#black monster sunrise

[chulmanskydi]

Второй блэк монстр САНРАЙЗ милая дувочка получилась, хотя я сейчас сомневаюсь на счёт рюш на шортах

ещё пока рисовала, меня не покидало чувство, что с цветами что-то не так, какие-то они зелёные, а не жёлто-оранжевые. мб мне надо отдохнуть

само отношение к энергосу у меня спицифичное - мне определённо нравится апельсиновый вкус (или какой он там), но я категорично не люблю напитки без сахара, так как они для меня неприятно приторные

[rookshocksshack]

#EldenRing #CavalryKnight is done!!

$5 Digital Hi-rez downloads here; https://ko-fi.com/i/IO4O4MTZU6 Prints available here; Cavalry Knight , an art print by Rooks Moore - INPRNT cant wait to make more merch! looks like theres an INPRNT sale right now too ~

[iii-days-grace]

Lighting candles on my Ultra Altar to summon a monster babe into my bedroom

[harrymyland]

Inktober 04: SCALLOP See my full set of Inktober 2022 prompts on Ko-fi!

[pseudowho]

Deliverance

Hunting down a monster, you are led to an isolated little town...and into the arms of its enigmatic priest, who harbours a dark secret.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Vampire!Priest!Nanami, monsterfucking, winged vampire, soft!Dom/pleasure!Dom Nanami, loss of faith/disillusionment, enemies to lovers/forbidden lovers, haematophilia, corruption kink

Very much inspired by Mike Flanagan's exceptional "Midnight Mass" which I highly recommend.

Soundtrack: "Take Me To Church" by Hozier, and "All Around Me" by Flyleaf

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The bridge to the mainland lived most of its saltcured life underwater. It rose, skeletal against the fog, as if the wreck of a ship from some bygone era, only twice a day, at low tide.

You were, by now, well-established into this friendly little town; a much-needed teacher to its handful of muddy-toed children. They did now know of your armory, your deadly weaponry. They did not know of your vow to hunt down the monsters that stalked the night.

And, they did not know how you suspected that the beast responsible for the deaths of at least 20 men on the mainland, may be one of their very own. 20 murders all occurring at low-tide, and only low-tide, could not be a coincidence.

They were all scum, you mused to yourself, all rapists, paedophiles and murderers...so perhaps it does have some sort of moral code. It must be here, you reasoned, fingers tapping the woody shelves of your little school cupboard in thought.

Your hunt was hampered by the timekeeping of this sleepy fishing town; often up before sunrise to take to the sea, and back before the sun broke above the horizon, it was not unusual for its residents to sleep during the day, and rise in time for the sunset. Its little church even held an evening mass, attended by plentiful nocturnal residents, after dinner.

"Hello?" A rich baritone, which was beginning to feel so intimately familiar to you, stirred an illicit want in your belly. He called your name. You could not help but run to him.

"--sorry, I'm-- I'm here! In the cupboard!" You called out, breathless in...what? Your rush to get to him? Anticipation? Something...more?

You flurried round the corner, all eager smiles, flyaway hairs and dimples. Your eyes melted so softly upon each others' forms, both sighing with relief. Neither of you knew how the other stirred within.

"Ke--...Father Nanami. What a lovely surprise. You're not usually up so early."

Nanami Kento cut an imposing figure in his cassock and white collar. He was a big man, with mountainous shoulders, and long, broad hands. You remembered the heat that pooled in your belly, the first time he had rolled up his sleeves to help you to move supplies into the schoolhouse, his forearms so alluringly thick and corded. His size belied an easy grace, and the elegant quick-step of a busy, intelligent man.

"I found myself unable to sleep," Kento admitted, his head bowed and hands clasped as he stepped to you. He seemed paler than usual, as he continued, "I was thinking abo--...just, thinking." He finished weakly. His eyes drew so fleetingly to your fast little pulse, thrumming from your throat, down your cleavage. His mouth dried, a double-edged hunger climbing down his abdomen.

"...thinking?" You offered, slowly closing the distance between you. You ached to remove it completely, your respect for his holy vows the only thing that contained you. Kento cleared his throat, running one strong finger between his neck, and corseting black and white collar.

"...wondering. If you would be attending mass. Tonight. I have miss--...you have missed the past week, I believe."

Ah. Yes. There was rarely another time when the homes of the local residents were empty enough to allow for investigation. You had only a few more to ransack, to find your monster, and you could feel yourself closing in on it. You felt a heavy rock of regret in your belly, and you clasped one of Kento's cool, pale hands in your own. His cock twitched, to feel the burn of your flesh against his, in ways so much less intimate than what he had imagined, alone at night.

"I'm so sorry...not tonight," you frowned, and you hurried to reassure Kento as he visibly deflated, "But tomorrow, I promise you. I'll come. Truly." Kento's face, so angular and strong, softened down at you with the hint of a smile.

