#nighttime whispers in the echoing woods

[canonical-transformation]

Hold up. Is Andersdotter the witch of the Echoing Woods?

The Witch of the Echoing Woods is implied to escape her own storybook at the end of the artifact set story. (The golden butterflies on the cover are gone.)

She speaks of the story she's in as if she were its author, seeking a home for her characters.

The witch loves her golden butterfly ornaments. On that note, check out the bookshelf next to the Envisaged Echoes painting, and Wolfy's reward chest.

Also butterfly shaped: the book we interact with to enter an Imaginarium Theater battle. The front door. The sofa window.

And of course — and the thing that got me looking in the first place — since very early on, Genshin's artifact sets have given worldbuilding teasers for upcoming or current content. (5.0: early Natlan + Cataclysm-era Natlan. 4.6: early Natlan + Remuria. 4.3: Remuria/Fontaine + fairy tale. 4.0: Remuria + Cataclysm-era Fontaine. 3.6: Narzissekreuz + Khvarena. 3.3: Nabu Malikata + Gurabad. You get the idea.)

...except that 4.3's Nighttime Whispers in the Echoing Woods seems to be the same kind of standalone as Moonlit Bamboo Forest. Given that Andersdotter was to feature heavily in 4.7 and 4.8, this seems like the most plausible connection.

[aomiiine]

KINKTOBER (1) : BRAHMS!BAJI ─── ໒꒰ྀི っ ⸝⸝ ˂ ꒱ྀིა you’ve been hired to take care of the child of a wealthy old couple who live in a mansion out in the outskirts of the city. thinking it would be easy money, you accepted the job w/o doing a background check. it comes to you later on that their child isn’t exactly a ‘child’ or ‘doll’.

warning(s) : fem!reader, dc/nsfw, mdni — unpredictable baji, reader gets into the whole ‘caretaker’ situation, implied stalking, quickened plot, dubcon moments, switch!baji, manhandling, he’s a lil psycho, touch deprived baji, breath play, ch0king, hand job, mild degradation(slut, etc.), unprotected sex, not proofread, wc is 4.0k

𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈 : my first entry for my kinktober!! Excited & scared omg — kinktober m.list + tags: @ljubimaya

You’ve been alone in this awfully large mansion for 5 days now. The owner left the day after they taught you how to care for their son.

Or porcelain doll, as you saw it.

But you weren’t allowed to call it that so you called it its given name instead—Baji. For the sake of the job, you did it despite the creepiness it gave you.

Hours passed and it was nighttime at wherever the fuck you were out in the woods. You’ve checked your phone every 10 minutes, hoping to see a text from the owners that left you alone out of the blue. The result of your curiosity was always the same—silence. Still.

“The hell..,” you mumbled, frowning at your phone’s empty home screen, not a single notification from the elderly couple. With a sigh, you closed your device and tossed it aside on the dining table, turning your head over your shoulder to see ‘Baji’ comfortably settled to sit on the armchair placed specially for him.

Creepy lil’ shit, you huffed in your mind, the corner of your lips tugging downwards, close to scowling at the innocent looking porcelain doll.

You got up, finding the silence within the entire residence unsettling and grabbing onto Baji impatiently, carrying him to your shoulder like a child.

The hallway echoed with your footsteps, dim lights illuminating the second floor. You were in a hurry to bring Baji to bed, not wanting to be in his presence any longer after an exhausting day of caring for him with odd occurrences in broad daylight earlier unsettling you more than you already were.

“Alright, Baji, sweetheart. Time to put you to bed,” you mused sweetly, pulling off the blanket and slowly laying down the heavy doll onto the mattress. You tucked him under the blanket once more, nestling the soft fabric snugly under his arms.

“Good night, Baji,” was all you whispered before standing up straight again, patting the bed twice and turning your heels to leave the room. With one final lingering glance on the laid and tucked doll, you stepped out and closed the door behind you.

You leaned against the hard wood door for a moment, your shoulders slumping as if a heavy burden was finally lifted off of them. Wary eyes of yours scanned the hallways around you, the silence and eeriness making your skin crawl.

However, the few moments after you pushed yourself off the door to walked down the hallway, audible steps made themselves present, the rough yet subtle sound making you halt and snap your head to the side. To your ears, the noise was coming from the walls right beside you, the opposite side of Baji’s bedroom.

Hairs at your nape raise.

You could call this occurrence normal now after it kept on going consistently during your stay here with the elder couple and alone. Despite the concerns you’ve expressed to them, they brushed it off carelessly as mice crawling in house. However, that didn’t assure you at all.

A moment passes, and you turn ahead of you again once the noise stopped, ignoring the swarm of possibilities that filled your mind. Yet, as you kept on walking, the audible stomping came alive again, longer this time. As if it was following you.

Paranoia taking over your nerves, you made a 180 and marched back to Baji’s bedroom, swinging the door open to see the lights closed and the porcelain doll snug in bed—just like you left him.

Taking slow steps closer to the bed, your hand reached out tentatively to touch the shoulder of the unmoving doll, its eyes staring up wide to the ceiling above. You took in a shaky breath, lips parted now closed to swallow your heart back down to your chest.

Slam.

Your entire body jumps and twists to look over behind you—seeing nothing but darkness now the door was mysteriously slammed shut.

“Oh, fuck, what the fuck,” you mumbled in panic, eyes frantically darting between ‘Baji’ and the door. Frozen legs of yours finally moved, sprinting over to the door to turn the knob and yank the heavy wood open.

“Why won’t this damn door fucking budge!” You exclaimed in a hissed whisper, breath short as if something stole your breath away. It wasn’t even fucking locked, the knob clearly showed it was open—then who the fuck was holding it from opening?

Thud.

Your entire being stilled. You weren’t alone.

You backed away from the door with a few steps, fearful gaze flickering downwards to see the other side illuminated with light—but with a shadow at the centre. Someone was behind the door.

You brought a trembling hand up to your mouth, covering your quivering lips.

A paper note slips past the gap under the door. You stared at it for a second, contemplating whether or not to take it.

Ultimately, you bent down to quickly pick up the paper, bringing it up closer to your face read it better in the dark room you were in.

��You forgot something’

What the fuck? you cursed in your mind. You stood there, eyes fixating on the message written on the paper, mind scattering to figure out what you could have possibly forgotten that might be related to the situation you were in.

Then it hit you.

Kiss.

A stupid midnight kiss.

You were told to kiss Baji good night when it was bedtime when the owners were still here. You grumbled internally, who could have possibly remembered that ridiculous fucking long list of rules to take care of a damn doll?

“Fine—I’ll do it,” you conceded, albeit reluctantly.

You turned to face the bed ‘Baji’ was laid on and walked closer, noting the glimmer of moonlight reflecting on the porcelain cheek of the delicate thing. With a few deep breaths, you leaned down, hand lifting to tuck strands of your hair behind your ear as your lips approached the cheek of the unmoving thing.

Done, you thought, hoping whatever you did just soothed the person behind outside. However, your hopes were crushed to ashes the second you heard the door creak open slowly behind when you were about to straighten up, pulling away from the doll.

Heavy steps approached you from behind, the mere presence of the person making your entire nervous system shut down, unable to move a single limb out of fear.

Thump, thump, thump, thump. Then nothing.

The silence was sinister, so fucking sinister, especially now he was behind you—for fucks sake, you could feel him breath down your neck, hear his ragged intakes of air.

Your entire body trembled, hands clenching one another and eyes darting from left to right, not having the guts to turn around and face the man who was probably responsible for all the fucking noises you heard in the mansion. But then, if he was responsible for the noises in the walls, could have he been watching you too? Hell, your cheeks flared up at the mere thought of it—of a man stalking you from the walls, watching your every move, witnessing you undress and maybe even bathe.

“What do you want from me?” you muttered, lips quivering more than you could control and words coming out shakier than intended. Despite the fear, the curiosity, you stood still. Unmoving.

But instead of hearing a response from him, you heard him move again.

Your breath hitched in your throat as he stepped beside you, a glimpse of him turning to a whole image of a man unkempt, yet well built. His black hair was luscious and long, generous strands falling over his shoulders. You kept your eyes trailed on him, watching him go ahead of you to sit on the edge of the bed, inches away from the laying doll.

“Kiss,” he spoke, his words coming almost as a grumble with how gravelly his voice was that muffled softly in the mask he was wearing. It looked weird too. White as porcelain.

“I already kissed Baji goodnight,” you stuttered, looking at him with fear glazed eyes, trying to fix this ‘misunderstanding’.

“This thing,” he quickly retorted, emphasising his words by grabbing onto the neck of the doll, lifting it up with a tight grip and throwing it off the bed, the strength of his swing making it hit and shatter against the wall. “isn’t Baji,” he finished with a growl.

“I am,” he added, head turning to look up at you, his breath heavy against the mask he wore.

You held in your breath at the reveal, your eyes fluttering closed as you glanced away, lips quivering.

It made sense. Considering all the information you got during your stay here from the remaining staff, from the photos and books you read through once the owners left. They all had one thing in common to tell you—Baji was real. And his birth date was way too far off from now for him to be a child.

“You know what to do. Right?” Baji’s voice broke you out of your trance, making your eyes flicker open once more to look at him.

He was expecting something. And you knew what it was.

“Alright,” you whispered beneath your breath, head nodding nervously once you understood what he meant, what he wanted.

You took hesitant steps closer to him, standing close between his spread legs now. You steadied your breath for a moment before leaning in closer to him, eyes blinking anxiously as you made your way to plant a kiss to his cheek.

Yet before your lips made contact to the mask, his larger hand made contact with your arm, his grip firm yet not painful. Baji pulled you onto his lap in one swift motion, forcing you to shift to stabilise yourself on his thighs, your hands flying to his shoulders on instinct.

Realising the placement of your hands and his own, you lifted your head to look up at him with wide eyes, lips gaping open to utter an apology.

“Go on,” he ordered before your voice could leave your throat.

You nodded, disregarding the awfully close proximity between you two. You knew better than to question or deny it, wanting to stay alive and unscathed.

Baji’s breath behind the mask was audible and stable even as you leaned in close, his body as still as a statue when you finally kissed the cheek of his mask. But you could faintly hear the soft grunt he made when you pulled away, the sound akin to a whine.

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but be curious of the man, his story, and more importantly, his intentions on having you so unnecessarily close. The fear you felt earlier melted to a burning desire to explore, to curiosity—and perhaps arousal.

Baji was much larger than yourself, it was something you noted the moment he pulled you on him. The silence between you kept you on your toes but it didn’t bother you much—not when you were focusing on the feeling of his wide shoulders you were currently holding onto.

“You’re a handsy one, aren’t ya,” Baji commented suddenly, catching your attention. You glanced up into his eyes and shied away for a moment when you realised he was observing you so closely, embarrassed that you got carried away in such a crucial moment where your life could be at risk.

“All the other caretakers clamp up like fucking cowards the moment they see me. And here you are, feeling me up like a shameless, helpless, little girl like I can’t just crush your skull in a blink of an eye,” he continued, recalling all the other encounters he had with the past caretakers his parents hired. They always had the same look on their faces—nothing but fear, disgust and tears. It was probably the reason he killed them all. To see another expression on their faces.

But you were different. He noticed the little widen of your eyes when you saw him staring at you. And the subtle yet comprehensible flustered look you made right after he caught you was something that he couldn’t help but find ‘cute’.

“It’s almost pathetic, your behaviour,” he deemed, his intense gaze hardening at you out of nowhere. His mind tried to rationalise your behaviour. You were probably acting like this to get on his good side, so he would spare you. He almost certain that was the reason for your behaviour—selfish and self-centred, like the rest of them.

Your brows furrowed at his accusations, your head tilting at him in curiosity. What did he mean? What did you do? What behaviour?

“Behaviour?” you muttered questioningly, your fingers on his now tense shoulders wincing as you were about to pull away your right hand. Before your palm could lift off him though, he stopped you with a tight grip on your forearm.

“You wanna live don’t you?,” he growled lowly, grasp on you loosening slightly.

You hissed a breath, nodding firmly, making it clear you wanted to keep your soul intact.

“Show me how desperate you are. Then maybe, just maybe, I’ll let you go.”

“Desperate?” You queried, confused at what he meant by showing him your ‘desperation’.

