nullaby-writes

[nullaby-writes]

You’ve been sentenced to 400 years for multiple murders. It’s been 399 years and your jailers are starting to get nervous.

[nullaby-writes]

Hey, hey~

Posting in a desperate attempt to find new people to write with! I'm 25f, and prefer all prospective partners to be 20+.

I like oc fiction! So ocs in an oc world. High fantasy is too hard to organize for casual discord rp, though.;;

Urban fantasy is my favorite. Let's do werewolf drama! Vampires!! Demons!!! I'm down for any of it-- the weirder the better. (As a monsterfucker, I mean that.)

My favorite genres are romance and family-oriented stories. Both kid-fics and found family are my JAM. Horror and dark themes are A-ok.

For romance, I prefer either mm or ff.

Erp is fine, but h scenes need to crop up organically. I want to build cool characters and interesting stories. Erp is secondary to that-- I don't want it to be the majority of what is done, y'know?

I tend to write in a shorter/snappier style. Usually just 2 - 3 paragraphs once a scene has been established. I don't want to read 5 pages attached to every sentence of dialogue.

Good grammar is a must.

I rp exclusively on discord.

I'm an adult, you're an adult. Let's be adults. Clear communication and ooc maturity is a must! No ooc/ic blurring! If the plot is going somewhere you don't like, speak up!! I, as the kids say, am not a mind reader. ;w;

If you're interested, please hit me up! Let's b friends and scream about our ocs!!

[nullaby-writes]

You’re a daycare worker, watching over toddlers, when the imminent end of the world is announced. It becomes increasingly clear none of the kids’ parents are going to show up as the end inches nearer.

[nullaby-writes]

TW: Blood, death, serial killers.

           The man loved a good hunt.

           He watched the small cabin with a little smile on his face. He stalked this one for close to a month. He loved the look of her. Soft blonde curls and a smile that lit up the whole room. He wanted to cut it off her face and keep it for himself. In his pocket if he could. With his help, she’d always be smiling.

           The man squatted near the edge of the woods. He didn’t bother with a mask. No, there were no cameras out here. Normally he made angels in parking garages and dark alleys. It would be so refreshing to do this without anything between him and his angel.

           The full moon illuminated the soft grass around her cabin. She sat in the front window with a cup of tea in her hands. He knew it was tea because he’d broken into her home a few days prior. At first he thought she might notice, since she threw the tea he opened away, but he shook his head. That couldn’t be true. He didn’t leave any hints behind. Maybe she changed her mind about what flavor she liked? Maybe she got it as a gift and never liked that one at all. He didn’t know. He did know that she only drank tea, though.

          Dozens upon dozens of jars of tea lined her pantry. There were wooden figurines on the shelves and soft floral throw pillows. He wanted to stay in her space forever. He knew he couldn’t, though. He would have to settle for one perfect night with her.

           She vanished from the window before long. His hand found one of his knives and he took it firmly in his hand. Excitement rushed through his system. Better than any drug or sex. So pure. Unsullied by the world around it. Perfect.

           Just as he rose to sneak closer, the lights in the house flicked off. He smiled. Must be going to bed.

           He stilled when the front door opened. He moved behind a tree. Footsteps creaked on the old wood of the front porch. He’d have to use a window to get inside.

           “Hey,” she called. “Come out. I know you’re there.”

           His hand tightened on his knife. Could it be she saw him from the window? That was impossible. She couldn’t see in the dark. What gave him away?

           Her laugh, far more bitter than he’d ever heard, spread over the air between them. “You’re behind the fucking tree,” she snapped. “I hear your breathing. Come out.”

           Carefully, he stepped around the side of the tree. She stood before him, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked even more beautiful up close. Her warm brown eyes seemed almost golden in the darkness. Surely, a play on the light.

           “When did you notice me?” he asked, curious.

           The woman’s lips twitched. She smirked at him. “The first time you followed me off the train,” she reasoned. His eyes went wide. What? Surely she couldn’t have been aware of him that long. She had to be lying. He stalked her for nearly a month before tonight. There was no way she’d been aware of him all that time.

           She laughed at him. His blood boiled. This wasn’t right. She was supposed to cry. Beg. Blossom right before his eyes as he made her into the smiling angel she was always supposed to be.

           He took a step forward.

           The woman’s smile spread farther. “Are you going to try to hurt me?” she asked. Her eyes flickered to his hand.

           He raised his knife. “I’m going to make you into an angel,” he told her confidently.