His hand raised up for a moment, hesitating, before cupping your cheek. You felt your heart skip a beat, the tips of his little and ring fingers ghosting over your pulse point, while his thumb swiped beneath your eye.

"...chalk," Kento whispered, seeing your pupils dilate under his inherent, dangerous magnetism. He wished nothing more than to lean down and taste you, clutched against him and whimpering in the schoolhouse. You heard thunder rumble in the distance, and smelled the petrichor of an oncoming storm.

"...I can't wait," Kento whispered, stepping back from you, with just one backwards glance before sweeping out under the wind and blotting clouds.

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Your hunt had amounted to nothing. Either, your monster was meticulously careful, or your suspicions were incorrect, and it did not reside on this island. There was just one more place you had not explored, and you resigned yourself that you may be heading home sooner than you thought.

And yet, you felt a rope behind your navel, a red string around your finger, holding you here. You decided to complete your final investigation at the home of the priest, who had become the lifeblood that ran inside you, at midnight. He generally stayed late at the church, completing administration. You would be undisturbed.

Armed, rogue-like, you blended with moonlit shadows until you reached the windows outside his bedroom. You peeked through the gaps in the wooden blinds, and were met with an image of Kento, erotic and resplendent, that seared itself into your brain for the rest of your days.

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Kento didn't need sleep, ever since his God had forsaken him. Yet still, he craved that sweet embrace, to take him away from the twisted torture of what he had become. His resolve to die this way, as some fallen angel, had been unexpectedly fractured by the will to live-- fractured by you.

Kento switched the shower off, the last droplets of water running down his back. His cassock and collar were discarded, all woven lies against the skin of a faithless hypocrite. Kento wrapped a towel loosely around his waist, stepped past the empty mirror, and out into his bedroom.

His gut churned to see his empty bed. It had been weeks since he had fed. Years since he had taken a woman for the last time, before taking his vows. Weeks, since you had begun to consume him, mind, body and soul.

Kento had been losing his faith before the change. He had grown further from God, as countless monsters died beneath his teeth. But it was thoughts of you, spread, penetrated and whimpering beneath him, that took Kento beyond redemption.

Kento shuddered at the aching greed within. He lay back on his bed, hair still damp and floppy, but desperate for sleep to grip him and pull him under. His cock, rapidly thickening and tenting beneath the towel, made him curse, one broad arm flung over his eyes, while the other tried to squeeze himself into submission.

Kento squirmed with guilt, his semi-erect cock gripped in his palm. He thought of you, your fingers dipping into your needy wet cunt, the vibrator on your clit doing nothing to relieve the ache in your soul. He thought of the way you had squirmed and begged, to your god, and to him, to be granted your release. He thought of the way you had sobbed as you came, curled round yourself, your fingers desperately trying to reach the sweet spot that would make your orgasm climb all the way into your belly.

He didn't need to imagine it, Kento thought blithely, his thumb now stroking slick pre-cum under his foreskin, and over the sweet swollen head of his cock. He didn't need to imagine it, because he had seen you, through the gap in your curtains in the dead of night. Watching you, a pale angel in the rain, hunting for the forgiveness of a body he couldn't allow himself to sully.

Kento's hand had begun to masturbate himself instinctually, to the thought of you crying out for him. For him, and he could do nothing but pretend he hadn't seen you fall apart, to the dream of him inside you.

Kento groaned, low and rumbling, his hand gripping tightly around his throbbing, heavy length, longer than his thick fist could cover. Dripping with pre-cum, Kento began to fuck into his own fist to lubricate himself. He moaned in time to the memory of you, writhing and mewling against your pillow.

Kento's other arm reached round above his head, and he sunk his sharp teeth into his pillow, licking at it, imitating how he would flick his tongue against your pert little clit with a ragged moan. He pictured you above him, riding his mouth and nose as the length of his cock fucked down your throat to the tune of sweet wet gags. Kento whispered filth into the dead of night, trying to rut himself to orgasm.

"--take it-- good girl...cum down your throat-- cum in my mouth...shit...fuck you through it soon, angel-- promise, I promise--...ahhhh, shit, SHIT--"

Kento cursed, spitting venom, his balls heavy and sore, his own hand so woefully inadequate. His canines had lengthened, his mouth twisted into a teeth-baring snarl, and he gripped his cock harder. Trailing his other fingers to his mouth, sucking on his fingertips with a shiver, Kento pierced them until he could taste the hot rush of blood, imagining it was you quenching his thirst--

At the window, completely unnoticed, you gripped the windowpane, weak-kneed. Your other hand clapped over your mouth. Kento lay naked on his bed, sprawled and ethereal under strips of moonlight, masturbating with gasps and groans that you only wished you could hear.