“You’ll do whatever I say, whenever I say it. No is not an option.” He answered, hand around your arm tightening to the point of pain that made you yelp and squirm on his lap. He inched in closer to you, head dipping to your face.

“Besides—you’re my caretaker, aren’t you?” He whispered lowly for your ears alone, hand twisting your delicate limb hard to enough ensure bruises coloured your skin.

“I—I am but—” you protested, your whimpers awfully quiet to truly be ‘protesting’. Your body shifted and writhed on his firm thighs, legs moving to straddle him better despite yourself. You kept on doing so until your hips ventured too close to his crotch, feeling the bulge that had formed in his pants. You didn’t realise your squirming from earlier had affected him so, nor did you think that your touches on his body contributed to his evident hard-on.

“And as my caretaker, you’re obliged to tend to my needs. So take care of the problem you caused,” Baji demanded, his gravelly voice slightly breathless now from the grinding you were unintentionally doing against him. He squeezed your stinging forearm one last time before letting go of you, leaning away a bit with his eyes fixated on you still, waiting for you to do your ‘job’.

You looked at his masked face for a second before flickering your gaze down to the sight of your hips meeting his, rocking yourself subtly to nudge to tent in his pants teasingly, earning yourself a heavy breath from Baji.

Thinking about your choices, obey or die, it was obvious which you were gonna pick. Besides, his orders weren’t gonna too bad, right?

Mustering up enough courage inside you, your hands moved to hold onto his shoulders again, the leverage helping you move on him more.

It was humiliating, really. To have him do nothing but watch you grind and hump on his clothed cock so attentively. It didn’t take long for you to feel the need clump up into a knot in your lower belly, the ache in your pussy pleading for more friction.

So you obeyed both yourself and him, hand slipping down to the fly of his pants, unzipping and tugging it downwards to release his hard cock from its confinement. His girthy length sprung out, fitting into your hand quickly after. Your fingers wrapped around the shaft, tracing the veins slowly until you reached his leaking tip, gathering the beads of precum and smearing it all over his flamed flesh.

The reaction you got out of him from the mere contact sent shivers down your spine, shivers of unexpected pleasure. This man who scared the life out of you, threatened to kill you and had you earn his mercy, was whining for you. It was faint, but you could definitely hear it from behind the mask. His body betrayed him too. Hips jerking up to meet your hand, as if silently pleading for you touch him more. But he didn’t say anything, letting you handle the situation as you saw fit.

”Fuckk,” you heard him whine breathlessly. Your focus remained on his cock that you held in your hand but you knew damn well how he was practically throwing his head back grudgingly now that you’ve started to stroke him, coaxing his blood to rush southwards.

Your lips parted at the sight of the mess he made on your palm, now slick with precum that kept on flowing. Your own breath hitched, unable to resist the urge to play around a bit more.

Your hand circled around his member and nestled to the base before you massaged his cock with a flick of your wrist, starting off slow as you made your way along the shaft till the angry tip. It was getting more obvious how he was pulsing against your fingers, the sensation making your cunt clench around air at the mere thought of him being inside you.

As seconds turned to minutes, his small hitches turned to pants. His chest was heaving, hips bucking into your smaller hand that attempted to fit his entire girth around your fingers. When your pace finally quickened, he could feel his the churning in his balls, drawing up and tightening along with the grip his hands hand on the sheets on the bed.

And you saw it all, noticed it all, but you made no effort to stop, eager to see and hear more of him until he reaches his climax. How could you stop when he was groaning and moaning incoherent profanities behind the mask, head leaned back just enough to show you the sweat that trickled past his mask and down his neck, his adam’s apple bobbing nervously?

The wet sound your hand produced from jerking him filled the dimly lit bedroom along with the lewd noises that came from Baji. The often twitches his hips made were enough to tell you he was inches away from release, and you were more than willing to give it to him.

“Oh, shit— feel’s so fuckin’ good,” the bigger man cried out, hips thrusting into your hand one last time before stilling and spilling his load all over your hand, some ropy spurts landing on your clothes. Your chest heaved nearly as heavy as his, as if you were the one cumming all over the place right now.

His cock pulsed one last time before calming, your halted hand squeezing his sensitive length once more to watch the final drops of cum leave his slit. Then, you withdrew your hand from him, letting his semi-hard cock rest on his pelvis as he caught his breath.

“Not enough.. not even close to enough. Need more, need your fucking pussy,” he panted, breath ragged behind the white mask he wore to conceal his face that was no doubt, twisted in pleasure.

Baji’s hand shot out to grab ahold on your hip, pulling close with a rough tug. His other hand moved swiftly to hook his fingers under the waistband of your leggings, pulling it down in an impatient motion to expose your bare thighs and clothed pussy, the wet patch on your panties catching his eye before anything.

“Knew you’d get wet from this, stupid’ slut. Seeing me cum got you off, huh? Now it’s your turn to get me off by creaming all over my cock,” he grunted, voice raspy and hoarse from the reluctant moans he voiced out earlier. His hand remained planted tightly on your hip, the other shifting quickly to simply slip your panties to the side, making no effort to take it off.

You whimpered at the sudden change of his demeanour, not missing the crazed look in his bronze eyes. Except they weren’t crazed for blood—they were crazed for your pussy.

Baji’s free hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it once then twice until it was hard and ready again. He aligned his tip against your slit that hovered above him, the subtle graze on your pulsating clit and the warm precum mixing with your own juices making you desperate than ever.

His hand on your hip pulled you down onto his cock in one swift motion, his girth penetrating your entrance affecting the both of you. Baji drew out a long groan, your walls clenching around him almost immediately. And you moaned out a cry, eyes threatening to roll back from how full you felt from his cock alone, your nectar overflowing enough to not make penetration hurt too much.

Baji didn’t spare any time to let you adjust to the intrusion, forcing you to move up and down his cock with the leverage he had on your hip. You followed his rhythm grudgingly, not wanting his grip to tighten to the point of pain if you resisted. Even so, Baji was unsatisfied, wanting to have you fuck him even faster. So he moved his free hand up to your chest, slipping his calloused fingers around your delicate neck.

“Fuck, you milking me so good, baby.. Slutty pussy of yours made for me,” he grunted, his snapping up to meet yours, using more strength to hold your neck. Your hands threw around without true direction, one clawing onto his arm that he used to wrap around your neck, the other digging your nails mindlessly onto his shoulder.

Tears began to swell in your eyes as your moans began to choke up in your throat, Baji’s thick fingers pressing the sides of your neck strategically to restrict your airways, the lack of oxygen making you feel lightheaded and so much more sensitive to the merciless thrusts his cock made into you. You could barely mutter his name, or utter any coherent words for the few long seconds he deprived you from oxygen, though your wet pussy spoke for you in return.

“Dirty bitch—squeeze ‘round me just like that, yeah? Gonna fill you up soon, so fucking soon,” he promised, using and handling your body like a damn fleshlight that was good for nothing but his own pleasure, and fuck did you please him good. His fingers around your neck left welts that would probably stay for few days along with the marks he made on your hip, his cock bullying your cervix with each deep unforgiving thrusts he made, the sound of wet skin slapping against one another filling the room once more.

It went on repeatedly on and on, until he reached a breaking point where the knot in his loin held on its final thread, one final motion to sheath his pulsing cock into your depths contributing to its result to snap. His voice grew louder in volume once he came again, semen spewing in heavy, thick ropes to paint your once velvety walls white. His own orgasm triggered yours, the heat in your lower tummy overwhelming you the moment he filled you up as promised, his cum soon mixing with your own cum that coated his cock, the fluid dripping to his base and trickling down his tightened balls.

“Oh, lord—fuck me,” you murmured between your pants, Baji’s hand around your neck finally loosening and soon withdrawing. Your body twitched from the immense pleasure, twitching and slumping against him soon enough. Baji caught you in his arms, his own breaths ragged and uneven from exertion, his body as sensitive and as weak as yours at the moment. At some point, Baji eventually laid back on the bed, big arms engulfing you in a firm embrace as he tried to calm himself down with you.

“Can I leave safely now?” You muttered against his chest after a long period of silence passed, your breaths back to normal.

“Who said anything about leaving?” Baji rasped through the mask, his exhaustion undetected whatsoever in his voice. Your body tensed in his arms, eyes widening in fear as you felt a familiar gaze heady with malicious intent glaring holes above your head.

[mrs-johnson]

“Under the Wild Moon”

Sergei ‘Kraven’ Kravinoff x Female Reader

Warnings: Nighttime Forest Proposal | Soft, Romantic, Domestic Fluff

Summary: Where Kraven takes you on one of his favorite nighttime walks — and ends the evening with a surprise that changes both your lives forever.

It was just after twilight when Kraven laced his fingers through yours and whispered,

“Come with me.”

The sky was still glowing—soft purples fading into navy, the last gold of sunset tucked just below the trees. Fireflies had begun to blink lazily in the bushes as he guided you barefoot through the soft forest path.

You loved these night walks with him.

There was something peaceful about being out here with Kraven. He moved like he was made for the woods—silent, certain, grounded. But he never walked too far ahead. His steps always matched yours, even when you paused to admire a mushroom, or picked up a fallen feather.

“Why do I feel like you’re up to something?” you teased, bumping your shoulder against his.

He glanced sideways, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You are suspicious.”

“You are sneaky.”

“I am quiet. There is a difference.”

You laughed, and the sound echoed lightly between the trees.

Eventually, you reached the clearing.

You recognized it immediately. A wide, soft patch of moss where the stars were always brightest—where he once confessed to you that, as a child, he dreamed of turning into the moon just so he’d never have to leave the night sky.

You loved that story.

And tonight, the clearing looked… different.

Soft lanterns hung from low branches. A thick blanket was laid out on the moss. There were snacks. Tea. Candles.

You stopped in your tracks.

“Sergei…”

He said nothing at first. Just reached up and carefully tucked a small white flower behind your ear.

“I used to believe,” he said slowly, “that I didn’t deserve peace. Or softness. Or you.”

You swallowed, heart suddenly fluttering.

“But I was wrong,” he continued. “You make this world—this wild, terrible world—feel like home. Like something I would fight for… not because I have to, but because you’re in it.”

Your eyes were already glassy.

He took both your hands, slowly lowering to one knee.

“I want to walk beside you,” he said softly. “Through storms. Through woods. Through the quiet and the dark. Will you be my mate, my partner, my wife?”

He opened his hand, revealing a simple, beautiful ring made of braided silver and a tiny stone that glimmered like starlight.

Tears spilled down your cheeks.

“Yes,” you breathed, throwing your arms around his neck. “Yes, yes—Sergei—yes.”

He held you tightly, his nose buried in your shoulder, arms trembling just slightly around you.

And when he finally slipped the ring on your finger, he kissed your hand reverently.

Then your forehead.

Then your lips.

The stars overhead blinked a little brighter.

And in that sacred forest, the hunter and his love began the first step toward forever—together.

[strawberrybunnystuff]

𝙉𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙛𝙩. 𝙇𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙮𝙡𝙚

Synopsis: It's nighttime at Murkoff Corporation. You're lying in your room, unable to sleep, you just stare at the ceiling until you hear the heavy footsteps of a boot approaching your room.

TW: Content intended for adult audiences; +18; mentions of male intimate parts; Female Character.

୨♡୧

You are jolted out of your reverie when you hear heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway. The rhythmic sound of boots hitting the floor echoes in the silence of the room, making your attention sharpen.

Even lying down, your eyes drift to the door. The dim light from the hallway casts a tall, familiar shadow against the wood. Someone is standing there.

Then, a low, mocking chuckle escapes the figure standing in the doorway.

"So restless, huh, sweetie? Or were you waiting for me?"

You immediately recognize the male voice. Leland Coyle, the police officer.

As if being haunted by your own insomnia every night wasn't enough, now you'd also have to deal with one of those damned human experiments from Murkoff.

You take a deep breath, deciding to ignore him, hoping that Leland would just go away. But of course, that only seems to make him even more interested in bothering you for the rest of the night.

"Ignore me? Geez, sweetie... I thought you'd learned by now that I'm not the type to be left aside so easily. Or are you giving me a challenge?"

You take a deep breath, still determined to ignore him.

"He'll get tired of this at some point and leave."

That's what you thought. But not even in your worst-case scenario would you have imagined how motivated he was tonight to get on your nerves.

"Oh, I see... You're trying to resist me. How cute."