           She laughed. “I’m no angel,” she said wryly. On that they could agree. She wasn’t an angel. Not yet. But he would get her there.

           “Are you going to run?” he asked her. She didn’t have any shoes on, but she got tense when he took another step. Like she wanted to bolt into the trees.

           “No,” she said. “You are.”

           He paused. “What?” he asked.

           The woman tipped her face to the sky. The silver light covered her beautiful face. She smiled, and her teeth seemed sharper in the moonlight. “Maybe we’re alike,” she murmured after a quiet moment. “I love blood.”

           The man frowned. She wanted to hunt him? Make him bleed? He laughed. “You can’t hurt me,” he said. She was a woman. Small. Fragile. Barely five feet tall. She couldn’t kill him. Not without a gun.

           She just shrugged. “You’re wrong,” she said. She rolled her shoulders and smiled at him. Broad this time. Not hiding any teeth. “Well. I suppose we aren’t that alike. You’re weak. Hunting women who can’t fight back.” She flicked her eyes over his body. He had the insane urge to shrink away from her gaze. “I like it when they deserve it.”

           “What?” he asked. What was she on about? Did his angel think herself some kind of fighter?

           She waved a hand at him. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I don’t need to explain myself to you. You’ll be dead in a minute, anyway.”

           He started to laugh, but he stopped the moment the first snap echoed between them. His angel hunched over. He watched in horror as her bones wriggled beneath her skin. Her entire body shook and spasmed. She shivered and fell to her hands and knees.

           The man couldn’t move from his spot next to the tree as golden hair spread over her body. He didn’t know what he was looking at until her snout rose to the air and she howled to the moon above her.

           Bright, golden eyes leveled with him.

           A shiver ran down his spine.

           This was no angel. A predator. Some kind of demon.

           Run, a woman’s voice whispered on the wind.

           The man turned and sprinted through the underbrush. He crashed through bushes. Branches slapped him in the face as he made a run for it. No matter how hard he ran, he could still hear the wolf at his ankles. He wouldn’t turn around. Couldn’t look behind him. Something tugged at his coat. She nipped him. Then the wolf sounded like it was laughing.

           He ran faster. Surely he would be at his car at any moment. He parked on the other side of her little grove of trees.

           The man broke from the tree line. He found his car.

           And a dozen more wolves.

           They circled him immediately.

           “Please,” he said.

           Golden eyes danced with mirth. Barking laughter filled the little clearing. He eyed the service road. No one drove up this way. Just hours ago he thought that was perfect.

           No one would come to stop him from creating an angel.

           Now, he realized, no one would save him from these monsters.

           He screamed as teeth bit into his ankle. The first wolf dragged him to the floor. He stared up above him, crying out in fear and pain as the wolves closed in. They came for his limbs, first. Jaws shook and teeth bit and the moon cast her spotlight on all of them.

           The last thing he heard was that horrid, barking laughter.

----- 

           Annalise wiped blood from her mouth. She spat into the dew-covered grass. A short hunt. She hoped he would at least fight back. His kind rarely did, though. They weren’t real predators. Not like the wolves. No, they were just vile men. Humans who took advantage of the softer people around them. They deserved the justice the pack delivered.

           “You good, Anna?” James, her alpha, asked. He put a soothing hand on the back of her neck.

           Annalise nodded. “Feels nice to get rid of the trash,” she mused. She leaned into his touch. It grounded her.

           He laughed fondly. “You did good today,” he praised.

           Annalise preened. She didn’t often provide the entertainment for full moon hunts. Usually the enforcers provided the trash. The wolves needed it. The thrill of a fresh kill. Most packs just hunted animals. It was safer. Didn’t bring the human laws down on them.

           Annalise loved her pack. They didn’t always hunt criminals. James had a strict code on what they could and couldn’t hunt. He wouldn’t make exceptions just because they didn’t find someone before the full moon arrived. But he fed them when he could.

           Maggie came up and took Annalise’s hand. She kissed her cheek. “That was fun,” she said. A blush of blood covered her freckled cheeks.

           James chuckled. “You just like it when we hunt serial killers.”

           “It’s wicked cool!” Maggie argued. “We’ve killed more serial killers this year than have been arrested in our area, alpha. We’re doing the world a favor.”

           James reached over and patted her head. “That’s right,” he agreed.

           Annalise smiled. “We should get home,” she said. “The sun is going to rise soon. I’m exhausted.”