Those hands, that you had spent night after night, wishing were inside you. That cock, thicker and longer than you had pictured...and oh. The way he rutted into his fist with such devastating ferocity, left you jealous of his hand. Your mouth watered.

What would he do, if you knocked right now? If you offered yourself to him, spread bare and pleading? Would he forsake his vows for you? Would he turn his back to God, as he stroked his cockhead to orgasm between your wet folds, singing your praises, and spattering hot, thick cum over your clit--

You were drawn back out of your head as Kento convulsed, his anguished, sloppy moan breaking through the windows, shooting through you like a knife. You gasped, delighted by Kento's twitching pleasure.

Kento hit his orgasm with the turmoiled strength of a stormfront, breaking. His final image was of you, cradling his sore cock between your legs, humping him inside you while you whispered to him and he whined into your hair and got lost in the smell of you, god, the smell of you, he could smell you now--

Kento spasmed, crying out as cum spurted in heavy stripes up his abdomen, his orgasm threaded with a tinge of horror-- fuck, he could smell you, you were here nearby, he knew the smell of that skin and that blood and that cunt--

Kento sat up with a jolt and a snarl, still gasping, the power of the hunt crashing through him. His teeth bared, animalistic, he wrenched his window up, sticking his head out into the night.

The smell of you, quickly fading, was being carried away by the wind. And Nanami Kento was losing his mind.

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You could barely compose yourself, walking into Church the next evening. The night had crept in fast; another storm churning over the water, was pulling the moon in with it. You felt overburdened with...guilt? Desire? You could not hide it, you were sure.

You could not hide it, as Kento's rich voice embraced the pews. You could not hide it, as your voice trembled its way through hymns. Kento's stern, impassive face remained unreadable, as you took communion from him. You met each others' eyes, both thinking about the same thing; his finger grazed your tongue, and gazed upon your sweet face, open-mouthed and doe-eyed, kneeling before him.

And despite all this, it was each others' company you craved more than anything more carnal. You found excuses to stay, in the church, loitering as Kento bid the crowds a warm goodbye. As the last person left, finally alone, you turned to each other. You both held your breath.

After a few moments, yours released in a twinkling laugh, and a blush, that had Kento's chest clenching in possessive adoration.

"I...have neglected you, father," you offered, brushing your hair behind your ear. Kento huffed, at first, pinching the bridge of his nose, before laughing. A genuine laugh. Deep, velvety, and rich. You were putty in his hands, and he didn't even know.

"Alas...it is the life of the clergy. Our own needs, go...unmet." Kento grimaced, a forced half-smile. His hands clasped over his lap.

You felt the tinge of bitterness at the edge of his words. You swallowed, thickly. Your fate balanced on the edge of a knife.

"Not...not all of them, surely? You could...you could join me for dinner?" You couldn't miss how Kento's eyebrows raised fractionally, his pupils dilating. Kento felt a dangerous hunger.

"I...I'm not sure-- I shouldn't--"

"Of course, you're completely right--" you flapped, taking a step back, and Kento's hunger gripped you back with jealous need.

"...I shouldn't be long here. An hour, maybe? If...if you'll allow it." Kento could feel himself twist under the need to possess you, one way or another. Judging by the smell of you, you would be wet, supple under his lips.

"Perfect," you blurted, standing up on your tiptoes for one happy moment, "perfect. I'll cook. We can...we can talk. I can't wait."

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A brisk knock. You hurried to the door, biting your lip, briefly abandoning dinner on the stove.

"Father," you cried, damning yourself for sounding so excited, "you're here...I'm glad. I was afraid you wouldn't...anyway..."

You hurried back to the stove, leaving the door open. After a moment, you looked up, seeing Kento leaning against the doorframe, looking at with with something...unreadable, in his eyes. He simply stood, drinking you in as you cooked.

"...Father? What are you waiting out there for? Come in." Blinking, chuckling to himself, Kento stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him and gently placing a bottle of wine on the table.

"Please. Call me Kento. It seems...silly, if we're having dinner, and a night together." You felt heat blossom through you, at the accidental double-meaning behind Kento's words.

Dinner together was soft, intimate, the food and wine smoothing over an already glossy conversation. You were made malleable by the wine. You were intoxicated by him. Kento looked into you with such knowledge of you, that you were laid bare beneath his gaze.

Sat facing each other on the sofa, Kento had abandoned his white collar, the buttons of his cassock and white shirt undone to his chest. He rolled wine around his glass, his head leaning on one hand, smiling as you talked. The wine made you stupid, and you blurted out;

"Why? Why...did you join the church, Kento?" It was, in part, rhetorical. A cry of despair against the crime of Kento being made untouchable. His answer surprised you, and you found yourself shuffling closer as he talked.

