very least, feel the state of his stars. Nothing, just an abyss of silence that was hauntingly empty. Perhaps the celestial ones had lost their ability to communicate after protecting the protostar. But if they had lost a large portion of their power who was going to protect the young and vulnerable protostar? “I fear that the elder celestial ones might not be able to shelter the protostar from all that can harm them.”

“What happens if the elderly stars can’t protect the young one? Do they die?” Matthew asked in great concern, cocking head side to side and shuffling his wings. Morpheus’s eyes glowed with undying stars.

“Some die, collapsing in on themselves to form a mass of all that is left of their light, some explode into a shower of fire and destruction…” Morpheus trailed off, his mind lingering on the fate that all stars dreaded the most: falling. The celestial ones would rather have any fate other than to fall from the great expanse of space that cradled them in darkness and silence.

“Sir?” Matthew prompted. Morpheus drew himself out of his inner thoughts and looked to Matthew standing before him.

“To fall from their celestial cradle is the worst fate that can befall a celestial one, but it takes a great amount of power and energy to steal a star from its cradle, and a dark soul to rip one from their intimate home.” Morpheus’s eyes glimmered with unadulterated abhorrence at the mere insinuation that someone would do such a thing. Matthew felt a shiver run down his spine and knew that whoever knocked a star from Morpheus’ night sky, would have to deal with Dream of the Endless himself.

“Do you think someone is gonna try and knock a star down?” Matthew asked. “Because it sounds like your stars are vulnerable right now and that’d be the perfect time to—“ The smooth marble beneath Matthew’s little feet started trembling and shaking violently. The raven let out a squawk and took to the air as Morpheus surged to his feet. The eaves of the throne room groaned as the trembles continued throughout the realm, but not even Morpheus could cease the shaking instantly. No, he had to search his realm for the source of the intruding power wreaking havoc on his realm.

Morpheus was halfway through walking down the stairs to his throne when Nox and Lucienne stumbled their way into the throne room.

“My lord!” Lucienne called, alarm clear in her voice.

“I have almost located the intrusion,” Morpheus responded, his eyes glowing with stars. He found it and viciously severed the connection, breaking the attacker from being able to interact with his realm. The moment the intruder was severed from The Dreaming the trembles and shakes ceased.

“What was that?” Lucienne exclaimed, adjusting her spectacles which had gotten skewed from the trembles. “What being could have done such a thing?”

“A second Vortex?” Nox offered, his nose scrunched in confusion.

“No, we are not due for another one,” Morpheus spoke before looking down at Matthew who fluttered past him. “Matthew?”

“Uh, you’re gonna wanna look see this, boss,” Matthew spoke, landing a few steps up and staring at the lump that was beneath the tail of Morpheus star inlaid coat. He pecked at the corner of the coat and dragged it back to reveal a hand and arm. Dread filled Morpheus, the echoes to the celestial ones high above just strong enough for him to be aware that they had just lost a sister. Nox cursed loudly and darted forwards.

“Oh gods, please let it naught be her,” He breathed out, rushing up the stairs and kneeling down next to Matthew.

“Nox? What is it?” Matthew asked, not fully understanding the gravity of what had just occurred.

“Be naught her, be naught her, gods,” Nox repeated over and over as he reached forward. “Any of the celestial ones would be better than her.” Nox’s worst fears were confirmed the moment shimmering stardust hair was revealed. Nox pulled the cloak back far enough to reveal the face of a young woman. Upon closer inspection, Matthew could see shimmering metallic lines decorating unblemished skin in a unique pattern. She was almost inhumanely beautiful.

“So this is…?” Matthew questioned as Nox began weeping.

“A fallen star,” Morpheus answered softly, feeling the devastating loss echoing across the night sky as the elder celestial ones mourned their loss.

“It’s not just a fallen star, Lord Dream, it was the protostar that was stolen from her cradle.” Nox whispered painfully. “She never stood a chance! She’s too young and innocent!”

“Nox,” Morpheus called, slowly removing his coat. “The celestial ones need you; you must go to them to ease their pain.” Nox nearly reared back.

“You cannot expect me to leave her here in such vulnerability!?” He exclaimed, his face flushing. Morpheus covered the fallen star’s body with his coat before kneeling next to Nox and placing his hand on his shoulder.

“Nox, they are in need of you,” Morpheus gently reminded his dream. “There is nothing you can do to save her from this fate, you of all beings know this.”

“I will not leave her vulnerable, she is not even a quarter millennia old!” Nox weakly protested. Morpheus stared insistently.