           James glanced across the field. Aiden raised his snout and huffed. He was on cleanup with May. The two of them trotted over and shifted. “All done, alpha,” Aiden reported.

           James clapped both Aiden and May on the shoulder. He grinned at them. “Thank you,” he said. The rest of the pack stood nearby in little clusters. A few of the younger members were already asleep. Some still had fur. They were interspersed with naked, human flesh. The younger wolves always conked out after a hunt. Their bodies weren’t adjusted to the wolves’ adrenaline. They crashed.

           “Good one, Anna,” May praised, smiling at her.

           Aiden nodded. “Clean, too.”

           Annalise perked. “Happy to deliver,” she said honestly. Maggie leaned into Annalise’s side. She yawned. She smiled down at her. “Sleepy?” she teased.

           Maggie blushed. “No,” she mumbled.

           “Let’s go home,” James said.

           The pack followed him into the woods. They shifted as they went. Paws rained against the soil as they ran through the thick brush. Annalise started up the howl.

           She loved a good hunt.

A serial killer attempts to kill a group of teens in a log cabin, unaware that they are werewolves, and the full moon is about to come out.

[nullaby-writes]

TW for mild violence.

He sat with his back to the wall in the kitchen with his eyes closed.

In.

Out.

Just breathe, Thomas.

He could do this.  Thomas told himself just that, over and over and over.  His parents believed in him.  The students he worked with at the local elementary school thought he was great. His coworkers were constantly impressed with him.

Thomas could do this.

He just had to wait until Gavin got back.  Then everything would be okay.  Gavin always made everything okay.

Deep breaths.

The wolf snarled and bodily slammed into the front door again.

Thomas squeaked.

He couldn’t do this—oh, God, he couldn’t do this.

That thing was going to break in and rip him apart and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it.  Thomas slid down the wall until his butt hit the cold kitchen tile.  What could he even do?  He was going to get mauled by some animal and die terribly and—

Thomas perked up as the wheels of Gavin’s car sounded in the gravel driveway.

Things would be okay now, right?  Gavin was a strong man.  He protected Thomas before, when they were younger.  He always looked out for Thomas.  Thomas loved him.  He was an asshole and kind of a jerk, but he always had Thomas in mind.

And now he was outside with the wolf.

Oh, God.

OH, God.

Thomas sprinted to the front door.  He yanked on the front knob and the cold night air assaulted his senses.

“Gavin—!” he cried.

Thomas hit his back.  His head rang.  Heavy paws pressed him into the flooring.

Thomas blinked up at white teeth.

Shit.

Thomas whimpered and the huge brown wolf cocked its head to the side in response.

“Get the fuck off him!” Gavin screamed from the drive.

The wolf whipped around and snarled, low in its throat.  The creature actually got off Thomas, and he scrambled to pull himself together.

Through blurry vision, Thomas stared at the wolf’s hind legs as it stared Gavin down.

Gavin looked like he always did—mechanic’s overalls, stained with grease and five o’clock shadow that stained his chin like the coffee beaded on his collar. Thomas didn’t recognize the heavy pistol resting in his palm.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Gavin demanded, staring level with the wolf.  “I told you that if you ever came back I would kill you.”

“Gavin—” Thomas began.

“Be quiet, Tommy,” Gavin snapped.  “Just stay there.”  Gavin drew back the hammer.  “I said I would take your fucking head if I ever saw you again, Anthony.”

The wolf—apparently named Anthony—growled again.

Thomas blinked at the creature’s hind legs in confusion.  Thick white scars dotted Anthony’s spine and circled his thighs.  Thomas frowned.  Something seemed off about the wolf.

“Don’t growl at me,” Gavin complained.  “I’ll give you a chance to explain yourself.  Just one.  Shift, Anthony.  Or I pull the trigger right now.  This is silver—you’ll be dead before you hit the ground.”

Something snapped and something else popped and then Thomas stared at the butt of a very alive and very much not a fucking wolf man’s ass.

What?

What.

Thomas felt the panic rise in his chest.

The wolf-man—werewolf—gave Thomas a wary glance from over his shoulder. Anthony’s eyes were bright, icy blue. They were… really, really pretty, actually.

And oh, God, Thomas now is not the time to be checking someone out.

“Why are you here?” Gavin demanded.

Anthony shrugged.  “I told you,” he said in a rough voice, “I would never forget the way to your front door.”

Gavin scowled.  “And?”

“You left me for dead,” Anthony said flatly.  “I almost died because of you, Gavin.”

Gavin flinched.