He takes a step forward, leaning his shoulder against the door.

"But what if I told you that I'm starting to like this game, huh, sweetie?"

Finally, your patience runs out completely, and you decide to respond in kind, without even trying to hide the mocking tone in your voice.

"Seriously? Do you REALLY need that much attention, Coyle? What's wrong, are you needy? No one to play cop with you today?"

For a moment, the room is plunged into a cold, dense silence. No sarcastic retort, no provocation from Leland. Just the unsettling vacuum of wordlessness.

The sudden silence sends a shiver down your spine. Did you catch him off guard? Hurt his ego? Or... did you do exactly what he wanted?

Then a laugh cuts through the air—low, mocking, almost devilish.

Leland begins to move. You hear his slow, measured footsteps, feeling the pressure in the air change as he walks through the door without hesitation. He advances unhurriedly, each step deepening the tension in the room, until he stops right in front of you.

Your prone figure is now completely at his mercy.

"Oh, but of course I need attention."

Your breath hitches for a second as his voice sounds lower, firmer... and much closer.

Leland leans in slowly, closing the distance between you even further.

"And yes, sweetie... I'm needy."

The heat from his body becomes impossible to ignore. His chest rises and falls slowly, as if he's savoring every second of the tension building in the air.

"And no... I don't have anyone to play 'policeman' with me today."

The last sentence slips from his lips in a teasing whisper, sending a shiver through every inch of your body.

He's so close.

His hot, heavy breath hits your skin, sending waves of heat down your spine. Your fingers tremble slightly on the mattress, a strange tingling spreads across your chest, and your body feels torn between tension and a dangerous urge to move toward him.

Your heart hammers against your ribs, to the point of pain. You feel goosebumps on your skin wherever his gaze passes – as if you can already feel his touch without him even touching you.

And Leland? He notices.

And he seems to be enjoying it.

"You should leave..."

Your voice comes out lower than you expected, almost like a whisper.

Your eyes remain fixed on Leland's... or rather, on the sunglasses that hide his gaze from you. The lack of direct eye contact only makes everything even more disconcerting. You can't decipher what he's thinking, can't predict his next move.

"Oh, sweetie... How inhospitable." He lets out a dramatic sigh, tilting his head slightly. "Aren't you really going to invite me to lie down with you? After a whole day of walking, my legs are begging for a rest."

His voice drips with that provocative tone, loaded with intent.

Before you can even retort, Leland steps forward. You feel a rush of surprise, and before you can react, he’s already climbing onto the bed. The agility with which he moves, combined with the lack of any hesitation, leaves you speechless. He lies down next to you with an almost defiant calm, as if he already knows the impact he’s going to make.

Before you could even fully process the fact that Leland had laid down next to you, he acts quickly. With his strong hands, he easily pulls you up and lifts you, placing you on his sturdy legs, leaving no room for any reaction. The strength with which he does it surprises you, making you feel his power, and at the same time, a growing tension in the air.

His thick, heavy hands are now firmly positioned on either side of your waist, making your body become aware of every touch, every pressure. You feel the tension increase, and your thoughts begin to get jumbled, your feelings becoming more and more evident. He can feel it all.

"What do you want from me..."

Your voice comes out almost without wanting to, as if you can no longer hold the words back. Your answer comes before you can even reconsider.

Leland watches your every move, and it's clear that he's enjoying the situation.

"I want to play 'policeman' with you, like you suggested."

The sarcastic tone in his words is almost palpable, and you can hear the smile he hides behind them. He’s not just teasing—he’s enjoying every second of it.

You feel a heat rising in your body. Your breathing becomes faster, your senses heightened, and Leland notices it all. He notices how your posture changes, how your body responds.

"And it looks like you want to play with me too."

His voice deepens, becomes more intimidating, as he steps even closer. His gaze is fixed on you, and you can tell he can sense the excitement evident in your movements.

"It's simple, you see? I'm the authority here. You'll follow my orders without question. If you're good and behave, I might even reward you. Do you understand?"

Leland's voice is commanding, almost hypnotic, making each word stick in your mind. His authority overflows from each syllable, and there's an intensity that makes you question whether you have the courage to challenge it.

You're momentarily shocked by what you've just heard. Your mind seems to spin with his words, and the impact of them leaves you speechless for a second. But in the end, you nod in affirmation, an almost automatic yes, feeling an unexpected heat rise through your body.

You hear the deep, drawn-out laugh that comes from Leland's deep throat, echoing like a warning of what's to come. His fingers tighten against your poor hip, intentionally slow, and you feel the muscles in your stomach tighten. Not out of fear, but excitement of what's to come.

"Good girl," he growls, his voice a sharp razor against your skin. "Now that you're so obedient...how about proving that you deserve to stay here?" One of his heavy hands comes down to your wrist, squeezing. "First order from your superior..." Leland leans forward, his lips almost touching your ear, his warm breath making you shiver. "I want those soft little hands unbuckling my belt...very slowly. And if you mess up?" His teeth clench against your earlobe, the calculated tug. "I'll teach you again. Until you learn it right."

His fingers hesitated for a second, just one, but it was enough for him to growl low, his fingers tightening around your waist as a warning. You knew exactly who you were dealing with: a sadistic, impatient man who could turn into an executioner at any moment.

But then...

Something inside you trembled, a desire that was buried under layers of fear and logic. This was your chance. The only person in that hell who looked at you as something more than just an object and now he was ordering you to do exactly what you had always secretly wanted to do.

Your heart was beating so hard that you almost didn’t hear the sound of the belt being unbuckled, but he heard it. The smell of aged leather mixed with sweat invaded your nostrils like a hallucinatory drug.

Your fingers trembled not from fear but from anticipation.

The first click of the metal loosening echoed in the room. Leland held his breath, he hadn’t expected you to be so fast. You felt the muscles in his thighs contract beneath you. Like a beast ready to pounce.

“That’s it…good girl,” he murmured, his voice so needy. “Now pull.”

So when your hands finally pull his belt all the way down, the fabric of his underwear barely manages to contain his cock that was about to escape. You feel it before you even see it: the heat, the excitement and the violent throb of his cock against your palm as your fingers accidentally meet the damp and sticky fabric of his underwear.

He laughs, a husky and addictive sound to your ears, as your breath catches.

"Are you scared, sweetie?" His hand grabs your chin forcing you to look down. "Or is this what makes you embarrassed?" Leland rubs his still covered cock against your still hand, and you gasp.

God, he was so hot!

You dare to slide your hand inside his underwear, feeling the brutal heat of Leland's skin. He sighs, like an animalistic, guttural growl that comes from somewhere deep in his chest when your hand finally wraps around his cock.

You shiver, not out of fear anymore but out of pure shock. Was that his big cock hiding under that predatory posture? Was that his cock he wanted you to control?!

Leland is amused by your startled reaction, then he leans in close to your ear.

"Now you get it, huh, sweetie?" His big hand grabs your wrist, forcing you to squeeze it tighter. "This thing grows with those who deserve it."

You could feel your pussy start to get wet in your own panties. The last sentence that came out of his mouth only motivated you to go deeper, deep exactly where you wanted to go.

You couldn't wait any longer. Your hand practically flies over the hem of his underwear and pulls it down.

And then his cock appeared right in front of your eyes. It was swollen, reddish and so tense that it seemed to already be throbbing against your hand.

It wasn't just its size that made you feel completely disturbed, it was the way it pulsed like an exposed heart, there were many veins around it, pre-cum already accumulated at its tip.

He was as into this as you were.

He didn't help you.

He just watched you with his dark eyes burning into your face as you swallowed hard. His smile was cruel, but his rapid breathing betrayed his self-control.

Your heart pounded so hard that you almost didn't hear your moan before he sank into your mouth. The taste was salty, hot, literally what you imagined Leland would taste like down there. But you had to hold your breath quickly when he practically pushed your head down onto his cock.

His tip hit the back of your throat. This wasn't just a service anymore, it was silent revenge. Every movement your tongue made around him, on the head, every deep suck, was proof that Leland, Murkoff's monster, was now writhing so erotically for you.

୨♡୧

I was too lazy to finish...

[undiscovered-horizon]

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

[Just a sunny afternoon with bear Halsin. What more can a heart desire?]

Halsin claims that sleeping in his bear form provides better rest. Whether that is true or not, you have no way to know. But no matter what the truth is, the druid comes out the winner anyway: he's lightly napping, drifting in and out of slumber, while you're leaning against him.

For the past week, it's been raining on and off. Cold wind nipped at your skin, even sneaking its way into your tent and making sure you shuddered uncomfortably for an hour or two before finally falling asleep. Nighttime storms left you carrying drenched clothes for long hours.

But today, the weather is exceptionally nice. Warm sunlight is peeking through the crowns of the tall trees. Wind, much gentler than for the past few days, is only strong enough to make long blades of grass sway from side to side. Even birds seem to enjoy the change - their melodic songs are carried by the forest's echo.

Halsin and you have decided to spend your day off from travelling in a small gathering. Although your companions-turned-friends are a delightful bunch, the rather crowded camp doesn't allow much liberty in terms of intimacy. Not to mention the sheer noise of so many people going about their day, cramped in one place...

The woods are as silent as nature can be - filled with rustling, birdsong, chirping and chirring. It's the whispering of nature, Silvanus himself enjoying the chatter of his creations. On days as pleasant as today, it wouldn't be too far-fetched to think that he's wandering among the trees, checking in on things, so to speak.

Your back is leaning against Halsin's massive bear frame. With each of his sleepy, shallow breaths, your entire body is moving along them. Every now and then, he lets out a snore and you can't help the loving smile curling your lips. When was the last time he was allowed so much peace?

Dry paper rustles as you turn over the page. Your voice resounds in this part of the woods as you continue reading aloud the book you found just a few days ago. It's a typical, run-of-the-mill court drama but written well enough to have you thinking about something other than the rather unwelcome guest squirming inside your skull.

But the tale of prudish ladies and cunning servants is suddenly brought to a halt as you yawn and stretch your arms. It's been at least an hour or two since Halsin and you have sat down.

The bear underneath you opens one of his eyes curiously. His careful gaze studies your visibly tired face.

"Lay with me, my heart," he says in a groggy voice. There is nothing pressuring about his tone but you feel so enticed to fulfil his words that you don't have the mind to argue against.

Soon you find yourself lying on the ground, cuddled into the side of a bear. Which, by itself, sounds quite funny. And you do chuckle quietly but not because you find the situation humours - no, it's the all-consuming cosiness that makes you uncharacteristically giddy. His fur is thick and soft, as though a moment of distraction could cause you to fall into him.

Halsin, consciously or not, shift his bear body to engulf you a little more. Although a frame of that size is awkward to manoeuvre, he tries to fit his body around your curled-up physique. If it wasn't for the absolutely crushing weight of his wildshape form, Halsin would probably lay himself on top of you to satiate his desire to take care of you.

For the first time in long weeks, snuggled up to a snoring bear, you feel content and safe.

___

I have thought about having a nap with bear Halsin like two weeks ago and that thought has not left ever since. Actually, I think it's already built a house in my head.

[sabrinajenre96]

Episode Seven ~Camp Chaos & Royal Decrees”

Michael Robinavitch x wife reader x menace kids

Warning ⚠️: Adventure in the nature and Spencer...I guess

Y/N stared at the open trunk of the SUV, hands on her hips.

“Did we really need to bring everything?”

Michael slung the tent bag over his shoulder. “I’d rather overpack than hear Spencer scream because her ‘Royal Marshmallow Wand’ didn’t make it.”

Behind them, Spencer spun in a circle wearing her sparkly pink jacket, a tiara, and hiking boots. “Rainbow Queens never rough it. We glamp.”

Alex hopped out with a backpack labeled “TRAP SUPPLIES — DO NOT TOUCH.”

Sawyer dragged herself out of the car, hoodie up, crutches under her arms, earbuds already in. “No Wi-Fi. No signal. No reason to live.”

Y/N muttered to Michael, “We’re going to die out here.”

---

Campsite: Hour One

Setting up the tent was supposed to take fifteen minutes. It took an hour, mostly because Spencer decided the forest needed a “unicorn stable” and convinced Michael to make a separate mini tent for her and Kojo.

Alex built a “defensive perimeter” out of sticks, duct tape, and rope. Michael tripped over it twice.