"I ask myself that same question every day. Ever since..." Kento bit his tongue, thinking of the night he was turned, on a missionary trip abroad. Thinking about the day you walked into his parish, setting him aflame with unquenchable burning thirst. Kento cleared his throat, swirling his wine. He felt his primal magnetism drawing you to him like a moth to the flame, and he could not stop himself.

"...I have become...disillusioned, with the church. I am...torn," Kento admitted. Your knees were touching his now, and you leaned towards him with lovesick eyes. Kento felt the thrill of the hunt, feeling the sting of his teeth lengthening. His cock twitched as your breath passed over his cheek.

"...torn?" You felt a quiver of fear now, in the way Kento's eyes darkened, his hand slipping over to grip behind your knee, pulling him into his lap. He set aside his glass. It should have rung alarm bells. You were so drunk, but you had only had one glass of wine. Kento smelled so intoxicating. You were warm, floppy as he pulled you to straddle his lap, cupping your face with both hands.

"...torn," he whispered, his nose brushing yours. Kento's hunger overtook his panic for you, a victim to himself. Kento whispered against your lips, watching your eyes flutter closed, your head heavy and lilting to the side, exposing the pretty thrum of your throat to him.

"...torn," he continued, gliding his tongue up the pulse in your neck, feeling his cock jump against your clothed pussy, "...all because of you...if God has forsaken me, I hope he never wants me back. If only you would let me worship you, instead."

Kento's lips hovered over yours, barely quelling his urgent need to feed on you, until you whimpered his name. Kento snapped, and pulled you in by the back of the neck, crashing his lips to yours with the ragged groan of a starving man.

Your head swam with Kento, clutching his open collar and falling against him, allowing him to devour your mouth with bliss. You murmured against his lips, sloppy and licking, tasting the sweet allure of him, and his grip on the back of your neck grew crushing, his weight now bearing over you to press you back into the sofa, a sharp sting on your lip--

"Ow! I...ugh, sorry...I'm bleeding--"

As you moved to sit up, shocked back out of your reverie, Kento had pushed himself back to the other side of your sofa. One hand had clasped over his mouth. He trembled, and shook, white-knuckles clasping the sofa. You heard a sharp gasp, as if Kento was in pain.

With blood on your lip, you reached for him-- and stopped. Your eyes fixed on the switched-off television opposite you both. You stood, slowly, moving towards the hallway, and your bag, trying to control your terrified little heart.

"I'll just...get a cloth, for my li--"

As you pulled a blade from your bag, standing up to spin around, you were thrown back to the wall, your head cushioned by Kento's hand. You cried out, feeling him bracket you against the wall, his cassock now abandoned, his form seeming to grow and swell before you. Kento's face pressed to your neck, and you felt the hot throb of his growing cock against your belly.

You stood this way, both panting into each other, your knife pressed over Kento's heart, and his teeth pressed to your throat. Your heart broke, fragile beneath Kento's twisting form, and hungry mouth. You hiccuped, your hand and resolve faltering.

"...I never wanted...I wish it wasn't...why did it have to be you?" You sobbed, your arm starting to lower. Kento growled against you, already two feet taller, his enormous chest trapping you in against the wall. You felt the lights blotting out around you, as vast, black, velvety wings unfurled from Kento's back.

"...always...you always knew...just couldn't accept--" Kento gasped, his tongue darting out against your neck, ridged and trembling. His chest burst with pain to feel you sob beneath him.

"I can't do it," you cried, your knife hand lowering again, "just take what you want, because I can't-- I love you-- I'm not strong enough." Kento's teeth gritted, his face crumpling against the soft copper scent of your skin. His enormous hand gripped yours, raising the knife to press to his chest. You gasped and cried out, resisting his pull; a bead of blood sprung up around the tip, pressed to Kento's chest.

"From the moment you arrived," Kento growled, his teeth pressing gently over your pulse point, starving and needy, "...my life...everything I am, has been yours to take. I would know you, blind and deaf...and I would be honoured, for you to take my life as penance for my sins."

You gritted your teeth, completely releasing your grip on the blade. It clattered to the floor. You reached up to trail hands up Kento's enormous, powerful shoulders. Your fingertips grazed the soft base of his wings, and Kento shivered, shuddering into you. He felt a dribble of pre-cum soak his stretched, ripping boxers.

"Then I condemn you to live, Kento," you whispered, pulling his face up to yours. His pupils were dilated, bursting with lust, inky black in pools of crimson, "...and take me. However you want me."

Kento snarled at you again, pressing himself to you, pinning your arms above your head with one thick hand; "You have no idea what you're asking for," he hissed, "I will eat you alive." He felt you tremble, seeing the golden resolve in your eyes. You leaned forwards to his mouth, begging.

"Then eat me...or fuck me, like you fucked your hand to me."