“You think that I shall ever let any harm befall her?” He queried. “You have my upmost promise that I shall protect her with every part of my being, Nox.” Morpheus promised, the dream sniffed and rubbed his nose.

“Very well,” Nox softly replied. “My lord, you should know that she will not be used to either light nor sound, please be gentle, she— she is so young and precious… we must protect her, must protect her.” Nox shakily rose to his feet and with one last mournful look at the fallen star, trudged out of the throne room to ease the agony of the celestial ones.

Date Published: 1/18/23

Last Edit: 4/4/23

Masterlist | Next

[the-forests-blessing]

Chapter 7

There’s something therapeutic about disabling simple traps set out for him. It’s a daily ritual. There’s a muted sense of pride to be felt in keeping the innocent creatures away from harm, and away from the hunters that invade his forest. The hunters that plague his entire life are a sickness he knows that he’ll never truly be free from. Staying hidden in the forest is the only cure when it comes to survival. There used to be some semblance of a sanctuary he found deep within the heart of the forest. Where the shadows are darker, and the fog is thick. The mobs don’t even find safety and comfort in the glittering teal glow of the foliage and knotted roots. 

     This is where he thrives, this is where he finds his peace and quiet.      That is... until these past few moons. 

     There’s a pesky blond bee that keeps buzzing around his territory, talking to himself and leaving tracks all over his pathways. Wasted efforts in keeping that human out, for he keeps returning and asking more and more questions. Hard to have an opinion on such an unfamiliar face, he’s never seen him amongst Beacon’s guards nor hunters. Nor.. anybody!      While the scholar evades the deity’s enthusiasm, he also evades his will to cast him out after that grandiose display of.. something . Something different that Admin has not seen in all his years of haunting these woods. The human seems to care for the wildlife and has no fear of traversing the fog that lay, having.. apologized for the plucked leaf. Although he’s just a mere scholar, for his insistence and determination, the Admin cannot fault him for just being a human. Though he’s loud, clumsy, and very ill prepared for any sort of threat; Admin felt seen, just for a moment.      A spark within the author's gaze, the words he had spoken. Admin had taken the first chance he could to leave him alone now that he’s gotten a much closer look at who’s scaring the birds and stumbling through his trails. That excited gleam in his eye, always pointed upward towards the trees.. It’s no wonder he fell into that pitfall. The insolence of those hunters, they never truly realize the trouble they cause or the dangers they put themselves in, with the scholar included.      His boots land heavy in the mud as he makes his own tracks toward the familiar depth of his own woods. Everyday is a different path, but one he’s walked before with the decade he’s spent alone. While images of that blond man flash in his mind like static memories, the deity finds the pitfall once more.      The pitfall that seems to be the cause of it all. The forest has been much noisier since the scholar fell, his stupidity was blinded by bravery and curiosity. He’s seen the notes, he’s seen the clothes, and he’s seen the man’s inventory. Not a single weapon wielded by this surprisingly brave author. There’s no right reason why the man would be traveling alone during the night in such an unfamiliar place. 

     The Admin frowns and shakes his head at the feel of an irritating beetle crawling upon his hair. With a few scratches the pesky little bug goes away. His illuminated gaze rises as he takes in the surrounding foliage. Checking for signs of any further.. tampering. He stands motionless as he then peers down, seeing the pointed wooden stakes that now stick up from the muddy pitfall, the mild scent of residual smoke makes him scrunch up his nose. Horrid. These hunters.. They find one of their own citizens, be it very ill prepared, and they return to not only check the pit, but to make it more dangerous. The scholar would die from this newly set trap. No cover, no ropes, no precautions taken while resetting the pitfall. All it would take is another rainy night.      Briefly the sun shines through the clouds, the light catching within his gaze. So he looks upward, shading his darkened eyes with a raised palm. It’s been a very long time since the sun broke through this dense fog. Seeing its light, and feeling the warmth upon his face, seems like years since he’s felt this. And only for a moment too, before the sun is shrouded in the clouds and its rays snuffed out. With an exhale, the Admin looks back down to the pit. Using that same hand raised for the sun, he lowers it just a bit, keeping it hovered above the deep hole.      The earth beneath his feet begins to shake as the sound of tearing roots and pouring dirt fills the air. In mere seconds the wooden stakes are buried, snapping loudly as the weight of the dirt and mud begins to settle in fast. Without a sound from the deity himself, he turns his wrist and flexes his fingers before tightly closing a strong fist as the trap is completely filled in. With the author in mind, the patch of land has been restored to its former self. The trap will eventually be forgotten, as were the past traps he’s destroyed already. He scuffs his boot along the damp soil.