Thomas stared.

Apparently, judging by the look on his face, Gavin wasn’t at all surprised at the fact that there were apparently fucking wolf-shifting people just… around.  Thomas felt like he was either stuck in some kind of weird hallucinogenic fever dream or finally crazy.  Neither were a preferred option.

“Um,” Thomas said.

“Be quiet,” Gavin said again.

Anthony huffed.  “I see you’re still talking down to the people around you,” he drawled.  “Does the pack know you’ve shacked up with a human?”

Pack?

PACK?

Thomas squawked.  He may be losing his mind and trying to actively re-process his entire world view, but even through that, he knew that meant that Gavin was whatever the fuck the naked Anthony was.  Probably.

“It doesn’t matter,” Gavin said shortly.  “You’re a ghost, aren’t you?  Nobody thinks you’re alive, Anthony.  What will the pack do when they find out you shifted in front of a human?  Who do you think will get in trouble, of the two of us?  You, some nobody with no past and certainly no future?  Or me?”  Gavin grinned.  Thomas found himself feeling a little sick.

Anthony glanced at Thomas, and Gavin actually growled. “I don’t think your little human is going to stick around, Gavin.”

“Shut up.  You don’t know anything about him,” Gavin snapped.  “Leave, Anthony.  I’ll give you one chance.”

Anthony laughed.  Thomas didn’t like that sound, either.

“What happened to me being a sinner?” Anthony asked. His spread his arms wide, taunting Gavin.  “Go ahead. Shoot me.  Weren’t you always going to kill me?  I’m just some rogue wolf at your door.  Right, Gavin?  You’d be well within your rights.  Why are you hesitating?”

Gavin swore and his gun wavered.  His eyes darted to Thomas.

“What do you want, Anthony?” he asked.

Anthony smiled in triumph.  Thomas wondered if it was because Gavin put the gun down, or because he just liked seeing Gavin upset.  Thomas could bet the farm on either option and still feel pretty confident in his choice. Gavin inspired hatred in other people. Thomas still loved him, though.

“I want what I’ve always wanted,” Anthony said.  “Tell everyone the truth, Gavin.  Tell them what you did.  Tell them about your lies.”

Gavin raised the gun again, his jaw locked like steel.  “No,” he murmured.  Gavin spoke so quietly, Thomas almost missed it.

Anthony barked a laugh.  “You’ll continue to break pack law?  God, at this rate, you’ll seriously be going to hell—”

The gunshot rang so loudly through the doorway Thomas distantly wondered if he would ever hear again.

When Gavin said, “I’ll see you there.” Thomas had his answer.

Thomas blinked between Anthony’s spaseming body as he died, and the smoking gun still held in Gavin’s strong grip.  Thomas threw up all over himself.

“Damnit, Tommy,” Gavin complained.  He put the gun away in the back of his pants like some kind of action movie star and calmly walked over the body of the very dead man who was fucking bleeding out on Thomas’s front porch and oh my god they were both going to jail—

Gavin snapped his fingers in front of Thomas’s face.

“Hey, Thomas,” he said gently, “calm down.  Focus on me.”

Thomas nodded blearily.

“Are you alright?” Gavin asked.  “Did he hurt you anywhere?”

Thomas shook his head.

Gavin raised a brow.

“I think I’m in shock,” Thomas rasped.

Gavin smiled, just a little.  “I would be more worried if you weren’t.”  He put a hand cooled by the night air against Thomas’s cheek.  It was nice.  Calming.  With Gavin kneeling between his legs, Thomas couldn’t see the dead man-wolf-thing on their porch.

“I kind of feel like I might throw up again,” Thomas said.

Gavin ran a hand through his work-greased hair.  “I’m going to move his body now,” Gavin said.  “Will you be okay long enough for me to put you on the couch?”

Thomas shook his head, but Gavin picked him up and put him inside anyway.

Oh, god, the super-sexy strength that Gavin used to throw him around was totally a preternatural thing, wasn’t it?  Thomas had to have the stupidest instincts ever. He liked it when Gavin bit him and threw him around.  He thought that Anthony guy was hot too.

Damnit.

Thomas stared at his hands.

Oh, God, oh God.

He was so, so royally fucked.

He was an accomplice to murder now.

He was going to prison.

He wouldn’t make it in prison! He was way too fragile and nice and—

“You need to calm down, babe,” Gavin said.