Kento cursed, snapping, lifting you against him. You wrapped your legs around his hips, feeling Kento reach down to shred the clothes off himself, completely absorbed by the need to possess you, to love you.

Flung backwards onto the bed, you gasped at Kento's monstrous form. Eight feet tall, broad and exquisite, his great black wings folded and unfolded against his back. His aching cock dripped with pre-cum, so much bigger than when you had seen him cum into his own hand. His face, still undeniably Kento, stared into you, owning you. Heat pooled between your legs, as he grasped his cock in one great hand, groaning and shuddering.

You crept forwards, still drunk on him, and his nephilim glory. Kento's hand stuttered around his cock as you licked the tip.

"--fuck-- too big for you-- you can't--" Kento uttered a strangled moan, to feel your hot little mouth engulf his cockhead, your lips stretched wide, gulping him to the back of your throat, all hot little licks and sucks. Every fibre of his being needed to buck forwards into your mouth, and you felt two great hands tangle in your hair.

When your hands joined your mouth, stroking down his aching length, masturbating the parts of his cock your mouth could not reach, Kento rutted involuntarily. Moaning, begging and whining your name, his voice ran deep and ragged around his sharp canines.

"--darling, I-- shit I-- so good...so good for me...taking me s--so well, haaaaah...not-- can't last-- like this--"

You hummed around his cock, swallowing down a trickle of salty pre-cum, feeling the gentle pressure of his fingertips against your head. So aware of his size and strength, Kento handled you like a china doll, with the utmost love and affection. Kento moaned with abandon, his head thrown back, his great wings furling and unfurling with divine pleasure.

Swallowing around Kento's thick tip at the back of your throat, you felt his cock leaping in warning. Kento tried half-heartedly to pull you off him, whimpering and moaning with fractured cries of your name;

"--can't swallow-- s'too much-- ohhh fuck, my love-- c-cumming, I'm cumming-- fffuuuck yes, swallow-- all of it--"

You squeaked as his cock jolted and twitched in your mouth, Kento's balls clenched tight as he hunched around your mouth, pressing your head to him. Your mouth and throat flooded with Kento's bitter seed, cooler than that of a normal man, and you swallowed him down with pride. Kento's groans and breaths ran ragged, as you licked him clean.

Kento panted, glossy-eyed as he came down from his high, his cock still half-hard against his thigh. Crowding your body against the bed with his, his fingertips grazed the dress you wore, before ripping it from you with a bared-teeth growl. You felt your bra snapped in the middle, as if it were paper. Your breasts heaved, nipples peaked under Kento's ravenous attention.

Poking his tongue out to tease it over one hard nipple, you felt your clit throb to feel the otherworldly ridges and grooves running along his tongue's sides and tip. Whining as he sucked your pebbled nipple into his mouth, you shuddered to feel Kento's sharp teeth graze your sensitive peak. He savoured you, lathering your nipple against his tongue, until you felt you could cum from that alone.

His other hand rose to engulf your second breast, your nipple rolled so tenderly between two great fingers. You felt a trickle of arousal soak your underwear. Kento could smell it, and pressed his hand to your lower belly, feeling vaguely for the telltale swell of ovulation.

"...made a mistake, angel...letting me take you like this-- nothing of you left, by the time I'm done with you--mine-- all mine-- fuck--"

Trailing kisses down your belly, sniffing you and eager to fill you with his smell, his body thrummed for you. Kento threw your legs over his shoulders, ripping the sides of your underwear and tossing the scraps aside.

His eyes fixed on your pussy, slick and clenching. Kento shuddered, feeling his cock beginning to bound to life again. It flopped, heavy and twitching against his thigh, filling again in preparation to fill you. Kento felt a vague desire to ensnare you, trapping you inside his drunken intoxication, to fill you, and fill you, and fill you, until your belly swelled, oozing his thick, white seed.

"...Kento...please..." Your sweet begging pulled Kento out of himself. Despite his monstrous form, his face softened, his eyes fixed to yours as his tongue, long and ridged, stretched out of his mouth. You saw stars as it lathed insistently from side to side, spreading your folds, stroking back and forth over your aching, pearly clit.

Kento mumbled into your pussy, tasting you, his long tongue fucking into your cunt while his nose nuzzled your clit. Mewling, your hands flew down to sink into Kento's hair, and you felt your hands grasped and pinned against your belly. Kento knew, with a faint pang, that if your fingernails scratched against his sensitive scalp, he would surely spill his seed all over your floor.

Kento draped his other forearm over your belly and hips, pinning you down as you twisted beneath his attention. He lapped, sucked, and nipped at you with the softest bites to your clit, his tongue fucking in and out of you with inhuman dexterity.