     Naturally, the grass would take some time, but that’s what’s lovely about the forest, it's his domain and his influence runs deep. With another wave of a mighty blue palm, unseen sprouts come to life and bloom within an instant. The grass grows into a small patch of dark green, while soft white wildflowers puff up and bloom. Naturally weeds come in too, while the soil itself decides what is going to grow. The damp moss will be quick to spread with the fallen rain that still lingers within the substrate, so he leaves it alone to bloom naturally.      Admin drops his hand, expressionless as he looks over his work, then over his wide palm adorned by a leather glove torn with time and use. He knows the author will return, no matter how often he’s kicked out. A single deep sigh later and he runs his palm down his face. The area hardly looks the same without the massive hole, the flowers hide the scars.       So he turns and carries on his way, further into the thicket.      When completely alone, after spending quite a bit of time with the little blue creature, it’s strange when the Allay is not around. The skittish little bugger must be searching for its new friend, the lack of trilling in his ear reminds him that it is his own fault. Behaving in ways he doesn’t understand. He recalls how he treated the author the previous day, coming from the shadows and instilling fear. This man has betrayed everything he knows already about humans; how they lie and cheat, and say what they believe will keep them protected. The Admin grimaces. He is nothing but just another trespasser. One who’s.. Shown interest in the forests biome and refused to believe the rumors spun around by the BeaconTown guard. No threats, no pleading for his life, he only..      ‘You.. don’t talk...’ The man had said. 

     ‘They said you’d kill me..’ The thought never crossed his mind. The scholar's eyes were so painfully honest as he continued to speak. Even after throwing him to the dirt day after day.. It was strange, undeniably different and too friendly. Regardless, the blond is still clumsy, stupid, and distracting. Invasive. Something to keep an eye on, for he may switch up when given the chance..       Admin scratches at his hair yet again, having spent enough time thinking about the scholar, it’s slowed his patrol for long enough and he’s not even here yet. There’s plenty of daylight left, it’s only a matter of time.

     ~

     Lukas wasted no time packing up for another adventure into the woodland bordering Beacon’s territory. The trees are just too tempting as compared to the drab sights BeaconTown has to offer. Seriously, whoever chose to change the town’s vibrant array of colors to this dull mixture of reds and blacks needs a big wake up call. It just makes the place look so… self centered. A vision composed by one person rather than the citizens the town promised to bestow creativity towards. If it’s the mayor’s doing, someone really needs to go to her office with an extensive and well thought out complaint. 

     The town would probably benefit better if it was gifted the right to create once again. 

     What on earth is holding them back? 

     Our author stands at the end of the grassy field, just barely touching the tree line. His attention was briefly brought back to that imposing tower in the sky. He watches the clouds drift lazily overhead, just barely grazing its peak. Such a powerful monument... He wonders if that’s the place where this mayor resides. Afterall, he hasn’t seen her, or even heard of her outside of the quiet mentions of her existence from few willing conversations here in town. Lukas drags his eyes off it, finding it to be nothing but a distraction from his goal. 

     Yesterday was a massive leap in progress in comparison to the past week since he arrived in town. 

     While the Admin certainly did frighten him a tad at first, he quickly reassured himself with the reminder that this is the same guy who had made an effort in saving him from the pitfall. He didn’t have to, but the fact that he did keeps Lukas’ spirits high. He’s not sure what the tension between BeaconTown and the Admin is. He wishes someone would just tell him, but he’s quite confident that that knowledge is far out of reach, at least for now. With a town full of neglected citizens, too weary to speak of the town’s true nature, and with an Admin.. This massive, expressionless, and mute god who keeps his secrets to himself. Well…

     Lukas can only hope that with time will come understanding. 

     Today’s focus is… A proper introduction! And hopefully the Admin accepting his advance in establishing a form of communication that he’d come up with the night prior. 

     The moment Lukas breaches the dense fog, he can already tell something is different. The fog didn’t linger very long, nor did it take him through a maze of twists and turns. The blue mist filled his vision and, within seconds, he was emerging on the other side of the forest. The Admin’s forest. 

     Today, he took himself down the most familiar route he’s taken thus far. The same one he’d familiarized himself with on his first adventure through the shadowed woodland before his excitement was cut short by an… unforeseen pitfall trap. The only difference this time is he’s well more acquainted with his surroundings and… Dewey isn’t here. His ocelot companion he knows is safer residing back at the BeacInn. He knows Dewey wants to join him, as he makes a show of it every morning with a begging meow and an extending paw before Lukas heads out the door. Lukas’ heart is crushed every time he leaves him, but ever since he fell into that trap, his mind explores treacherous and unwanted thoughts where it’s Dewey who gets caught, and if there’s deadlier traps awaiting him... 