Sawyer tried to charge her phone with a solar panel. It powered exactly 3% and shorted out.

“Great,” she muttered. “I have enough juice to send one final text: my parents dragged me into the woods to die. Send help.”

---

Campsite: Nighttime

Y/N finally managed to toast s’mores with all three kids around the fire.

Alex's marshmallow caught fire.

Spencer declared hers a “Sacred Royal Dessert” and made Kojo “bow before the gooey offering.”

Sawyer rolled her eyes so hard it was audible.

But for five minutes… it was peaceful.

Then Spencer announced: “WE NEED A CAMPFIRE PLAY!”

Alex immediately stood up. “I’ll be the forest monster! And Sawyer’s the lost teen who gets eaten!”

“No,” Sawyer said flatly. “Absolutely not.”

“I’LL BE THE QUEEN!” Spencer added.

“You always make yourself the queen,” Alex muttered.

“Because I’m in charge.”

“No, I’m in charge!” Alex shouted, grabbing a stick.

Kojo barked.

Michael and Y/N stared into the flames.

“I give it three more minutes,” Y/N said.

“Two,” Michael replied.

---

Later That Night

Michael and Y/N finally retreated to their tent after wrangling all three kids into their sleeping bags. Kojo curled protectively around Spencer like her furry bodyguard. Alex fell asleep reading Monster Traps Monthly, and Sawyer muttered curses at her dead phone until she passed out.

The couple finally laid down, wrapped in a sleeping bag, silence stretching between them.

“This might’ve been a mistake,” Y/N whispered.

Michael smiled. “Best mistake we ever made.”

“Even the unicorn queen?”

He snorted. “Especially her.”

Just as they leaned in for a much-needed moment…

Spencer’s voice echoed across the campsite:

“MOMMY! DADDY! THERE’S A SQUIRREL IN THE UNICORN TENT AND I THINK HE’S POSSESSED!”

Kojo barked like the apocalypse was coming.

Alex yelled, “GET THE TRAPS!”

Sawyer shouted, “OH MY GOD, I AM NEVER CAMPING AGAIN!”

Y/N sighed and zipped up the tent flap. “We’re never having sex in nature, are we?”

Michael kissed her temple. “Nope. But at least we’ll die together.”

[thedarkcknight]

Day 24 Christmas Eve (The Kratt Brothers)

Y/N'S POV

Christmas Eve had always held a magical sort of charm for me, but this year felt different—special. Snowflakes danced lazily through the air as I pulled my coat tighter against the winter chill. My boots crunched over the fresh snow as I approached the cabin nestled at the edge of the woods. Inside, the warm glow of a fire flickered through the frosted windows.

“Hey, Y/N you made it!” Martin’s voice called out as I opened the door, letting in a burst of cold air before quickly shutting it behind me. His grin was as wide and welcoming as ever, his trademark blue sweater almost blending into the cabin’s rustic decor.

“Of course! I wasn’t going to miss this,” I said, stomping the snow off my boots. The smell of pine and hot cocoa greeted me, along with the sound of soft laughter from the other side of the room.

Chris looked up from where he was stringing popcorn garlands near the tree. His green sweater and matching festive hat made him look like he’d just walked out of a Christmas card. “Finally! We were starting to think a snowstorm might’ve gotten you,” he teased, tossing me a bag of marshmallows.

I laughed, catching the bag midair. “Not a chance. You two promised me a ‘wild’ Christmas, and I’m here to see if you can deliver.”

Chris smirked, leaning back to admire his handiwork on the tree. “Oh, don’t you worry. When it comes to us, there’s always a little bit of wild involved.”

I settled onto the couch, watching as Martin returned from the kitchen with three steaming mugs of cocoa. He handed me one, and I wrapped my hands around the warm ceramic, savoring the rich smell of chocolate.

“So,” I began, taking a careful sip, “what’s the plan? We can’t just sit around all night drinking cocoa, can we?”

Martin leaned against the fireplace, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Of course not! Chris and I were thinking of taking you on a nighttime hike. The forest is beautiful under the moonlight this time of year.”

Chris nodded eagerly. “And, we might’ve heard about some wildlife activity nearby. Think of it as a mini Creature Adventure—Christmas edition!”

I raised an eyebrow but couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. “You know, only you two would think a midnight hike in the snow is a festive activity.”

“That’s why you love us,” Martin shot back with a playful wink.

After finishing our cocoa, we bundled up in our warmest gear and headed out. The night was crisp, the snow reflecting the moonlight and making the forest shimmer like something out of a dream.

As we trekked through the trees, Martin and Chris pointed out animal tracks in the snow and the occasional distant rustle of wildlife. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and I found myself swept up in the wonder of it all.

“Wait,” Chris whispered suddenly, holding up a hand to stop us. We froze, straining to hear what had caught his attention.

In the distance, a low, melodic howl echoed through the trees.

“Wolves,” Martin said softly, his breath visible in the cold air.

My heart skipped a beat. “Are we...safe?” I asked, glancing nervously around the dark forest.

“Completely,” Chris assured me. “They’re just singing their Christmas carols,” he added with a grin, earning a laugh from both Martin and me.

We stood there for a moment, listening to the hauntingly beautiful sound of the wolves’ calls before continuing on. When we returned to the cabin, the fire was still crackling, and a plate of cookies waited for us on the table.

As we sat around the fire, recounting the night’s adventure and laughing over Martin’s less-than-graceful tumble into a snowdrift, I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment.

This was Christmas—being surrounded by friends, sharing laughter and wonder, and embracing the magic of the moment.

As the night wore on, Chris leaned back in his chair, staring at the glowing embers in the fireplace. “You know,” he said softly, “Christmas is about celebrating the connections we share—with people, with nature, with everything around us.”

Martin nodded, raising his mug in a mock toast. “To another wild Christmas, and many more to come.”

“To many more,” I echoed, feeling the warmth of their friendship wrap around me like a cozy blanket

[pumpkinpot]

Late night: Astarion

.

There was something about nighttime now. It was a peace Astarion wasn't familiar with. Chatter fell with the sun and the worries of the day seemed to press between the pages of an unfinished chapter, idle until morning.

The adjustment was violent to say the least. Astarion battled with himself for weeks upon integration into the party. Ink took to the sky and his mind broke into verse.

Should he loot everyone's bags for valuables? Now would be a perfect time to travel, find other camps and loot their bags or take a little bite of heavy sleepers.

Other people's willingness to trust the darkness was his best defense against their better judgement.

Here was annoyingly different. Trust was currency and you all delt generously. That didn't mean he wasn't himself, or rather the self that he had been molded into.

So he lie there on a stolen bedroll looking up at stars he'd become intimately familiar with and waited for exhaustion to take him. It would eventually take him, right?

The fire was in embers and soft breathing echoed through the shifting trees. He almost wished for someone to charge the camp. Torch in one hand, sword in the other. then at least his alertness would feel warranted.

Some time ago he memorized everyone's breathing patterns to scout who was a heavy enough sleeper to potentially drink from.

Shadowheart whimpered in her sleep and rolled around often. Halsin was an incredibly heavy sleeper, but Astarion wasn't willing to risk those bear arms catching him. Gale ground his teeth in his sleep and woke if the fire stayed out too long.

Karlach slept away from everyone and kept herself well guarded with boobytraps.

Wyll was his second choice behind Tav. He was a deep sleeper and didn't move much. Astarion intended to give him a try until seeing the knife under Wylls pillow.

It had been months since you had been generously feeding him, but Astation still kept the sleeping catalog in his mind. even now, he could locate everyone by their breaths.

Gale to the right. Shadowheart across the way, Tav-

An emptiness pressed in from the darkness. when had they gotten up, where the fuck did you go?

He squinted at your empty bedroll and then looked around. No movement caught his eye. He rolled onto his knees, throwing a bit of spirits and wood into the fire to keep Gale in his slumber.

This night was cooler than most. A welcomed surprise amongst a heatwave. Every night his week he's woken to a slab of sweat sticking his shirt to his back. Tonight it blew blissfully in the wind.

Tav was in none of the standing tents, nor the lake side, nor the storage trunks. He brought his hands up to his lips and blew between cupped fingers.

A perfect mourning dove call spread through the night. He doesn't know how or when he learned to do the imitation, but, he knew when he heard the song, it was time to venture back to the palace before sunrise.

It echoed in soft bouts of three with a break between to listen.

Ironically he'd never actually seen the bird.

That was then, now he used the song to find you when you wondered off. which was more often than he liked.

From somewhere in the thick of the trees he heard it. Soft and not as refined as his imitation, but still it was you. Wherever you'd ventured was beyond the reach of the fires light and he sighed frustrated lying before continuing.

He stepped into the sheet of increasing darkness until he was right beneath the call.

"up here," Tav whispered.

He looked around then up and to his dismay there the fuck you were, on a branch. In a tree.

"Why?" He sighed.

Tavs response must have been inaudible because none came. It was probably that insolent shrug. Astarion clamored up the lowest branch inching his way towards his squirrely companion.

"I'm too old to be climbing trees," He complained.

"I'm older than you," you retorted.

His eyes rolled. "only in human years."

"I think that should count for more where agility is concerned."

He didn't humor a response. His agility was fine. It was tested vigorously and consistently. Except not in tree climbing, which seemed to be oddly important to this particular adventurer.

A quiet disposition fell between the two. It could have been comfortable if the thin branch between Astarions legs was.

"Why aren't you asleep?" He asked, though his tone was harsher than intended.

"You've already fed on me tonight-"

"-Yes and this extra excursion could reopen your neck wound."

"did it?"

If it had, he would be able to smell it and it hadn't. "That's not the point."

"Is your drive to argue and criticize compulsive or some sick hobby?"

His mouth opened then closed. There you go again asking crypically deep questions he would think about later but needed to be witty about now. "A hobby, and I am rather good at it, so it seems or you wouldn't be deflecting-"

"Fuck Astarion I couldn't sleep."

Silence.

"Me either."

Silence. This one fell into one of those categories that could be argued wasn't silent at all. there was adjusting sighs and loud unspoken thoughts and a deafening need to not be silent.

"what was the city like at night?"

It wasn't a simple answer. He couldn't say there were nights he didn't even see the sky or that he scorned the warm pavement when he was out, because it got to be kissed by the sun. He couldn't say that for a few years into his spawn life he relished taking souls off the street because how dare they slink into his territory. into his hell when they had mornings.

It was different now, but only slightly. Night pressed you for answers to questions you didn't want to think about. There was nowhere to hide because it, itself was what you would hide in.

That's why people congregated under lamp posts and kept candles forward. Night wasn't cruel. She was- "Honest. After a certain hour the only ones left were the ones who were hurt enough to not look at the hour."

A break, a breath and a hushed smile. "Do you have the time?"

The corners of his lip tipped up. "No."

Now the night was as it should be. Now the silence could take hold of those who belonged in it. This was his peace.

[thanotaphobia]

ménage à quatre

or, missa runs into tina on the way to see phil. and pac. and mariana. and-

CROSSPOSTED TO AO3

⋆

Missa thinks he’s decent at being sneaky.

He at least doesn’t knock things over. Their new and improved underground base is well-lit despite the dark stone that makes up its walls, and Missa skirts the farms and chairs and chests with ease. Getting out isn’t so simple, but he’s nearly there. It’s nighttime, and while most people don’t always sleep through the night in this place, it’s easier to hide under the cover of darkness. Easier to get away with things, to see people. Missa also knows if he runs into anyone who isn’t his team or Phil that he’s absolutely dying, so going out at night is a necessary risk. Risk, because mobs, but once he reaches the meeting spot in the woods he and Phil had talked about, then he’ll be okay.

He misses Phil. With every aching beat of his heart, he misses him.

Missa hadn’t known how strong his feelings had run until they’d been separated like this. It was physically painful, like love had wrapped tendrils around his heart and gut, squeezing every time Phil pops into his head. 

And so the occasional midnight rendezvous must happen. It has to happen, because otherwise Missa thinks he would die if he didn’t get to see his husband in a relatively safe, stress-free space.