You bucked your hips down the bed, eager to feel his tongue sink into your deepest parts, and Kento obliged with a wet moan. You felt his tongue lathe against your spongy spot, pinned down as he devoured you.

"--just there...harder please, please-- god I need your cock in me, please-- fuck me please-- please--"

You begged and pleaded your way to orgasm, your arousal seeping out around Kento's tongue as you came with a jolt and a cry, your thighs clamping around Kento's head, feet tickling against his sensitive wings. Kento continued to fuck his tongue in and out of you, lathering you with his spit, tasting your arousal, desperate to taste more of you.

You reached down, trying to pull Kento up your body. He almost laughed at your casual management of a true to life vampire, about to fuck you into the mattress. Kento allowed it, settling above you, his pupils narrowing at the insistent beat of your throat. Suddenly, and with a strangled growl, Kento knocked your head aside, his teeth grazing at your throat, and his monstrous cock throbbing at your entrance.

You trembled beneath him, heaving and gasping from your high. All of your resolve left you, beneath his tongue, and you uttered words you knew to be true;

"...I trust you, Kento."

Kento pressed into you, with teeth and cock and a husky moan. You felt a sharp pierce at your neck, his teeth just deep enough to feel the hot splash of your blood against his tongue. Kento almost finished then and there, his seed threatening to spatter into your folds and entrance, instead of in your belly, as he had promised himself. Kento drank you, his mouth clamped around your neck, one great hand cupping your head to the side while the other gripped your hip.

With a squeak and a protracted, broken moan of his name, you felt Kento's cock stretch through your wet velvety walls. You squirmed, trying to climb up the bed, feeling Kento growl around your throat and yank you back down.

Kento was enormous, by far the biggest cock you had ever taken, splitting you with a dull sting. Your fluttering hole soothed as Kento began to rut his length into you. His red, leaking tip bullied your cervix, bumping it up against your womb, with inches of him still outside of you.

You uttered strangled little moans, completely pinned beneath his hulking form, feeling him rut as much of his cock inside you as he could fit. With a shiver, Kento denied himself of any more blood at your throat. His tongue stroked your wounds, clotting the blood there, as he fucked gently into you.

Kento's wings caged you both in, and he stared down at where his cock tried to stretch your pussy out with dopey, lovesick eyes. A trickle of your blood ran down from the corner of his mouth, and he was struck with a sudden burst of pride for you. Kneeling back, Kento pushed your knees up to your chest, crushing over you in a mating press.

You writhed, as Kento managed to sink more of his cock into you, groaning which each stroke he watched enter and pull out of you. Your slick formed a translucent white ring most of the way down his cock length. Kento was eager to see it drip down his balls. He gasped down at your prone, fucked-out form, and gently began to press and roll the fatty flesh around your clit, making you buck up into him with pathetic little mewls.

"--fit it in--fit all of me in...if you cum again-- fuck you through it, baby...fuck you through it...fuck you through it..."

Kento repeated this like a mantra, every gradually strengthening thrust into you taking him deeper, your pussy stretched to its limits around his terrifying girth and length. Leaning over where you joined, Kento spat a smooth mouthful of spit, stroking it around his base, lubricating you both, before upping his pace and intensity again.

You cried out, head thrown back as you arched, feeling Kento so deeply that you clasped your belly. Kento planted one hand over yours, his fucks growing gradually more feral as he bared his teeth, determined to finally take what was his, after so many years of miserable self-denial.

"--mine make you mine make you mine--leave it behind...leave it all...for you...shit-- so tight, just--milk it out-- all my cum-- all yours, I swear..."

As you came, your pussy clenching and spasming, Kento finally bottomed out. His head flung back with a cry of success, slamming into you with abandon as he chased his high, desperate to see you filled with his cum. Cursing, and spitting, teeth bared and blacking out the room around you with his wings, Kento came with a roar, and you felt your pussy and belly flooded by him.

His cock jerked long, protracted twitches inside you, spurting thick bursts of cum, with nowhere to go but up, plugged by his enormous girth. You were pliable and dazed, taking it with the sweet relief of his love for you, his seed soothing your swollen inner walls like a balm.

Kento faltered above you, staggered and dazed. Keeping his cock stuffed inside you, manoeuvring himself onto his side, he swept one great wing beneath you, and one above you. You felt yourself cocooned, sleepy and full, reaching into hand up to tangle into Kento's hair. He pressed a lazy kiss to your palm.

"...you're a...terrible vampire hunter..." Kento slurred, fading out into soft snores, just seconds later.

He's not wrong, you reasoned to yourself, wondering and drifting to sleep in his arms and wings, maybe he'll help me.

[spacebarbarianweird]

Astarion x f!reader. We Shall Meet Again

Read on AO3

Astarion and Tav are talking about life and death and end up talking about children tags: fluff, comfort, conversation about death and mortality Astarion mentions he wants to step into the sunlight once Tav dies so consider it a trigger warning Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

"Please, Astarion, I can walk on my own!" You try to free yourself, but the vampire drags you on his shoulders like a lifeless sack.