     Lukas shakes off that thought. He’s safe back in the room. He’s probably curled up on the bed, dreaming of chasing birds while snoozing in the nearest sun beam. 

     One thing Lukas recognizes is different about the dark forest as compared to the normal one, is that this one here is undoubtedly more wet. Even with the few rainless days he’s been blessed with, there still seems to be a wealthy supply of moisture enriching the soil here. From the damp moss that covers the trees and their twisted roots, down to the muddy substrate that dirties the forest floor, it makes traversing the forest a bit more tricky, especially not wanting to get his nicer shoes wet. 

     “Mmmaybe today would have been a good day to wear my gear.” He ponders, gazing down upon the muddy ground. It’s not muddy to the point that the ground will grab his shoes and suction against them like the sticky mud in mangrove swamps, but it is enough to make Lukas a bit less confident in where he’s stepping. The blond sighs and gives his surroundings a good look over before he decides to just get over it. What kind of ecologist would he be if he’s afraid of getting a little dirty? Lukas presses forward, simply keeping a close eye on where he’s stepping. 

     Eventually, Lukas is approaching a familiar spot. Or well, at least a spot that felt familiar before he approached closer and, to his surprise… 

     Lukas looks around, recognizing this clearing as something familiar but… different all the same. He could have sworn he was on the correct path that led him to the pitfall he’d been fated to discover. He remembers some of the trees and moss placement from when he would glance up from the map he’d been working on, but… 

     There is no pitfall. There is, however, a nice little patch of grass sprouting from the earth and what seems to be a few delicate flowers protruding from the damp soil. Lukas approaches the patch, kneeling down and gently laying out his palm. He graces the flower with the soft touch of his palm, examining it closely. “Woah… beautiful.” The blond whispers his awe. “Azure bluet? Growing out here?” He draws his hand back and stands, backing away from the patch. “ That’s strange. Not the kind of flower I’d be expecting to see growing in some place so…” He looks around. “ Dark.” He lifts his journal from his bag and jots down a few notes. “Though I guess strange isn’t anything out of the ordinary here.” 

     Well… He came here today with a goal. The author sticks his journal back into his bag, closing it with a soft pat. He returns his gaze to the foggy distance of the forest, taking a few minutes to work up his confidence. Why he’s suddenly so anxious to initiate contact with the Admin? He isn’t sure. He probably already knows Lukas is here, but knowing now that the creature who saved him and is the soul protector of these woods is a god… Well, it’s just a bit nerve wracking trying to get the guy's attention, because after most of his short encounters with him, he’s not exactly certain the Admin really wants it. 

     “Admin! Hello!” Lukas calls out to him anyway. Calling the deity’s… name? Or title. He isn’t sure. That alone encourages Lukas to extend his reach further, calling out louder, listening to how the forest of silence is no more with his continuous calls for attention. “It’s me…again!”  The hand he had risen up to his mouth as he called the Admin’s name now falls. The blond looks around, and of course, he’s not seeing much. After yesterday’s outburst, Lukas wonders if he’s simply awaiting a challenge again. Waiting for Lukas to say the wrong thing or make the wrong move just to take advantage of the moment and catch Lukas off guard in some way. 

     After a whole four minutes of waiting, the Admin never shows. “I guess.. You won’t mind if I go deeper into the forest then?” Lukas tries to instigate some sort of appearance. Nothing. 

     The ecologist sighs deeply, feeling the heavy pressure of disappointment weigh him down. He carefully walks around the little patch of delicate white flowers, admiring them one last time before he begins to press further in. This will be the deepest he’s gone so far. While he was hoping to at least talk with the Admin, he knows that there’s still much exploring to be had. So he continues onto a new trail, the path dark and muddy. 

     It’s not long before he’s noticing something deep within the dark mud. Lukas stops and stares, recognizing the unmistakable shape of boot impressions within the damp earth. Excitement surges through him instantly. The blond wanders close, kneeling down to examine the tracks closer until he’s realizing… the impressions are heading towards him. Back to that small clearing with the flower patch. His disappointment returns. He didn’t see any impressions on the way to the clearing, so the Admin must have taken a different route, or he simply teleported himself away, leaving no tracks to follow. 

     In that single moment, Lukas feels a chill breeze glide by. The blond’s skin prickles with goosebumps, and the hair on the back of his neck raises. Though he doesn’t feel fear, his body reacts to the feeling of being watched. Lukas swiftly turns his head over his right shoulder and… sees nothing. …Silence… That uneasy feeling returns again, so he looks over his left shoulder and still… nothing. “Hello?” Lukas stares back behind himself while he stands, his eyes slowly scanning the trees. 