Careful not to catch the attention of any of his teammates, Missa creeps through the base and watches every step. He doesn’t think they’d crucify him for it, but he doesn’t think they’d like it either. People have become different, and fast. Personalities have shifted and everyone, Missa thinks, has gotten a little more ruthless. Even Missa himself thinks it’s affecting him– although he tends to isolate instead of lash out. He’s frozen to death on beaches more than once, staring out at the ocean lost in thought until his eyes had clouded over and he’d woken up in their base with fingers stiff from cold. Others, though. BBH has a look in his eye every time Missa sees him, a look that makes him skirt around the man like he’s got the plague. 

It’s unsettling. He hates feeling uncomfortable in what’s supposed to be a safe place. He hates sneaking around like this when he should just be able to see his husband whenever he wants– he hates it. 

But it’s fine. He’s nearly out, anyway. He enters the darkest part of his exit, a long corridor, and hurries forward. Just another couple steps and–

“Oh!”

All the air is forced out of his lungs, half from terror and half from the collision. He bounces backwards into the cold stone wall and shrieks, then shoves a hand over his own mouth to stifle the sound. Across from him, there’s a thud and someone gasps. Missa blinks into the dark.

“Missa?” Tina says after a second of silence. He takes into stock what just happened– a warm body bumping into his, shorter but strong, and the strong scent of tea leaves and cool soil in the air. Tina. Just Tina.

“Sorry,” Missa says out loud after a second, lowering his hand from his mouth. Tina laughs, and Missa can’t see her very well in the dark as he pushes himself up off the wall. “I didn’t mean to–”

“No, it’s okay!” Tina says. They’re both whispering, but even then each word sounds like a gunshot in the tunnel. It reverbs, echoing around them and twisting in the air like smoke. “I didn’t expect you– oh, man, I fell down and dropped my bag, can you–”

“Yeah, one second,” Missa says, getting her intent instantly and dropping to his knees to feel around for the knapsack. “You okay?”

“Fine, thanks!” Tina giggles, high and breathy. Missa’s hand knocks against fabric and he grasps it triumphantly. 

“Got it!” he says, raising his clenched fist into the air– only for it to come into contact with skin and bone, the crack echoing around them louder than their words had been.

Missa is almost impressed by how Pac doesn’t swear. He hears a thump as someone sits down, a soft hiss of breath, and then a long exhale.

“Oh my god,” Missa breathes, before he knows it’s Pac, “I’m so so sorry–”

“All good,” Pac grits out, and Tina gasps.

“Hey!” she says. “It’s like a party in here!”

“Are you bleeding?” Missa asks, and Pac mumbles an affirmative. The next thirty seconds is spent looking for a piece of cloth to hold to his nose, and they end up having to improvise with one of Tina’s shirt sleeves. “I’m so sorry,” Missa apologizes again. “Bro, bro, I swear I didn’t know you were there, I didn’t mean to, I was just getting Tina’s bag. I’m so sorry, man.”

“It’s dark,” Pac says, his voice slightly muffled and sounding as though he’s got a bad cold. “All good! All good, my friend.”

“What were you even doing down here?” Tina asks. She’s kneeling by Pac on the other side, and Missa has finally gotten used to the dark. They’re all mostly on the floor, staring around at one another– Missa can see the whites of their eyes, and that’s about it. It’s the strangest situation he’s been in for a while, honestly. 

“Well, I was trying to leave,” Pac says, sniffling once and grunting in pain. “But, ah– you were here first.”

“Wait,” Missa says, blinking as he realizes something. “Tina, why were you here–”

And then someone lights a torch, the spark and resulting flame causing all three of them to cover their eyes or cry out. Missa blinks back tears from the sudden brightness and glances back– standing a few feet away is Mariana, torch held up as he stares at the three of them with an indignant expression.

“The fuck are you bitches doing?” he asks loudly, and despite their various states of distress, Missa, Tina, and Pac shush him quickly. Mariana goes quiet, pressing his lips together before stalking forward and crouching beside them. In the torchlight, Missa can see the blood on Pac’s nose now, and winces. “Why did none of you have a torch?” Mariana asks.

Tina hums. “That probably would’ve been a good idea.”

“Why are you here?” Pac asks. “Did you hear us?”

“No,” Mariana scoffs. “But I should’ve. I was going to see Slime–” He clearly didn’t mean to say it– his eyes widen a fraction and he snaps his mouth shut quickly, staring at the three of them before clearing his throat. “I meant, I was going to kill Slime.”

“We all know what you did in the fountain,” Pac says, his voice nasally but dry. “You know?”

Tina breaks out into big, bubbly laughter, heaving for air between gasps of breaths. She giggles, high-pitched and frantic, and Missa can’t help but snort either, covering his face with one hand. He can see Mariana between the bars of his fingers, and the way his face goes a bright, brilliant red.

“Yeah, well–” Mariana only stutters for a moment, composing himself and snapping. “What are you three doing anyway?”

“I was going to see Bagi,” Tina practically wails. She’s on her back on the floor, hair spread like a halo around her, and Missa thinks it’s a miracle she hasn’t passed out from laughing yet. Pac is laughing too, still pinching his nose but grinning and cackling. Missa bites his lip, then drags his hands down his face and comes out with the truth.

“Phil,” he says, cursing his husband’s name into his palms. “Phil and I–”

“I won’t say who I was going to see,” Pac says proudly, and Tina stops laughing at that. She sits up and points a finger at him. 

“We all know about Fit, Pac! We know! Nothing is a secret!” Between her words she hiccups giggles. “This is so dumb, we’re all so dumb!”

Missa leans back against the stone wall of the tunnel and slumps, his knees slowly giving out until he’s sitting fully on the cold floor and staring at the rest of them slowly losing it. Tina and Pac are holding onto each other, giggling and rocking back and forth slightly, while Mariana is trying his hardest to look disgusted with them and notably failing to hide a smile. Missa lets out a breath and knocks his head back, covering his eyes with his elbow and snickering.

“Well, I’m going,” Mariana finally says, stepping over Missa’s outstretched legs and past Pac and Tina. He’s still got the torch in hand– the shadows against the wall stretch and warp with his movement, making the whole tunnel feel unsteady. He turns back. “I have a date to keep.”

“Oh gosh, so do I,” Tina gasps, finally getting a hold of herself and scrambling for her bag. Missa nudges it closer to her with one foot and she grins at him. “Thanks! Don’t want Bagi to be waiting up for me.”

“Have fun on your date,” Missa says, mouth a little dry. “Dates.”

“You too,” Tina chirps, standing up and slinging her bag over her back.

“Wait, I need to get up too,” Pac says, and he and Missa stand together, gripping each other’s shoulders and arms as they do. His nose has, for the most part, stopped bleeding.

“Sorry again,” Missa says apologetically. 

Pac grins and shakes his head. “No biggie.”

“Are you coming?” Mariana calls. The shadows have gotten longer and the light dimmer as he’d started walking away, but he waits now near the end of the tunnel, looking back at the three of them with mild irritation. “Or can I ditch you all yet?”

“Oh be quiet Mariana,” Tina says, catching up with him easily. They both wait for Missa and Pac, which makes something warm blossom in his chest where the cold has sat so easily the past few days. “We can go together now, as long as we stay away from Bad!”

“That would be not good,” Pac mutters, glancing back. Missa winces. 

“We’ve gotten this far,” he says.

“This far without waking the guard dog,” Tina says, and they all make their way the last little bit out into the faint light of the stars. Around them the air is cold and crisp, and it takes Missa’s breath away. For a minute they all stand there, taking in the sight of the moon glistening across the oil-slick sea, light refracting off the ice and snow and making the whole world a soft, delicate shade of blue. Even the light from Mariana’s torch doesn’t last, barely casting out onto the pockmarked and scarred beach ahead of them.

“Well,” Missa says, equipping some gloves. He doesn’t want to stand here for too long. He wants to see Phil. The ache is back, something about the sight in front of him and the people beside him making his heart ultra aware of Phil’s absence. He thinks of Phil, worrying about him being late; he thinks of Phil laughing when he hears what delayed him. “See you in the morning, guys.”

“Hey, Missa?” He glances over at Mariana, who sticks his torch down into the sand and shoves his hands into his pockets, nonchalant. “Do you want to go together? Might be easier. Mobs and stuff.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea! Pac, let’s go together!” Tina chirps, and Pac nods with a smile. She grabs his hand and he lets her.

“Sure,” Missa says, a little startled. “That’s– yeah, yeah. Okay.”

“Okay,” Mariana says. “Bye, guys.”

Pac and Tina wave as they deploy their separate boats, hopping in beside one another and parting into the cold, choppy sea. Mariana drives, Missa sitting passenger, and he stares out over the ocean as they leave their team base behind them in the cold. When he looks over at Mariana, the other man is staring out across the horizon in front of them, hands gripping the wheel of the boat and a strange look on his face. When he notices Missa looking, he glances over and catches his eye.

“What’s the matter?” Missa asks.

“Bad Boy Halo totally was watching us leave,” Mariana says, dead serious, and that is finally what sends Missa into hysterical laughter.

[yaeggravate]

hey guys, just a heads up but nicole isn't the butterfly witch from nighttime whispers in the echoing woods. i know the crystal fly on her chest is confusing but the butterfly witch is andersdotter:

A brooch that the witch in the tale wore. As with the other ornaments she loved, this was characterized by butterfly-like shapes.

[captain039]

PART 5 last part Big bear

Halsin x reader

Warnings: AOB, feelings, tav insert, Angst, abuse, truama, hurt/comfort,

Previous part <-

Leaving hadn’t been an option, even if you wanted to. The suppressors were wearing off just as quick as you took them. Your body felt like it was on fire, you couldn’t keep food or water down. Everyone’s scent was over powering especially a certain Druid’s. You felt like clawing your insides out, the gods truely hated you. You ignored Tav who had approached a few times with food, snacks and water. This would pass and you’d go to the woods, find a place to live out the rest of your days before you died alone and quietly.

Halsin hadn’t stopped pacing since this morning, he hadn't slept, his mind raced and his thoughts were scrambled. You pushed him away and he should respect your boundary’s, but you were in pain and he could ease it. He was too pent up from watching from afar, Tav had come to him a few times trying to offer kind words, but he shrugged them off without thought. He hadn’t meant to be rude and ignoring, but you were shaking on that stupid hay bale, you’d thrown up twice now and you didn’t drink or eat. His second nature was close to forcing you to accept his help, but he knew that wasn’t the way, that would end badly, you’d reject him even more and he’d cast himself out. He didn’t know your past, but it held you in a vice grip and you were drowning in it.

Nighttime finally came, you wanted a nice warm bath and maybe some strong alcohol or potion to knock you out. You felt to dizzy to stand up though.

“Told you, you needed me” you shot up this time, seeing the elder standing by your bed. You felt fear rush through your body as you shook your head.

“No, you’re dead!” You said and she cackled.

“I’m a witch! You’ll never kill me!” She yelled, but nobody else seemed to hear her.

“Hiding here like a coward, you should be spilling blood!” She hissed and you whimpered.

“You’re not real” you whispered shaking your head.

“Oh I am! You’ll never be free of me!” Her smile was evil, her laugh echoing in your ears as you cried out.

She was suddenly gone, your whole body shaking in terror and a worried alpha in front of you, holding your arms gently. You flinched from him, quickly looking around seeing the elder gone.

“Did you see her?” You asked and he frowned glancing around the barn.

“I saw no one, just heard your cry” he said carefully and you felt tears in your eyes, even in death she haunts you.

“She’s not dead” you said and he frowned, but it clicked.

“I killed her, I assure you” he said and you shook your head.

“She wants me back, I’ve had my freedom” you muttered, someone else held your fate once again.

“She’s not here” Halsin said and you growled.

“Why’re you here still!” You yelled.

“I’ve told you to leave me alone! I should’ve spilled your blood when I had the chance” you sneered.

You looked out your eyes, like you were inside your head, but not the one in control as you sneered at Halsin. You yelled and cried banging against invisible walls.

Hearing your cry had never ran so fast in his life, something put horrid fear in you, your stench of anxiety and fear filling his nose instantly. When you mention a she he thought back to the witch, was she tormenting you even in death? Your face seemed to glaze over and someone else’s eyes stared at him as you began yelling and threatened. He felt the sting he did, but he knew it wasn’t you, oak father, he needed to help you somehow. He held your arms gently, closing his eyes and letting his magic flow from him to you. You were still sneering and threatening him, but he ignored you, he didn’t care if you sliced him down, he’d hand you a blade if it made you happy.