Thomas caught a glance of the body-free porch.  He didn’t know how long he zoned out on the couch, but Gavin took the time to change clothes and rid the body of their unexpected guest. Thomas couldn’t even see blood on the wood anymore.

Oh shit, Thomas realized, he knows how to clean up a body.  I married some kind of fucking mass murderer or something, didn’t I?

“Hey,” Gavin said gently as he sat on the couch, “Come back to me, baby. Where’d you go?”

“Are you a serial killer?” Thomas blurted.

Gavin stared at him for a long moment, then threw his head back and practically howled with laughter.  “You just watched me kill a werewolf and your first question is whether or not I’m a serial killer? God, baby, there are a few bigger issues here.”

“That isn’t a no,” Thomas accused.

Gavin snorted.  “No,” he said.  “I’m not a serial killer.”

Thomas hugged his legs and plopped his chin against his knees.  “Are you a uh…”

“Werewolf?” Gavin prompted, a little glitter of mischief in his eyes.

Thomas nodded.

Gavin smirked, and the wonderful chocolate brown of his eyes flashed bright gold for a moment.  Thomas blinked rapidly, thinking that he might have missed it.  “You’re adorable when you’re confused,” Gavin murmured.  He ruffled Thomas’s hair.  “Yes, Tommy.  I’m a wolf.”

“Oh,” Thomas said.

Gavin snorted.  “I’ll answer any questions you have, babe.”  He reached out and squeezed Thomas’s fingers, and Thomas squeezed right back.  Instinct, after so many years spent together.  So many years together and Thomas didn’t know that his husband wasn’t even human.

Hurt panged in his chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Thomas asked.

Gavin sighed.  “It’s against pack law,” he said.  “’Course, now that you know, I can tell you anything.  It’s Anthony’s fault you found out, but he’s already dead so…” Gavin shrugged. “I don’t think I’ll get in trouble.”

“Oh,” Thomas said.

Gavin smiled warmly, but Thomas saw the fear in his eyes.  He hadn’t looked like this since he showed up at Thomas’s dorm room in the middle of the night in college to confess that he loved Thomas and asked him to be his boyfriend.

He’s scared I’m going to leave, Thomas realized.

“Do you have a pack?” Thomas asked.

Gavin winced.  “No,” he said carefully.

“Why not?” Thomas asked.

“Because I don’t,” he replied tersely.

Thomas frowned.  “You said you would answer all my questions.”

Gavin ran a hand through his hair again.  His only nervous tick.  “I left when I was a teenager, alright?”

“Why?”

Gavin swore.  “You’re really not making his easy.”  Gavin eased off the couch and leaned back on his haunches.  He looked decidedly wolfish, with his sharp features and eyes that glinted in the low light.  “Because I chose you.”

Thomas froze.

“What?”

“I chose you, Thomas,” Gavin said firmly.  He glanced up at Thomas, looking incredibly guilty.  “When I told my dad I asked you to marry me, he told me to choose.  Pack or you. So I chose you.”

Thomas blinked at the husband he wasn’t so sure he knew. Apparently, Gavin’s family was very much alive—which was news to Thomas—but they also didn’t approve of them.

“Is it because we’re gay?” Thomas asked.

That would make sense.  Gavin cried the first time he met Thomas’s parents and the old couple all but smothered him with warmth and affection.

“It’s because you’re human,” Gavin replied. Thomas said, “Oh.” Then, “Are you going to bite me and turn me into a wolf?”

Gavin rolled his eyes dramatically.  “Doesn’t work like that.  I’m a werewolf, not a vampire.”

“There are vampires?” Thomas squeaked.

He felt a little hysterical.

“Oh, baby, baby,” Gavin cooed.  He wrapped Thomas up in his arms.  “I’m not going to let you get hurt.  This is my land, and you’re my pack.  Nothing is going to hurt you.  Not a vampire or a werewolf or fae or anything else, alright?”

Thomas nodded into his shoulder.

Gavin was still… Gavin.

Territorial.  Brash, and kind of a dick, but in the good way.  He made Thomas feel safe.  Always had, since they met as young men.  Thomas felt secure in his arms.

Thomas sucked in a breath.

In.

Out.

And he thought that maybe things would be okay.

“Will you show me your, uh, your wolf?” he asked.

It must have been the right question because Gavin practically glowed with happiness.  He quickly stripped out of his clean clothes and said, “If you faint on me, I’ll be pissed.”

Thomas bobbled a nod as Gavin’s bones rapidly bent and popped and shifted under his skin.  Warm, dark hair like the stuff that covered his head, sprang out of his skin and coated his body.