     Slowly, the blond drags his gaze away from the path he came and– “Oh my gosh-!” He stumbles back a bit, looking at the cheerful blue spirit he’s been so restless to see again. The Allay laughs at his surprise, the sound so heavenly, it immediately eases the human’s tension. Lukas straightens with a relieved sigh. “It’s you… You and your Admin friend sure do like surprising me, huh?” Lukas’ startled expression has softened since recognizing the Allay, watching it flutter around him merrily. “Have you been following me?” He asks.

     The Allay merely blinks at him. Its eyes close as it then nods. 

     “Heh, you and the Admin sure share some similarities then. …Do you know where he is?” Lukas asks and, to his surprise, watches the Allay stop fluttering to tap at its own face as if to ponder a thought. It emotes similarly to humans, he examines. How much experience does this Allay have around humans? What of its origins? Lukas wonders. He watches the Allay turn and flutter back the way he had come, so he follows it. Out of the thicket and back to that little clearing with the flower patch. Lukas stands at the edge of the small circular space between the trees, watching the Allay closely as it flutters around the bundle of flowers. 

     “Listen, I don’t think he’s around here, trust me. I spent almost five minutes embarrassing myself by calling him and nothing happened.” He tries to explain, but the Allay itself seems distracted by the flower patch. The little spirit flutters around the patch of white flowers, kind of reminding Lukas of how a bee buzzes around flowers when collecting pollen. He doubts this is anything similar to that, because now the Allay returns to him, clutching a flower close to its body, then drops it off into Lukas’ waiting palm. The author looks down at the plucked flower, confused. “Well, thank you , it’s lovely, but I’m not sure this is going to help me here.” He says as he tucks the azure bluet into his satchel and gives the Allay a gentle smile. 

     The creature doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to him anymore. Its focus is now maintained on the satchel Lukas carries over his shoulder. The Allay makes a move towards it, pulling at its flap. “Well hold on a sec,” the human chuckles, humored by the little creatures' lack of muscle. Seriously, it could hardly lift the flap open with the golden magnetic strip keeping the flap secure against the bag. “Here, I think I know what you’re looking for,” Lukas walks to the grass patch and settles down on his knees, settling on everything but the flowers. “I wanted to bring enough for both of us this time.” Lukas reaches into this bag and draws out a single bundle, offering it to the Allay. “For you.” 

     The Allay hesitates.

     Lukas tilts his head to the side, puzzled by the lack of reaction. Instead, he holds out the bundle further. “They’re sweet berries. You loved it last time, remember?” he asks. 

     Lukas’ gaze searches the Allay, wondering what’s gotten it so… immobilized, when suddenly– Our author sucks in a sharp breath, his entire body freezing in place, his hand still and unmoving as another hand, much larger and blue reaches down from behind him and gently takes the bundle from him. Lukas and the Allay both look up, the spirit with a lack of expression, meanwhile Lukas is stunned into silence. 

     The Admin stands behind him. Tall, dark, and extremely menacing. His illuminated gaze locked with Lukas’ own, again bearing an unfriendly glare that would freeze the hearts of any unfortunate soul who dares trespass into his territory. The bundle stays lifted in his hand as they lock eyes. 

     “Uhh…” Is the most Lukas is capable of uttering until a few more intense seconds pass. “I uh..” Lukas averts his gaze while he stands, noticing how quick the deity is to take a number of heavy, yet slow steps back from him. The distance between them grows once again, and Lukas is stuck in his spot next to the azure bluets while the Allay comes to a comfortable hover near his shoulder. He glances at the trusting spirit, then back towards the Admin. The silent entity stays close to the shadows of the trees, allowing the most of what Lukas can make out of him only to be his glowing eyes. 

     “H-hey there..” Keep it together. Our writer straightens himself into a polite and proper posture, closing his eyes briefly just to breathe in and regain his professional composure before opening them once again. “About yesterday.. I apologize humbly for my outburst. Today I hope to make up for my wrongdoing by properly introducing myself.” He reaches out, extending a hand to initiate a handshake. “My name is Lukas.” 

     …

     The deity’s eyes sharply glance down at the invitation, yet he makes no move to return the gesture. Lukas feels his chest tighten with embarrassment, slowly withdrawing his hand and laying it back at his side. “Oookay. We can work on that– the handshake I mean.” He says, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck with his other hand. “Well. Admin… Should I call you that? Is that just a title or your actual name?” Lukas asks curiously, eyeing the deity with wondrous suspicion. The question only seems to make the Admin’s glare strengthen. Lukas backtracks on that question. “Alright. Admin it is then.” He smiles nervously, though the Admin doesn’t make any attempt at correcting him. Jeez.. He could really use a mere nod or shake of his head right about now. 