"No, you can't," he replies.

You let out a sigh of frustration. If only Astarion could see your expression, he would witness your disappointment.

The task seemed simple enough. The villagers promised a reward for getting rid of a troublesome troll. It should have been a routine quest for a pair of seasoned adventurers like you. And it had been until the troll hurled you against a tree. Astarion swiftly dealt with the monster, then hoisted you onto his shoulders, and now the two of you were making your way back to the village to get the reward.

"Please, just put me down," you implore.

"Your leg is broken," Astarion insists.

"No, it's not!" You let out a cry of pain as he touches the injured limb. "Fine, you win!"

Astarion chuckles softly as you continue to observe the grass and flowers below. Eventually, the fatigue overtakes you, causing you to black out. When you open your eyes again, you find yourself back in the village.

"We've agreed on five golden coins! Take your reward and go!"

"Yes, but my wife broke her leg, and now I must pay the healer," Astarion argues with a rogue smile. "Eight golden coins."

"Six! We haven't paid the tithe yet!"

"Seven. And your village healer cures her for free."

"Fine! But I don't want to see either of you ever again!"

"It can be arranged!"

The village chief throws a sack of gold to Astarion, and the vampire performs a theatrical bow as if on a stage. Then, he approaches you and gently kisses your forehead, his lips curving into a grin, though a hint of concern lingers in his crimson eyes.

"Don't worry, I'm too young to die just yet," you say as you caress his left cheek, and he closes his eyes, savoring the touch like a content cat.

"I know, but when that thing threw you at the tree, I thought for a second," he stumbles, his voice tinged with worry. "I thought you wouldn't get up."

You remember the wave of pain, the buzz in your ears, and Astarion kneeling beside you, carefully letting you drink a healing potion. He held you gently, his worry palpable as he waited for the potion to mend at least some damage.

He worries sick every time you get hurt. So do you - Astarion doesn't take physical damage easily.

The healer finally arrives, visibly annoyed that he was woken up in the middle of the night. He casts a spell on your leg, and you hear a gruesome sound as the bones fuse back together.

"You could at least be grateful for slaying that troll," you mutter.

The healer lets out a string of curses and leaves.

"Well, I think it's best if we find a spot to make camp before the sunrise," Astarion says.

"I don't think it would be safe to stay in the village anyway. They might start suspecting you're a vampire," you reply as the houses fade into the distance.

"Ungrateful lot," he chuckles.

You take his hand, and you together go into the night. It's been five years since you met at the shipwreck, five years since your unlikely union evolved into something deeper. You haven't grown tired of each other; if anything, you've grown closer, and you can't imagine spending a single night without Astarion by your side.

You are not even sure if you can fall asleep without him cuddling you.

You affectionately refer to each other as "wife" and "husband," even though there was no formal ceremony. One day, Astarion slipped a ring he'd found in a dungeon onto your finger, and you did the same after obtaining a similar one. It was as simple as that.

… The two of you stop and set up a tent as the skies lighten. The tent is crafted from thick, black material and reinforced with a darkness spell - a perfect daylight shelter for a vampire.

You've grown accustomed to the routine. At sunrise, you both go to sleep. When you wake up well past noon, Astarion stays inside, engrossed in the books you've collected on your adventures, while you head out to hunt. But sometimes, you keep the vampire company as he reads aloud.

And once the sun sets, you hit the road again. Both of you share the desire to see the world, and you want to see it together.

Exhausted from a long day of walking and the battle with the troll, you immediately fall asleep. When you wake up, you see Astarion sitting beside you, reading one of his books. The rain is pounding the tent and you feel the cold.

"Good morning," you whisper, and he runs his gentle fingers through your hair. His crimson eyes are brimming with love, but you detect an underlying unease in him.

You've always respected his privacy, but you can't help but notice his recent unease.

"Is everything all right? Do you want to talk?" You sit up, peering at the small entrance tent, shivering.

"It seems I can't keep any secrets from you," he sighs in relief. "I just… got scared yesterday. When that thing threw you. When you fell. Damn, you looked like a ragdoll! Then the troll tried to pick you up to smash you again. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to save you. That you would die."

You say nothing, resting your head on his shoulder and listening to his steady breathing.

"That's stupid. You're here. Everything is great," he says.

You sense that he doesn't honestly believe it. Mortality. Your mortality is what's troubling him. He's undead, immortal. He can only die if someone kills him or if he steps into the sun. But you will grow old and eventually pass away if you're not killed earlier.

A sudden urge to leave the tent and return at sunset washes over you, but you suppress it. You both need to address this, no matter how uncomfortable it is.