A big, fluffy wolf sat in their living room.

Thomas reached out and patted Gavin’s head.

Gavin yipped and butted his hand encouragingly with his head.

Even as a wolf, he still seemed like himself.

Gavin’s wolf wasn’t scary like Anthony’s.  He still had gleaming teeth and bright golden eyes, but Thomas knew Gavin wouldn’t hurt him.

Thomas didn’t know where to go from here.  He was just a schoolteacher who liked his small town and curling up with his husband in front of the fire on a cold night.

As Gavin nuzzled Thomas’s face with a warm snout, Thomas hoped that none of that would change.

🖤~Song Of The Day~🖤

The song of the day is:  The Wolf -by- PHILDEL

The challenge is to write something based off of this song, be it the name, the lyrics, or the tune itself. Let your imagination go crazy and see where the music takes you.

Have at it Darlings!

[nullaby-writes]

Mild violence TW; also switched to third person because I don’t like second lmao.  ‘N it’s a little sad. c:

She stared down at the intricate dagger.  It lay conspicuously on the windowsill, glinting in the golden rays of the early morning sun.  Her hand wavered just above it, before she finally reached down and brushed her fingers along the smooth bone.

The bone almost vibrated under her fingers.  The small part of her, still attuned to magic after that terrible day, recognized the low hum in the bone.

The woman tugged her sweater a little closer to her body.

Six years.

She managed to hide for six measly years.

The woman lived peacefully.  She bought a house in a small town and kept to herself.  She only ventured out for food and other necessities. People around town were content to ignore her—to mark her off as some young, weird woman who wanted to hide in nature.  There were a lot of those around these parts.

People didn’t know her name because they never asked.  Even if they did, the woman would never tell them.

She stared at her hands, which hovered over the knife.

Who was she supposed to be?

Her old name didn’t feel right anymore.  It didn’t fit.  None of it fit.

But the knife?

The gifts?

They felt familiar.

They shouldn’t have been able to find her.  Couldn’t have, in fact, unless someone betrayed her.

At first, the woman thought the gifts were from another creature. Something made of teeth and shadows that was drawn to her as all the Others were.  There were few humans who could see them, after all, and even fewer who could touch them and bless them with physical bodies, albeit temporarily.

The first gifts were too small, too inconcequental to belong to the monster that claimed her the night she was born into the world.

The dagger changed that.

The bone’s magic was deep—the kind of magic that only existed before the war that ended six years ago.  Run of the mill Others wouldn’t have access to such a thing.  The power in the blade alone would be enough to drive most magical creatures insane.

But they wouldn’t even be bothered.

Her heart hammered in her chest at the very thought of seeing them again. She promised herself, when she fled in the middle of the night six years ago, that she wouldn’t let herself consider the what ifs.

Now what if stared at her from the window.

She took the dagger outside and placed it on the ground at the bottom of her front steps.  She did the same with all the other grotesque gifts.  They were always inside—on her windowsill or in her fridge or on the other fucking pillow on her bed.

The woman didn’t want to know what they would bring next, since she continued to reject their gifts.

The next morning, a single skull sat in the glorious sunlight.  She couldn’t tell if the skull was from an actual human, or just something pretending to be, but she didn’t take the time to figure it out before she left it all the way at the end of the drive.

The following morning, there were three skulls on the windowsill.

When she put those skulls under a tree at the very edge of the property, her insistent suitor merely returned them the next morning with empty eye sockets stuffed full of pale lilies.

She finally put her foot down a week later, when she awoke to a jar full of very alive and very poisonous snakes on her nightstand.

The woman wrapped herself in her thickest sweater and sat on the porch until the sun vanished behind the tall mountains in the distance.  She put the snakes down on the ground but kept them where she could see them.  The woman was positive her neighbors wouldn’t appreciate them running amok.

She had to face this.

She had to face them.

Even if it would break her heart a little more to send them away.

As the last rays of the violent pink sunset finally faded into a dim afterglow of the setting sun, the creature appeared at the end of the drive.

She hugged her sweater as close as she could as the hulking mass moved toward her.  She didn’t move to stand or even go back inside.  She waited.

Shadows congealed and dragged themselves up the driveway.

“My love,” the creature called, “did you like my gift?”

The woman steeled herself.  It took several tries to find her words, but eventually she managed, “I don’t want your gifts, Llor.”