     “Did you hear me calling you earlier?

     …

     Lukas sighs, finally laying his hands on his hips, his eyes descending to the ground at his feet. What do I say to him!? I know he’s understanding me. What do I do here to get a response? Or just��� anything! Lukas’ brows furrow, feeling increasingly worried about what to say. Maybe I should just be forward with him? I don’t really have much of an option if he’s just going to stand there and stare at me. 

     The Allay is the first to make a move between them, fluttering over to the Admin. Lukas watches as the deity turns his expressionless features to his spirit companion, then to the blond’s surprise, lays the bundle out in his massive palm, allowing it to unravel and the Allay digging in, pulling a berry out. The Allay chimes happily, doing a spin before wandering back over towards Lukas. The author is overjoyed to see the Allay finally accept his offer, albeit from the gloved hands of the Admin. Lukas watches the deity himself tuck the rest of the bundle into one of his own pockets on his utility belt. 

     Lukas blinks, realizing… “You’re the one that took them before?” He asks, then doesn’t pay much attention for an answer he knows he isn’t going to get. “I figured it was just the Allay, but if you like them too, then I can bring more for all of us when I come back.” He smiles shyly and grasps his arm, knowing damn well he’s practically promising the Admin he’ll be back. He wants to ask if that’s okay, if the deity would like that, but it’s hard to see a point in asking if all he’s going to do is be glared at in return. 

     Instead, he comes up with a solution to cure the awkwardness. “Oh! Hold on a sec...” Lukas quickly reaches into his satchel, shuffling around a bit until he finds his journal. “Okay, so -” he flips a few pages. “Something I can’t help but notice is our communication barrier. You don’t talk, that’s totally okay, but I do, so I figured why not come to a compromise where it’s not me doing all the talking! Because I don’t want everything to be completely one-sided, you know? I’d like to know what you’re thinking too! So…” Lukas opens his journal entirely and offers it out with one hand, his quill in the other. “I was thinking I could do the verbal form of speech and you could do the writing form.” He finishes, giving the Admin the nicest, friendliest and most sincere smile he can muster. 

     Hesitation… Then finally his heart skips and his hopes skyrocket the instant he watches both the journal and his quill lift from his hands. Lukas clasps both his hands together and lays them in his lap as he watches with unwavering amazement at the visual of the items floating freely in the air before falling into the hands of the silent Admin. Lukas stands there holding his breath in anticipation, watching the pages flip without a touch, his eyes flicking between the Admin’s own averted gaze, then back down at the journal. Even the Allay is wide-eyed and intrigued by the gesture, watching by Lukas’ side. 

     The deity’s scowl faces the journal, landing on a page and Lukas swears he might explode from anticipation… all until his hopes are shattered and crushed when the Admin snaps his book shut and flicks his eyes back at him. 

     “W-wait.. No. Nonono..” Lukas takes a few steps forward, making the deity tense and his glowing eyes flare, yet he makes no move to stop the author. Lukas comes to a halt just a few feet away from him. “Please.” He pleads. “I just… Something. Anything. That's all I’m asking.” 

     The deity’s glare narrows on him. Lukas suddenly grows extremely distraught. This was all he had left. He’s exhausted himself trying to come up with ways to go about this. If this doesn’t work… then…

     “I just want to be able to communicate with you. A simple nod yes or no would mean the world to me. Anything. I–” Lukas stops, his distressed gaze dropping to the ground. 

     He doesn’t know what reminds him, but he’s suddenly remembering all of the horrible encounters he’s had in BeaconTown this far. How rude and standoffish everyone seems to be towards him, aside from Radar and Nell of course. These past few days have been some of the worst when it comes to social encounters, and for the very first time in his life, he’s found something he’s grown desperate for information towards. Information that seems so frustratingly out of reach, even as it looms only a few feet away from him. No matter how hard he tries to initiate a positive connection, his efforts are futile.

     He’s discovered something an ecologist of his stature could only ever truly dream of, yet this person, the Admin, seems like he truly wants nothing to do with him. He’s a god. Something far beyond Lukas’ comprehension. The act of standing here in front of him is truly an incomprehensible honor in itself.

     Unless… he is unworthy of receiving the Admin’s verbal or written judgment. He hasn’t exactly made a very good first impression, has he? He’s shown nothing of value to this deity, only that he’s extremely motivated to come back and bother him in his own domain. 

     He finds that the situation is painfully familiar.

     Is this why he doesn’t want to communicate? Because I'm… a nuisance?