You felt magic flow through you and suddenly your mind was your own. You heard a cry in the distance and watched Halsins face squint slightly before he opened his eyes.

“What did you do?” You asked quietly.

“Removed her, she somehow reached you in death, she won’t anymore” he said softly as tears returned to your eyes.

“I’m sorry” you said looking away feeling the ache return to your body. His scent filled your nose and your body shuddered slightly at the warmth it filled you. You breathed him in for a moment, the smell of leather and earth on him, the calmness of an alpha, the care of an alpha. You had closed your eyes as a few tears dropped, you were lost.

Halsin hesitated as he let you go and you didn’t blame him for wanting to leave, you just needed to lie down again. The alpha surprised you though when you were suddenly scooped up gently in large arms. He sat down on the hay bale, his back against the broken wall. You felt your muscles loose feelings like a rag doll. You shuffled a bit legs by his hips as you cried into his chest.

“I don’t know what to do” you sobbed as his one of his hands ran gently up and down your back.

“You overcome, you heal, it’ll take time though”he whispered as you sagged even more sensing his sadness.

“How?” You muttered.

“With help” he said softly.

“Who would want to help me after what I did?” You scoffed lightly.

“Me” he whispered arms going around your waist to hold you closer.

Tag list:

@perseny

@iwannabealocalcryptid

@thatcutewerewolf

@aeryntheofficial

@vinithechocolatevampire

[dailycapitano]

I have returned with research.

For the character-specific artifact sets, Nighttime Whispers in the Echoing Woods for Navia (yes I know it can work for other characters too but it was still made for Navia), and Fragments of Harmonic Whimsy for Arlecchino, both domains were released in the same patch as their companion character's banner

5.5 still might be for Capitano, if it's a more general set that would happen to work for his kit, but we won't know until his kit is leaked (if ever, considering the state of leaks right now)

Don't lose hope for 5.6 though, because tbh character specific artifact sets are pretty rare anyway so the 'general artifact set that happens to work with him' is more likely than a specific artifact set for him. There is still the other evidence/speculation supporting the 3 patch theory as well, but, again, we wont know for sure until we get more information / 5.6 is released.

- 🗡️

Thank you for doing your research and so quickly?? The speed of light right here😭💙❄️

That's true about the relics being released the same patch but then if it really is 5.5, it really could a more general set then as you said, and if it is then maybe there's hope after all👀👀

I'm really itching to see what's going to happen for 5.6, I'm really hoping it will be his awakening but it also could be 6.x, the copium is really hard rn and there's also a lot of false information going about. But his model is the same height as Wrio's for now since they adjusted it, that must be something, right?👀💙❄️

Maybe he will get set relics though? But something says it's highly doubted, but I genuinely hope it'll be 3 patches time...the symbolism will hit really hard then, 🗡️anon!

Thank you so much for sending these asks, it's been so interesting to read and learn more about what's happening with the Cap and the latest leaks etc! It's really exciting😭💙❄️

Thank you! 🗡️

[voidandabyssal]

Stardew Valley Sans x reader!

just a little stardew valley au I've been sitting on for a while, thought I'd share

The bus rumbled with life as it bumbled over the dirt path. The engine purring as it guzzled down gas on the hot spring day. You sighed, leaning your head against the window with your arms wrapped around your suitcase. The sun shone through the fluffy clouds and little rabbits and birds sprung up from the trees in the distant forest; moving about their daily life. 

You were the only one on the bus, not counting the bus driver, who occasionally spared you a few strange looks every now and then. No one came out this far, well, at the very least humans never did. You let out a tired sigh as the bus driver sent you another concerned look. Her lips pursed with curiosity, you could tell she wanted to talk. 

The long dirt path eventually came to a stop, a rusted bus sign signalling the end of your journey. Thank the stars. You weren’t sure you could put up with her staring anymore. You stumbled out of your seat, struggling to drag your old suitcase down the rickety bus steps. 

The bus turns and drives away without a moment's notice. Barely giving you enough time to even breath in your first breath of fresh air in hours. A dusty old bench lines the bus stop with a rusty sign hanging over it. 

“Stardew Valley” it says. A delightful little farming community surrounded by acres upon acres of fertile farming ground, lucious rivers, and a large and ancient forest. Your grandfather had lived here all his life, raised your mother here too. He was a farmer and had been relatively successful at it too. “Moondrop Farm” is what he had called it. He used to regale you with stories of how he obtained the land, how he had travelled through the old mines battling slimes and bats until he found a small slip of paper that turned out to be a deed to a large plot of land right outside the town. 

You smiled at the memory of your younger self, giggling and falling over with excitement when grandpa began his nighttime stories. You had spent many summers here as a child, only stopping once your grandfather became too ill to manage his little farm and had to be left at the hospital. 

You were only twelve when he died, and it seemed like the world shuddered to a halt when he did. You breathed a heavy sigh as your feet finally met cobblestone paths. He had willed Moondrop Farm to you when he died, much to the displeasure of your older cousins. 

“Come here when the pressures of life become too much,” he had hoarsely whispered to you as his heart monitor beeped loudly in the background; your mothers sobs echoing out from the hallway. 

Now here you were, finally in the town of Stardew Valley. People, no Monsters, turned to look at you oddly as you passed by, determined to find the inn of this village. 

A few years ago Mt Ebott had burst open, letting hundreds of thousands of Monsters escape from their stony prison. Many had ended up setting up shop in small communities like Stardew. Away from the big cities, where dangerous Monsterphobic protests were common. 

You scanned the town centre. No one you recognised, none of the familiar summer friends or shopkeepers remained. You would have been more disappointed, though you somewhat expected this. Most humans had abandoned their homes when Monsters first came down, most never returned. 

Ah well, at least it gave Monsters the opportunity to build their own 100% Monster communities. At least until you move in that is. 

Beds of flowers line the stone path, small pop up shops selling magical odds and ends. You send a few friendly waves to the passersby, suitcase clinking as it rolls over the stones. Soon you stumble across the inn. Warm and built with wood from the nearby forest. Puffs of smoke rise out of the chimney. You tilt your head, wouldn’t it be hot? You enter anyway, looking to finally relax after a long day's worth of travel. 

“Welcome to the Snowed Inn! How can I help?” a Bunny Monster perks up as you enter, her long fluffy ears twitching at the sound. She leans forward, taking you in as she does. 

“Yeah, I just need a room for one night” you answer back. She nods, bouncing on her feet as she quickly moves to retrieve the small door key off the hook. The inn emanated comfort. Thick, colourful rugs decorated the walls and large windows with small pots of plants growing provided needed greenery and fresh air. Small couches squared away to the sides with wood coffee tables let guests sit comfortably as they awaited their next activity.

“So, anything fun to do around here?” you ask, the rabbits eyes twinkled with excitement, literally, you’re pretty sure you saw a few stars form in her eyes. 

“Totally! There’s Grillbys, the theatre oh or you could wander through the forest. Apparently there’s some creepy old wizard deep in it” she giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. You can’t help but smile along with her antics. 

“I’ll try and check all those things out, thanks” you wave goodbye to her as you walk down the small hallway. Old oil paintings decorate the wall, each depicting a familiar scene of the town. Occasional doors would disrupt the pattern of paintings. Old oak doors with old rusted door knobs. ‘005’ the number plate on your door glints in the overhead light, despite the age and clear lack of care. 

The inn had seen better days that was for sure. You remembered when you were a child and ol’ Gus would be manning the front desk, handing out small lollies for you and the rest of the children. A smile always graced his chubby, tanned face. 

It didn’t surprise you to see that Monsters had taken over the inn. He’d probably packed his bags and moved over to greener pastures when all that tourist revenue dried up. Turns out, more people were scared of Monsters than curious of them. 

The large, fluffy bed welcomed you. Your tired feet sway as you fall face first into the bed, slipping your shoes off and throwing them across the room. Your suitcase lies abandoned on the wood floor. 

You drape the blankets over you, even with the hot dry day outside, you can’t help but snuggle under the blankets. Sleep catches you quicker than you expect. Darkness pulling at the edges of your vision and the soft pillows letting you nod off. The ride here had been tenuous and bumpy. You’d almost gotten off at the wrong stop, multiple times. 

You glance over to your suitcase, the small torn and worn letter that held your future was carefully tucked away there. The small deed gave you the promise of the farm and all that was on it to you. It had been years since grandpa had died, you hoped the farm wasn’t too bad. You groaned, cursing your impulsiveness. You should have checked if the farm was even liveable! Ah well, that would be a problem for tomorrow's you. 

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

The ringing of your alarm sends you jolting upright, curses falling from your mouth as you smash down onto the snooze button. 

“Five more minutes” you mumble, digging your head further into the pillow. Five minutes go by and your alarm sets off again, this time you get out of bed and trudge over to your suitcase. Throwing on an old pair of pants and a shirt, something you didn’t care about if it got dirty. 

You waved good morning to the bunny receptionist, luggage trailing behind you as you walked out the door and followed the stone path. Not many people populated the street, it makes sense, it’s some ungodly hour in the morning. You're still tired, rubbing at your sleepy eyes. 

Finally the small town buildings disappear and a long dirt path leads you to your destination. Tall dense trees dot the landscape and you even spot a large lake deeper into the woods. You grin at the memories of that lake, stars the size of the fish in there! You hoped it was all still there. 

You sighed with relief when your grandfather's cabin finally appeared from the distance. Yeesh, maybe you should have checked it over. Vines spread over the outside walls, twisting and curling and pulling the wood apart. Spiders webs hung along the patio and broken glass dusted the floor of it. Looks like someone threw a rock through one of the windows. A small bird's nest had been built along the sharp edges of the window. 

“Please have nothing gross inside, Please have nothing gross inside!” you whispered as you tugged on the door. 

SNAP!

Shit, the handle fell off…the handle fell off!

You stare down indignantly as your hand holds the now broken off door knob. The door swings open, revealing split floor boards, cobwebs and a dinky little bed shoved into the corner of the room. You don’t even try to explore the rest of the house. The upstairs and downstairs floors seem completely rotten and there was no way you could afford a broken leg. Not with so much to do. 

You turn back outside grabbing the small bag of seeds from your suitcase as you do. Parsnips, perfect for a beginner farmer. Easy to grow, don’t need a lot of attention and people like them! 

You wander to the old and crumbling greenhouse. You don’t even bother giving it an inspection, you can already guess the repairs will be extensive, right now you just need your grandfather's old tools. Aha! The rusty old hoe lies on the ground, alongside all his other tools. Watering can, pickaxe, axe, scythe, and most importantly, his trusty stone sword. 

You remembered when he used to toss that sword to you and pretend to be some great big slime and would chase you about his cabin, roaring and laughing all the way. Your heart warms at the tender memory. 

Stars you missed him. He always knew what to say, what to do, and how to move forward. You could never, too awkward for your own good. 

With that being said; the dirt is tilled, the seeds are planted and watered and only a few hours have passed by! 

You look on, proud of your small garden. It wasn’t much, but it was honest work. 

The sun starts to dip from the sky, beautiful hazes of purple and blue colour the sky, signalling dusk. Your eyes were caught by the heavy puffs of smoke that flew into the sky. 

You didn’t know you had neighbours. They must be knew, when grandpa worked the farm it was only himself around for miles. 

Your stomach growled and tightened with hunger. Ugh, maybe they’d show some of that famous Stardew hospitality and invite you for dinner. You really didn’t want to walk all the way back to town for dinner. 

You followed the smoke, catching the scent on the wind and traipsing down the dusty path. 

Soon the neighbours' farm came into view. Luscious fruit trees grown in perfect lines and organised by type, barns and coops filled with the whooping of animals and rows upon rows of growing fruit and vegetables. Fat bees fluttered around the wildflowers, fluttering back to the busy bee hives. 

Your jaw dropped. This looked like it took years of hard work and dedication. Stars you weren’t even sure your grandfather was this organised. 

The homestead was even more spectacular. Tall and warm it was practically a mansion with how big it was. Though tastefully so, in a rustic, homely type way. The top level had a small balcony people could walk out on and beautiful glass stained windows lined the wooden walls. 

Bile of shame rose to your throat as you raised your hand to knock on the door. How could you ever compete with people like this?! Maybe you should just go home, throw in the towel before you have a chance to be proven wrong. 