Llor’s head tipped to the side.  Well.  The mass on top of their body, anyway.  “Why not?” the creature purred.  Llor’s voice always sent shivers racing down her spine to vibrate through her muscles. It was a deep, brassy sound—but it lacked the warmth of a mortal voice.

“I just don’t,” the woman replied stubbornly.

Llor frowned.  She—thankfully—couldn’t see the thing’s face, but she could picture the mess of teeth and rolling globs of shadow that it had in place of eyes looking at her.  Llor silently drifted forward.  “But I love you,” Llor said.  “I’ve looked for you so long, darling one.  Why would we not share gifts on this joyous occasion?”

Her heart hammered in her chest at those words.

The woman pointed at the snakes.  “Take them away.”

Llor raised a hand, tipped with deadly black talons, and tapped the top of the glass jar.  “But they’re for you, my love.”

She rose to her feet, praying to any of the still-living gods that Llor didn’t accidently break the glass and set the serpents free.  “Please,” she managed, “just leave me alone.”

“But why?” Llor asked, with all the innocence of a child despite their age and appearance.

Her heart hammered in her chest.  “Because I don’t love you anymore,” she whispered.

A lie.

A terrible, painful, bloody lie.

She felt the moment Llor reacted to her words.  The shadows that held the creature together seemed to dissipate and fluctuate for a long moment.  Though them, she saw the daunting line of dark trees.

Llor grew shorter, closer to the approximation of a human, and couldn’t seem to stop quivering.  “Is it true?” Llor asked.  “Did you truly run from me?”

She forced herself to nod.

She ran because she had to—not because she wanted to.  She knew a part of her would miss it—miss the excitement of fighting and the conquest of war.  She was raised on it, after all.  The night she ran, with only the moon’s light as her guide, the woman knew her heart would break every day for Llor.

But she was physically incapable of staying by their side.

The wound that tore her soul nearly in two made sure of that.

She and Llor shared a violent and passionate affair.  The creature siphoned her magic and borrowed her body.  In return, the woman lived a hundred years despite looking a quarter of that time and saw the world through the eyes of an Other.

She knew that she would never feel as close to another as she did to Llor—they shared a body for a time, after all—but she couldn’t go back.

Llor made a wounded noise that rose the hair on her arms.  The owl that always hooted through the night immediately silenced.  Even the crickets stopped singing.  Fireflies winked out in a unison blink.

Llor’s scream raised in pitch as the creature rushed her.

She flung her hands above her head, fully aware how powerless she was in the face of the monstrosity on her doorstep, but the hit never came.

When the woman slowly opened her eyes again, Llor stood a breath away.

She stared into those strange, otherworldly approximations of eyes and knew she would never escape.  She was doomed.  Tied to Llor—forever—whether she liked it or not.

Llor did not reach for her, nor did the creature drift farther away.

“What?” the woman asked quietly.

Llor made a discontent sound.  Calmer, suddenly, than it was.

“What changed?” Llor asked.

“What?” she repeated.

Llor inclined its head toward her.  Her skin pulled into goose-bumps as shadows brushed against the skin of her cheek. “You smell different.”

She swallowed.

“What happened to you?” Llor asked again.

The woman held her arms around herself.

“Relia.”

Relia flinched at the name she hadn’t heard in six years.  She certainly didn’t feel like Relia anymore.

“Tell me,” Llor all but growled.

She held out her hand.  Llor’s shadows brushed against her clammy skin, and the creature sucked in a deep breath.

“Your soul,” Llor exclaimed.

Relia quickly pulled away.  “I had to leave,” she said very quietly.  “Because if I didn’t, I would have gotten us both killed.”  She fisted her sweater.  “I can’t fight anymore, Llor.  Gods, I can’t even fucking ward my own house anymore.  I’m useless to you.”

Shadows encased her.

Relia couldn’t cry.  Couldn’t mourn anymore for the life she gave up or the future that was ripped from her with a chunk of her lower intestines and her appendix.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Llor asked very quietly.

Relia forced herself to take a step back, out of the shadows.  “Because if I didn’t, you would have razed the Earth until you found the Other that stole part of my soul.  You can’t do that Llor,” Relia whispered.  “Your people need you.”

Llor was quiet for a long time.

“What if I need you?” they asked.

Relia turned her back on them.  “Your people are more important.”

Llor shifted behind her—though she couldn’t see them.

“Will you answer one question honestly?” Llor asked.

Relia glanced back at the mass of confusing shapes and shadows.  She couldn’t place their mood off their tone—which was always a bad sign.  “I guess,” she mumbled.