     “I…” Lukas takes a few steps back now, then turns away. His voice shakes unevenly as he speaks. “I’ve been going about this all wrong.” His face scrunches up, and he exhales a deep sigh. “I came to BeaconTown to explore its territory and study the biomes here. Never in a million years did I ever think I would be arriving in a town full of such draining negativity. I’ve been to so many cities and towns around the world, hearing from all these different people about how BeaconTown is the best place on earth. How the hero’s who built it from the ground up saved the world and wanted to share in the glory by giving the people the freedom to enjoy the lives we’re so luckily given. ‘A beacon of hope’, some people would call it.” Lukas crosses his arms and shakes his head.

     “But that’s not what it is. I’ve been met with nothing but hostility, that I thought my one escape, the place where I would feel the most comfortable, is here.” He opens his arms to gesture around, turning back to the Admin now. “Is here in the forest. With nature. Away from people. ” Lukas practically hisses the word. “But now, I realize my presence here is nothing but the same to you as it is back in BeaconTown for me. I was… relentless in the way I kept coming back. You saved my life and I was so obsessed with that, and then– then I challenged you, because I was being selfish and only thinking of myself and what I wanted.” His hands then drop again, clenching into fists with frustration towards his own arrogance. “I see now why you don’t want to talk to me. I wouldn’t want to either. I may as well be the same as them back in town.” 

     He hadn’t even thought of how the Admin might have taken his own careless actions. Running around in his forest, acting like he’s got the right to be here. Most forests are public and welcome to all, while there are some that are under heavy restriction due to criminal griefers attempting to hide within them amongst other reasons. This may not be the same case, but the forest is clearly off limits to outsiders. Something Lukas has continuously ignored, too caught up with the need to fill his journals and finish his work to care. 

     Lukas sighs again, hesitantly drawing his gaze back up to the Admin. The man stands still, unmoved since snapping the book shut.

     “I apologize for my behavior. I don’t know what I can do to make it up to you, but I swear my intentions here are only good. S-so please… can I… stay?” 

     ~

     There’s no change in the Admins expression, but the power he exerts lightens up. Lukas has finally admitted what he’s doing, and why he’s doing it. The explosive speech from the day prior matches perfectly with the humbleness and gratitude he shows now. He can see that there is truly more to this human than what he expressed yesterday. He senses no hostility and garners no hard feelings towards Lukas , he simply has no reason to trust him.

     Yet, here they both stand. Lukas is standing just beyond the wildflowers that Admin had bloomed not long ago. He may not trust him just yet, but with these patterns, Lukas has had plenty of time to ruin his sanctuary or to attempt and join in the hunt. 

     Admin looks to the journal, then back to the remorseful author. 

     Then… grants him a small nod. 

     Accepting the apology for what it is while acknowledging and allowing Lukas’ need to explore and study. 

     Lukas is.. different. The Allay seems to enjoy the scholar's presence and the berries he’s brought. That alone is another reason why Admin gives his permission, he trusts the Allay’s judgment. After all, Admin views him as.. harmless. For now. No self respecting hunter would double down so easily, let alone apologize . Hearing him talk, It sounds like Lukas isn't being welcomed with open arms, confirming that BeaconTown has only gotten worse. 

     Strange how it's still hailed as a community welcoming all considering how long it's been. Drawing people like Lukas in, only to spit at the ground he walks on and tell him to leave. Nobody has ever ventured this far with an honest heart, not without joining the forces he’s so passionately against. There was a time that he’d still try to keep an eye on BeaconTown, but as the fireworks stopped and the lights went out.. there was nothing left for him. 

     ~

     The Admin nods, accepting his apology and… initiating the very first communicative response Lukas has been desperate for. The blond stills, shocked and completely taken off guard by the act. This was not the response he was expecting. Lukas lights up instantly, all of the remorse he’d previously been feeling disappearing from his pale features to make room for the excitement that lights up his teal eyes.

     “R-really!? Oh my gosh you mean it!?” Lukas asks with disbelief. Even the Allay is stunned, posing next to Lukas and mimicking his shocked demeanor. 

     The Admin rolls his illuminated eyes at them both, then turns.

      And he rolled his eyes!? This might be Lukas’ lucky day. 

     The journal and quill blink out of the Admin's hands, and instantly Lukas feels the added weight of their presence return to his satchel. The Admin returns to the shadows of the surrounding trees, making no move to look back when he hears a loud “Yesssss!” from the clearing he’s leaving behind him. 