“HELLO HUMAN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING ALL THE WAY OUT HERE?!” you screech out terrified, jumping back and nearly falling down the entrance stairs. A tall, skinny skeleton with a floppy straw hat looks down on you, his brow bone raised questioningly. 

You fluster out a response, stumbling over your words and completely failing to hide it, “uh, well I’m your new neighbour! I-uh I just moved in and I thought I should introduce myself” you raise your shaking hand out in greeting. The skeleton theatrically gasps and grasps your hand tightly, shaking vigorously. 

“I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS! I’M GLAD YOU’VE FINALLY COME DOWN! COME IN! COME IN! I WAS JUST ABOUT TO SERVE MY FAMOUS SPAGHETTI!” you are urged in by Papyrus, his hand pressing warmly against your back. The delicious smell of food makes your stomach grumble in protest. You flush as you try to ignore the hunger in your belly, as well as the exhaustion nipping at your eyelids. 

Papyrus escorts you into his living room, talking loudly all the way there. Though you're too focused on your hunger to really pay attention to him. 

“NOW! WAIT HERE HUMAN, THE FOOD SHOULD BE READY SOON. SANS! COME MEET OUR NEIGHBOUR!” 

“Comin’ bro” a much quieter but deeper voice announces. You let out a quiet screech as a smaller skeleton appears next to you on the couch. This skeleton was much closer to you in height and much bigger than his brother. He looked round and soft, which shouldn’t really be possible considering he was only made of bone. Your face flushed an even deeper red as your eyes followed down to his arms. Completely bone, but much thicker than a humans. You pondered if his bones worked like muscles? Either way you couldn’t keep your eyes off them

“Heya kiddo, whatcha leafing at?” he snickered at his own pun, Papyrus groaned loudly from the kitchen. 

“N-nothing!” you stumbled out, body tensing with embarrassment as you shifted further down the couch. The thick skeleton moved down with you. You turned your face to the wall, trying desperately to hide the heavy blush that had doomed you.

“Hehe, names Sans, Sans the Skeleton” he offers his hand, grinning widely as you shake it. 

“I’m the new farmer at Moondrop Farm. I thought I should meet the neighbours. Since we’re, yanno, the only ones out here” well at the very least Sans seems charmed by your anxiousness more than anything. 

One of his thick arms reaches up and wraps it around the back of the couch, right where your own tense body was. 

“Moondrop farm? Didn’t think anyone would ever move there. Aside from some racoons” you’ve noticed now that unlike Papyrus, he has large green lights in his eye sockets. The colour of a forest on a sunny day, the lights twitch and move, much like a human's own pupils. Fascinating.

“DINNER IS READY!” you glance away from Sans, looking behind him to the dining room where you can see Papyrus’s tall body placing your meals. 

“Well, don’t want dinner to get cold-” you look back to Sans, only to find him gone. Completely disappeared from his seat. You quirk an eyebrow, confused. 

When you take your seat at the table. A beautiful plate of pasta with a thick tomato sauce spread across it is served to you. A small garnish of basil provided some needed greenery. 

“Thank you Papyrus, I’m sure it tastes amazing” Papyrus blushes, green dusting across his face. 

“Yeah bro, you oregano put a lot of effort into dinner” 

“SANS NO PUNS AT THE TABLE!” Papyrus huffed, taking his own seat and digging into his dinner. 

Though Sans mostly stays quiet throughout the dinner, you and Papyrus spend much of it talking. You’re eager to learn all there is to farm and Papyrus glad to have someone new and interesting to talk to. 

“AMAZING! THE CITY SEEMS TO BUSY. EVERYTIME ME AND SANS VISIT I HAVE TO MAKE SURE HE DOESN’T GO WANDERING OFF, OR ELSE I WON’T FIND HIM TILL THE END OF THE DAY!” he exclaims, you giggle. Unaware of Sans eyelights on you. 

“It seems overwhelming but once you get used to it it gets easy” a humorous glint passes over your eyes, “just train to remember the route, that’s all” Papyrus gasps dramatically, pointedly turning to Sans who lets out a wheezing laughter.

“SANS! LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO THEM! YOU’VE TURNED THEM TO THE DARK SIDE!” 

“Hay there, that’s all them bro” an undignified groan of brotherly annoyance fills the room. Papyrus dragging his hands down his face. 

“BROTHER!” you raise your hands, signalling surrender. 

“Alright, alright, we’ll leave you alone,” you say, still chuckling at the brothers' interactions. It seemed unfamiliar to you, to have a family that was so close and so bonded. Your own siblings had been much older than you, and much less interested in you. They had moved away from home as soon as possible and had never been back. 

Dinner resumes, with much less puns this time. Sans now joining in on the conversation, adding in his own humorous thoughts on the topic. Alongside giving the occasional tip. 

“Middle of spring now, think there’s any time to plant anything?” you ask. Both brothers nod, each adding their own opinion.

“OF COURSE! NOTHING LARGE, TOO LATE FOR THAT BUT SOMETHING SMALL AND EASY LIKE PARSNIPS WOULD BE PERFECT!”

“Potatoes could be good, everyone loves those”

You nod sagely, taking in their advice. Well, you’d already planted some parsnip seeds, maybe potatoes would be a good addition. 

Soon your plate is empty, all that delicious homemade food settling into your stomach. 

“Oh, I can wash the dishes, it’s no worry!” you try and take the plates from Papyrus’s hand, though he just shakes you off.

“NONSENSE HUMAN! YOU ARE A GUEST! GO! I’LL BE DONE IN A FEW MINUTES. I THINK SANS IS STILL ON THE COUCH” he rushes away before you can insist. Damn those long legs!

Though you do go follow Papyrus order and sit beside Sans. T.V plays on in the background as you both watch on in comfortable silence. 

A shiver crawls down your spine as a cold gust of wind makes it through the home. Sans eyelights watch as you hunch over, trying to shield your arms from the cold snap. 

“Here,” he shrugs off his blue hoodie, pulling it over your shoulders.

“Oh! You don’t need to do that Sans! You’ve been too nice!” he shakes his head, pulling you closer to his warm body. Instinctively, you can’t help but huddle closer to him. He’s like a furnace! You duck your head into his chest. ‘Go big or go home’, you think, silently hoping you don’t overstep some boundary, that Sans doesn’t snap to his senses and toss you to the curb. 

Your heart quickens as Sans raises his arm, you tense, readying for him to shove you away. His arm tucks against your back, holding you tightly as he keeps his eyelights focused on the T.V. 

The quiet pattering of Papyrus, the soft sounds of the T.V and Sans own chest rising and falling lulls you quickly. His hand rubs your back in small circles; easing you into a comfortable rest. 

Snores and unintelligible grumbles fill the living room as you and Sans lean up against one another in a comfortable sleep, holding one another tightly as you did. 

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

[gwynbleiddyn]

keep the wave and keep the wind;

an oc kiss week 2025 prompt fill featuring @jubb-jubb's delightfully enigmatic Ariel <3 loosely based on the prompt 'caught' with a touch of The Rituals™ about it. set in an au of some kind where Kerros and Ariel both find themselves tangled with the Veilguard, undertaking a Hail Mary plan to save Treviso which sends them to Rivain in an attempt to disrupt the Antaam fleets across Rialto Bay. recommended listening:

---

It is a soft summer night on Dhavan’an’s shores, the kind where the seabreeze is a gentle balm and the waters lap at white sand in whispers and promises of an equally pleasant dawn. In Dhavan’an’s harbour the lanterns swing, illuminating the many ships moored along its expanse. Among them, the imposing silhouette of the Howling Boeric looms, still and mostly empty.

Kerros stalks the quiet jetty, his thoughts ceaseless in the vast and echoing chambers of the nighttime. He’s glad to be home for a brief respite from… well, everything, it feels like, but his contemplations remain firmly in the midst of the world’s ending. So much so, that he hardly takes note of the lone figure stood on the deck of the Boeric, braced against her railings as they stare down into inky waters. 

He assumes it’s a lone crew member at first, trying to fix a problem before the captain finds it come morning, and pays them no mind as he steps aboard. His boots are heavy on the wood. Too heavy - he’s no Crow, after all - and the creaking underfoot alerts the stranger who turns their head to identify the intruder. Kerros catches twin flashes of pale grey eyes set within a face like a waning moon, slender and sharp, and Kerros’ mouth twists into a smile.

“Ariel? I know you’re eager to pay the Antaam a visit, but you’re about twelve hours too early.”

Ariel’s shoulders shrug almost imperceptibly in the dark, and his face turns back to the sea. Kerros’ smile falls slack, and he smacks his lips together in mild annoyance at the lack of answer. 

And yet, he walks towards him regardless. It is a recurring theme - Ariel, elusive, strange, covered in the shadow of a Crow’s cloak and indistinguishable from a thousand other blades in the dark, compels Kerros in a way he cannot understand. 

So he tries again, moving ever closer. “Or if you’re that eager to get to work, then the Captain’s probably sampling the vintage in the Compass. Call it overtime.” 

Silence.

Kerros’ brow grows heavy with suspicion. What is he doing? What’s he hiding? Crows don’t fly idly, in his experience, and Ariel’s association is the only thing he truly knows about him. Ducking under the mainmast rigging, Kerros cranes his neck and slows his step to try and get a bead on Ariel’s strangeness - a task that continues to be utterly impossible, no matter Kerros’ proximity. 

But he gets close enough to see Ariel’s rigid posture, which is the first sign of something wrong. Ariel’s elusive nature isn’t just a facet of his personality, his entire physique seems to lend itself to slipping out of trouble in combat like a dancer without a care. He’s languid. He drapes himself over furniture and climbs the rafters in the Lighthouse like his life depends on it. 

So to see him stood here like stone? Kerros begins to wonder what carved him. 

He sidles up to the rail, turning his back to the sea as he rests his elbows against the wood and turns his gaze on Ariel. 

“Is everything okay?” It feels like a silly question to ask now that he can see the man’s face. Tortured isn’t the word. It’s… vacuous. Empty. The sea holds his colourless stare and drinks the colour from his skin. 

Kerros receives no reply, which he expects, but with his back to the sea he fails to notice exactly what Ariel is watching until it hits the boat.

His legs adjust to the cresting wave with ease - he’s walked these boards since he could stand - and a laugh bubbles up in his throat only to be cut short by a gasp as Ariel lurches over the rail. 

“Hey–!” Kerros reaches out, grabbing the back of Ariel’s thin shirt. His fingers twist into the fabric and he pulls him away from the railing – a little too hard, as Ariel thumps backwards into his chest, where he stays, frozen. At first, Kerros thinks the ringing hammer in his ears is the adrenaline surging, but the sea is home to him and his heart is a steadying ballast, its rhythm rarely upended. 

So he listens closer. 

His hand unfurls from Ariel’s shirt, pressing flat against his back. thumpthumpthumpthump– 

Has he trapped a hummingbird inside the bare forest of his ribs? Is there a horde of stampeding halla held within the confines of his landscape? Kerros’ hand thrums with the beat of erratic energy pouring from Ariel. This isn’t right. 

Despite the frenzy trapped inside his body, Ariel remains stone still. And his eyes are are fixed on the sea.

Perhaps he contains unexpected multitudes, or perhaps the sea has laid claim to both body and mind, leaving him to drown ashore.

“Ariel.” Kerros doesn’t command, but he moves with enough purpose to turn Ariel away from the water and breaks his line of sight. Almost as soon as he does, Ariel’s stone-etched face slackens with a gasp that wracks his body, curves him inwards like the moon, and Kerros catches him as though it were the easiest thing in the world. 

Slowly, surely, Ariel’s rapid heartbeat begins to descend from its hummingbird crescendo. He mumbles something, it sounds Orlesian, but it’s lost in a groan as fingers dig suddenly into Kerros’ forearms hard enough to leave welts.

“Fuck!” 

So he can talk. 

“Yeah,” Kerros says to Ariel’s bowed head. “It takes a while to get your sea legs.” 

Another groan. Ariel shakes his head. Kerros’ forearms are burning. 

“Don’t need ‘em. Don’t want ‘em– give me a second,” Ariel stumbles through his words like a man falling headlong into dirt. Or the sea, in this case. Kerros almost feels bad. He tentatively squeezes Ariel’s elbows, thumb brushing over bone and skin with quiet instinct. It’s fine, he wants to say, but is it? They’re still on a rocking boat, the sea playing its undulating song while Ariel shivers and shudders beneath it. 