“You owe me,” Llor said insistently, “since you left without telling me.”

Relia winced.  She couldn’t argue with that.  “Fine,” she said.  “One question—and then you have to promise to leave.”

She knew what they would ask before they did.

“Do you really not love me anymore?” Llor asked.  “Were you lying?”

Relia looked up at the bright moon, and over the silent trees, and she hated herself.

“I lied,” she said very quietly.

“You love me,” Llor said firmly.

“I do,” Relia whispered.

A tear finally fell down her cheek.  Not for herself—but for Llor.  She ached, and felt it echoed back at her in the creature she loved with her whole heart.

“I love you, too,” Llor said.

Relia watched with her back to her little wooden door as Llor turned and melted back into the shadows without another word.

In a way—they got the goodbye they never had.

But it still hurt.

Relia sat on the porch with tears running down her face until the golden rays of light crept back over the mountains.

Love.

What even was it?

What was it worth if it tore her peaceful rhythm apart?

Relia dreamed of the wars she’d fought—of the lives she’d taken. She told herself for six long years she was doing what she had to do to protect Llor, herself, and their people. She walked away so nobody would die because of her.

Relia let herself cry.  She let herself remember her name.  Who she was.  What she was. What she did.

Relia cried for the life she lost, and the love she gave up.

She thought, that maybe, if Llor ever came back, she would try again.

They could visit her.  Love her, and she could stay in the countryside where it was safe.

But Llor never came back.

Relia continued her quiet life in the countryside where nobody knew her name solely because they never asked.  She would tell them, if only they did.

She mourned every day.

Five years after the jar of spiders appeared at her bedside, Relia woke to an Other’s soul trapped in a cage in her doorway, and Llor’s shadow standing confidently in the shadow of the bedroom door.

For the past 6 weeks, you have woken every morning, to find “gifts” left on your window sill. Sometimes its strings of teeth, some of them animal, and some looking alarmingly human. Sometimes its small carvings, either beads or ornaments, even the occasional comb or instrument. Each and every one is made of bone of some sort, and occasionally decorated or dyed with other natural substances.

This morning, you wake to find a large, elegantly and intricately carved dagger, laid out on your window sill. Again, it’s made of bone, something you have learnt to identify disturbingly quickly as of late. Even the intricately carved sheath is made of bone.

[nullaby-writes]

The villains first instinct upon seeing the hero’s young successor standing on their “doorstep”  at 3 in the morning, was to either slam the door in their face, or just kill them and be done with it. A closer look however, had them pausing, curiosity overwhelming their irritation at being disturbed. 

After a few moments of tense silence, the villain finally spoke, their gaze heavy as they eyed the stiff teen.

“Seeing as that mentor of yours isn’t blasting through my door dramatically, I’m taking it they don’t know you’re here…” 

The teen shook their head quickly in answer, and the villain let out a low thoughtful hum, their curiosity only growing.

“….How did you find me?”

The teen fidgeted in place for a moment as if making sure they were meant to respond, before quickly speaking, their voice a low mumble that even they strained to hear.

“It was pretty simple actually…” The teen answered, giving an awkward little shrug.

The response surprised a laugh from the villain, who watched in amusement as the little future hero jumped at the sound, easily spooked.

“Apparently not for the heroes or the detectives.” They teased.

Narrowing their eyes, they leaned against the door, staring calculatingly at the child before them, delighted that they were so much more fascinating than they had originally assumed. They hadn’t shown even the slightest amount of surprise at their appearance, meaning that they knew far more than just where to find them, far more than any of the so called professionals had managed to scrape together.

“You’ve figured out more than anyone else has, and yet you’re…. Here. There’s something you want.”

The teen seemed to tense even further at their deduction, their hands clenching in the fabric of their hoodie as they shook with nerves. Finally after a few moments of silence, they spoke, voice wavering slightly. 

“You know how to disappear, how to hide and start over someplace else. You’re a master at it.”

The villain raised a brow, letting out a soft hum of acknowledgement as they listened on curiously, wondering where the flattery was headed. Their relaxed posture faltered as the teen finally looked up at them, their face coming into full view for the first time. Suddenly tense and alert, they took in the sight of the bruised and scratched skin, tear stained cheeks, and hollow eyes, an old forgotten ache forming in their chest. 

Looking the villain firmly in the eye, the small teen squared their shoulders, clenching their jaw determinedly.

“Help me disappear. Please. You’ll never have to see me again.”