     The Allay chooses to stay with Lukas to the author’s delight. While he and the little spirit celebrate this monumental day of progress, he does still wonder… His hands drop and his gaze looks back to the thicket the Admin disappeared in. The same path Lukas was intending to use to traverse deeper into the woodland. 

     Will he be watching me when I come back? 

     Part of him really hopes so. 

     Coming back to BeaconTown feels almost as incredible as the first time he arrived now that he’s finally made a positive connection with the Admin. For all the other times he’s returned feeling defeated, returning to his room to confront his journals and search for new ideas. This is the first time he’s not looking for new ways to enter the forest or finding ways to get the Admin’s attention. He gained his permission, which means he’s more or less welcome to visit whenever he pleases! 

     He enters through the broken wall just as he usually does every day, avoiding unwanted interactions in town by taking the alleyway to get through the BeacInn’s back door. All is going accordingly, until the author’s arm is grabbed by a strong grip and aggressively turned around. Lukas gasps in shock, immediately clutching at this satchel and holding it close. 

     “I knew it!” 

     Lukas’ wide eyes instinctively narrowed on the man, immediately recognizing him as one of the hunters who accompanied the search party the other night. Lukas scowls at him while looking over his appearance. 

     Super short, choppy brunette hair. Looks quite untidy. A nasty scar on his forehead, as well as his left cheek. He’s got green eyes glaring back at him and a very unpleasant frown to match them. Lukas returns the glare, pulling his arm away from the man and taking a step back. 

     “You keep going back to the forest! Even after Jack told you not to.” The man growls, clenching his fists and baring his teeth. “What do you think you’re doing in there!?” 

     Lukas raises a single eyebrow, giving the man a judgmental look up and down before turning away. “What’s it matter to you?” 

     “What’s it matter to me?” The man takes heavy steps forward, getting far too close for Lukas’ comfort. The author bristles, flashing the hunter with a defiant glare. “You aren’t authorized to enter those woods. Only hunters like me can do that. You’re an outsider.” He scoffs, crossing his arms. “And a stupid one at that.” 

     Lukas is… absolutely astounded by this stranger’s hostility. He’s definitely the same man from before. The one who’d been questioning that Jack fellow. His name… What was his name again? Lukas searches his memory banks whilst the hunter continues. 

     “What’s your problem? Cat got your tongue? You know you aren’t supposed to be in there so give me one good reason why I shouldn’t go and report you to Petra.” 

      Petra?

     That’s a new name.

     “Psh, I’m not scared of your threats.” Lukas rolls his eyes, releasing his satchel and allowing it to lay back down beside his hip. “If you must know, I’m only exploring the forest for my ecological studies.”

     “Ecological studies? What’s that supposed to be? Nerd bullshit?” The hunter steps in closer, causing Lukas’ own uncomfortable expression to strengthen, leaning away. “What have you seen out there?” 

     Lukas backs away again , feeling increasingly more uncomfortable as the seconds pass. “What have I seen? I don’t know, a pine cone or two.” 

     “What else have you seen!” The man practically shouts.

     “Uhh.. Oh! You know I think I saw a bird too.” Lukas smirks and shrugs. 

     “Hah.. Okay.. A smart ass are you?” The man hesitates before he backs off, shaking his head with his own cocky, prideful grin. “Then I guess you won’t mind me bringing this up to the mayor. She’ll make sure your little studies are put to an end real quick. You’ll see.” He fixes Lukas with a spiteful glare one last time before sharply turning away, leaving Lukas alone in the alleyway to stand there and soak in what just happened.

     “What is his problem?” He draws out slowly. 

     After a few seconds of standing still to let his adrenaline die back down, the author sighs and turns away. Lukas decides not to linger and quickly makes his way back into the BeacInn. He quietly greets the front desk girl while he heads up the stairs to his room. 

     His mind is storming, searching his memories of that dark, rainy night. It’s when he gets back to his room and sets his things down and watches while Dewey eats does he stop and remember. 

      Aiden. His name was Aiden.

     That was the name Jack used to refer to him. 

     Lukas scowls at a random spot in his room, thinking about the hunter and his venomous words. There’s no denying it. This Aiden person is going to become a problem. He seems far more ambitious than the other hunter’s, going so far as to search Lukas out. Wait… was he waiting for him to return? He said he knew it, in regards to Lukas going to the forest, so has he been suspicious of him since the beginning? Or did Lukas fail to leave the town without being noticed? 

     The blond is stumped, as well as a little worried.

     Aiden said he’d be reporting his outings to the forest to the mayor. If that’s the case then he’s going to have to come up with plenty of reasonable excuses. 

     So much for that amazing feeling he’d come back with. Now he’s ridden with anxiety. 

     Well… it was only a matter of time.