But Ariel’s ‘one second’ stretches into ten, and thirty, and eventually a minute passes. His breathing doesn’t settle. His chest shudders in fits and starts on certain breaths that seem to get caught on the hook of his fear, and pulled back from the brink of calm each time. 

A breath. Two-three-four– another breath. Two-three-four. He gasps again. Kerros frowns, losing count as Ariel’s nails dig into his arm again. He’s surprised his skin hasn’t broken beneath them yet.

They can’t stay like this all night. Kerros swallows down his frustration, his confusion, and clears his mind for thoughts of rhythm. Repetition. Things he can follow in sequence, easy and reassuring, and in his mind’s eye he sees himself on the open ocean with sunlight on his skin and a song on his lips. A working tune, a rhythmic hum that would push a sailor through any storm – even one of their own making. 

The beat is easy to drum along Ariel’s elbows, fingers tap-tap-tapping along bone and sinew, tremors across moonlit skin. The tune follows in a quiet, uncertain hum. Kerros has no idea if this will work, and if it doesn’t, he’d strongly consider throwing himself into the sea rather than face judgement. 

It’s an old Orlesian shanty, Kerros recalls his grandfather saying. But compared to the Orlesian he hears now, it doesn’t seem as… polished. That is the nature of seafarers, he supposes.

He taps with every third syllable along Ariel’s arms, and slowly, gently, the gasping subsides, replaced with steady, even breaths. In and out. Over and over. Haul away.

“Didn’t have you down for a singer,” Ariel croaks at last. Kerros’ tune judders to a halt, eking out with an awkward, embarrassed laugh. He can feel his ears burning red. Nighttime is a small mercy.

“Yeah, well,” he clears his throat, “me neither. Helped though, didn’t it?”

“Yeah… yeah, it did.” Ariel blinks up at him. 

Now what? 

He should move. Give Ariel some space. That seems like the logical next step. But Kerros is caught in tricky talons.

“You don’t speak Orlesian,” Ariel points out after a moment. Blunt. A closed fist to the gut. Was it that bad? Kerros licks his lips, hiding his embarrassment with another quiet laugh as he attempts to step backwards, but his arms are held tight. 

“No. I mean… I know pieces. Words, really. I asked gra– um, the Captain, about the song when he taught me, he says they used to have a sailor from Orlais who taught them. He wasn’t fancy, or rich, or… you know, well-spoken. Had a way of being that wasn’t really up to Val Royeaux standards, I guess.”

There’s something quiet and quizzical in Ariel’s gaze, unspoken, and it passes on the breeze as his eyes crinkle with a faint smile. Kerros returns his own, uncertain.

“Well, I like it. You should sing more often.” The last of Ariel’s anxiety seems to quell with the tide, his boldness washed up on shore instead. ”To me, specifically. In really bad Orlesian.” 

“That’s… I’m sure that’s nobody’s idea of fun,” Kerros mumbles, blinking too quickly, trying to fix his eyes on something else less able to see the mess of thoughts going on behind his own. 

With a laugh like broken glass, Ariel reels backwards–

“Ow!” 

Kerros’ necklace tugs roughly at his skin in tandem with Ariel’s grunt of pain, and he fumbles for the offending tangle - a few errant strands of hair have twisted around a thin gold chain. 

“Wait–wait, hold on,” Kerros mumbles, apologetic, embarrassed, feeling ever more flustered the longer he stays here not knowing what to say or do in the presence of somebody that seems to always know his next move. Or is it the opposite, in fact? A strange boon to be known by the unknown, instead?

Ugh. He untangles the strand with careful fingers, wondering if he should have just gone to the Compass with Amrun instead.

“You got it,” Ariel hums, almost too close for comfort. His breath tickles Kerros’ collarbone, the flimsy material of his linen shirt doing nothing to keep it at bay. 

Eventually, Kerros unbinds them, and he lets the strand of hair fall from his rough fingers. Seafoam, as though the shore has claimed Ariel as its tenuous boundary - the line it draws when it wishes to retreat. And for a moment when Kerros drinks in the air with a deep, steadying breath, he finds himself drawn to the shoreline’s edge too. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Ariel quips, the moment shattering around them. Kerros’ eyes flicker down to where his hand is frozen now at the knife-edge of Ariel’s face. 

“Hardly,” he mumbles, and he can hear the fascination in his own voice - which disturbs him more than the gentle, simmering urge to reach out. He is reminded of a brief lifetime of nicked thumbs and fingers, pricked by the bite of an irresistible blade. 

The trouble is, it has never stopped him before. It is unlikely to now.

“You can, you know?” Ariel cocks his head. Kerros can feel the gentle warmth on his skin. “I don’t bite–”

“Unless I want you to?” Kerros half-smiles, already seeing the words take shape before they ever left Ariel’s mouth. “You need better lines. I’ve heard this a thousand times before.”

“And has it worked a thousand times before?” Ariel challenges. “Or do you leave them hanging every time?”

Kerros’ hand settles on Ariel’s jaw with a growl of annoyance, thumb settling in the divot below his lip as if that might help keep his mouth shut. His fingers note the careful carvings on Ariel’s skin, however, and the undeniable shape of the elegant scarification sends his frustration toppling over in favour of burgeoning curiosity. 

He wants to ask question upon question. Where did he get these? Did he choose them? Does he know how they frame his sharpened gaze, the way a crossguard decorates a dagger? There is so much about Ariel that evades him, and he is torn between maintaining a healthy distance or enabling a dangerous indulgence. 

Before any question can leave Kerros’ mouth, there are gentle lips on his own. A little off-kilter, a little unsure, but undeniably present.

Kerros freezes. 

Rivain’s warm night air turns his skin to goosebumps in short order, and he is sure this will take the shape of a strange and unknowable dream any moment now.

Except it doesn’t, and Kerros hasn’t moved an inch in a few too many seconds that are growing colder by the minute as Ariel restores their distance as quickly as he’d closed it, and pale grey eyes regard him with quiet contemplation. Studious fascination. Kerros feels he is being observed by the keen-taloned Crow that he happens to be standing too close to, and not the unravelling man he’d turned away from the sea only moments ago out of kindness. 

“Are you still here?” Ariel asks, uncertain, unknowing, and Kerros gets the sense that he is already looking for a way out, and the thought of Ariel leaving twists Kerros’ stomach into knots, sinking rapidly beneath the sea below at the behest of an unseen anchor. 

“Um…” Kerros swallows, blinks, and closes the distance again. He kisses Ariel back, this time with more intent, a better trajectory, and with a thousand more questions bubbling in the back of his throat. The rush of blood to his head puts thunder in his ears, drowning out every sound of the sea until his senses are nothing but Ariel, and he begins to understand a little of Ariel’s fear. It is all-encompassing, and overwhelming, and it is so hard to breathe–

The boat lurches beneath them. Ariel gasps, seizing up, breaking off, his hands flying to the ropes either side of them as his eyes flash wide with cold, unrelenting fear. 

“A wave,” Kerros says, planting his arms either side of Ariel on the ship railing, encircling him. “It won’t reach you up here. Promise. Listen, listen…”

The unexpected swell recedes, and the passing wave crashes behind them on the shore, its end playing out in a rushing sigh.

“Gone.” Kerros seeks out Ariel’s gaze, trying to gauge where he’s at, trying to decide if he should let him go. 

Ariel blinks, nodding slowly, and one by one his fingers unfurl from the ropes. They settle slowly at Kerros’s shoulders, creeping up and up to his neck and his jaw, pale and gentle fingers digging into warm skin as he seeks out solid, dependable ground to land on.

He repeats, quiet and breathless, but very much present, “Gone.”

[thecelestiallegacies]

Rose Colored Twilight 2: The Spellcaster's Apprentice [ Prologue ] Read Part 1 Start This Short Start This Gen Simmers for St. Jude

True to form, it was well past midnight before Rhea had her opening.

The campsite had quieted—the low murmur of voices replaced by the gentle crackle of dying embers and the occasional sigh of canvas in the breeze. Cliff’s violin had long since fallen silent. She pulled on her jacket, laced her boots tight, and slipped past the tents like a shadow.

Darkness was no enemy. She was born to the water, and the moonlight was kind to those who knew how to listen.

The forest whispered in hushed tones as she walked—rustling leaves, snapping twigs, and the distant croak of frogs rising in a nighttime symphony. Eventually, she came to a glistening waterfall spilling into a quiet pond, the sound of it steady and soothing. She slipped off her boots and dipped her toes into the water, shivering at the chill.

She thought of what the god Lani had once told her: All bodies of water are connected. Ask the current; it remembers everything.

She pulled out her conch shell and gave it a strong, echoing blow.

The sound rippled across the water, and moments later, the surface broke with movement—shimmering fish swimming in lazy spirals, gathering as if summoned for counsel. Rhea crouched by the shore, speaking softly, asking the way.

The fish answered not in words, but in visions of the deep woods, strange bioluminescent fish with flickering scales, winding trails, and a path veiled by brambles across the pond.

There was danger, they warned. Thicket and thorn. Teeth in the dark.

But wonder, too.

Rhea stood and crossed the pond, clothes damp from the mist. Her legs bore scratches within minutes as she pushed into the underbrush. The brambles tugged at her sleeves and hair like greedy fingers, but she pressed forward, parting the foliage with the determination of someone who couldn’t turn back.

Then—a web. Wide, silver, and strung across her path like a curtain. She hesitated, hoping not to see the spider that built it. Still, she gritted her teeth and ducked through, wiping silken threads from her face.

Something was calling her forward.

Eventually, the oppressive trees began to part. The air shifted. The light, too. She stepped out into a quiet, sacred cove, a hush descending like a blessing.

Nestled at the heart of it was a small house, sunbeams piercing through the trees to wrap the structure in gold.

Rhea blinked. “Someone… lives here?”

The front door creaked open, and a woman stepped out, her long brown ponytail swinging with the motion.

“Come inside,” the woman said. “You’ll catch a draft.”

Her name was Arjuna Corbett. She made tea with leaves Rhea didn’t recognize and asked gentle questions with no expectation of answers. Her home was warm, carved into the land rather than built atop it, and the walls were covered in pressed flowers, dried herbs, and little sketches of animals.

They spoke in murmurs about the legends of the woods, the hidden places only the forest remembers. Arjuna knew things no one should’ve known—like the storm the night Rhea was born, how the lightning split trees in two, and the rain fell in sheets over the pools of Granite Falls.

“Children born in storms are often called to great purpose,” Arjuna had said, eyes distant.

Later, when the day had fully bloomed and the sun sat high and hot above the treetops, they stepped outside. Rhea felt stretched thin, like a string of light humming with energy. The air was clearer here. Sharper.

She pulled out her phone to check the time.

It buzzed immediately—her Aunt Varsana.

Rhea sighed and answered.

Varsana’s voice was strained. “Your dad is very upset. It took a lot of convincing to get him to let me call instead.”

Rhea let the words hang between them, the disappointment like fog in her lungs. She didn’t argue. The message was clear: come back.

But not yet.

Rhea returned attention to the pond, calling the fish once more. Arjuna joined her, lines cast out into the quiet, letting the silence do the talking.

A rainbow arched over the waterfall, refracted through the mist and morning light. Rhea laughed aloud when she reeled in a rare blue crawdad—its shimmering shell reminding her of her father Zachary and his sparkling cerulean fish tail.

She didn’t know what was happening back at camp. But for the first time in a while, she trusted that it would be okay.

The forest had calmed her. Focused her.

“I think you’re ready,” Arjuna said softly as they stood side by side. “You’ve come a long way for such a young heart.”

They spoke again, this time of fate—of a prophecy Rhea hadn’t heard until now. It shook something loose inside her. Something dormant and waiting.

The sun dipped lower. The stars pricked the sky.

Rhea looked up, breath caught in her throat. Anything felt possible.

Still no sign of the rainbow fireflies. She let out a sigh, accepting their absence.

“It’s time,” she said quietly.

She turned to say goodbye—only to find the cove empty. The house. Arjuna. Gone.

No footprints. No doors.

The clearing was still beautiful, but the dream had slipped between the trees.

Rhea stood there a moment longer before retracing her steps. The brambles parted easier now, the way out somehow gentler than the way in.

She didn’t understand everything that had just happened.

But she was changed by it.