"What do you think you will do when I die?" you ask him gently.

He stares at you in horror and disbelief, as if he can't believe you've broached this topic.

"I - I don't want to have this conversation," he mutters.

"Astarion, please. We have to talk about this. My love, I know it makes you uncomfortable, but we must discuss it."

He clenches his teeth. "You can't even comprehend how much."

"I actually can because you don't seem to care about your safety, and there's a very high chance I could end up a vampire widow."

You sit before him, taking his hands and gently tracing the knuckles.

He remains silent, and the only sound is that of raindrops outside. The comfort of the warm tent makes you decide not to venture into the rain.

"I will step into the sun once you die. It's not up for discussion," he says resolutely. "I'll bid you farewell, go outside, and see the sunshine one last time. Don't worry. I'll be with you till the end."

A knot forms in your stomach as you suddenly envision Astarion cradling your lifeless body, waiting for the sun to rise.

"Don't," you abruptly say. "Don't do this."

"Well, it won't be up to you to decide," he says, his voice sending shivers down your spine. Astarion turns his head away, a signal that he wants to be alone with his thoughts.

"Okay, I'll go for a walk," you suggest, wanting some fresh air, but he grabs your hand.

"Don't be ridiculous. I don't want you to catch a cold," he insists, pulling you closer. You rest your head against his chest and you sit together in silence, lost in your thoughts.

"Astarion," you whisper. "Let me tell you something."

"If it's about death again, I'm not interested."

You hug him tightly. "No, it's about… the opposite, actually."

You carefully choose your words. "My people… My people believe in rebirth. We believe that we don't stay dead forever."

You pause, studying Astarion's face, but his pale features remain unreadable.

"When I was little, I was told that our souls come back. In a century, in a millennium. Memories return, and an old personality reawakens. It only happens to some; some are forgotten and never return. That's why we tell stories about our deceased ancestors – to help them find their way back home. Their souls must feel loved to get back."

You hug him even tighter, fearing his reaction.

"Astarion, my love, please, don't step into the sun when I die. Live. I want you to live, see the lands we won't see together, and experience things we won't experience together."

He sobs, and you look up to see his eyes closed, silent tears streaming down his beautiful face. You gently stroke his white curls.

"I want you to talk about me, to tell people stories about my adventures, about who I was. You love me deeply, and if my people are right about souls and resurrection, your memories will be the most powerful beacon in the darkest sea of death."

You release Astarion, who still avoids looking at you directly, seemingly embarrassed about his tears.

"And when that time comes, I will find you. I will embark on a quest to seek my vampire husband, and we shall meet again. You will tell me everything about the places you've visited and your adventures. People you've met, quests you've completed. Everything."

You cup Astarion's face, making him meet your gaze.

"Promise me that, my love. Promise me you will keep living." You kiss his forehead, and your heart swells when you see his smile.

"I promise," he says. "I promise I will keep going."

He lets his tears go and you are proud of him for not concealing the emotions. Then he cocks his heads and grins.

"I'll take your word for that because if I'm reincarnated and never find you, I'll be truly upset," you playfully remark.

"So will I if I keep my promise and you never return," he chuckles.

You plant kisses on his cheeks and share a lighthearted laugh.

"Are you going outside?" he asks. "It seems like it's not raining anymore."

He returns to the book he was reading.

"Go, I don't want you to stay locked in here," he insists.

"Nah, it's too cold. I'd better stay inside with you. What are you even reading there?" You try to snatch the book from his hands, but he closes it and attempts to put it away. "Since when are you embarrassed about your reading preferences?"

You try to grab the heavy black volume, but Astarion catches you and playfully puts you on your back, causing uncontrollable giggles. Now, you can't get up but still manage to stretch your hand toward the book.

"What is this?" You open it. "Dhampirs share many qualities with vampires. They walk the line between living and dead, gain heightened abilities, and have a life-draining bite. Children of vampires and mortals, they are few in number…"

You stumble. Children of vampires and mortals…

Astarion blushes. "I found this book in the troll lair. I never knew that vampires could have children. Like, real children, not cursed spawns."

You open another page with pictures depicting a young human woman with vampire fangs.

"It's written that dhampirs aren't hurt by the sun" he continues. "And they don't need blood to survive. They can easily blend with mortals, but at the same time, they are strong as the undead," he pauses. "It's like being a vampire without downsides."

Half-vampires. Dhampirs. You vaguely remember hearing about them many years ago. Is it possible for you and Astarion to have a child? And would it be right to bring a dhampir into this world?

"Now you're thinking about it too," Astarion observes.

"Guilty," you admit, still lying beneath him. You touch his back, feeling the scars through his shirt. He smiles, enjoying the sensation.

"Speaking of mortality and my promise," he continues, "I think I'll find it easier not to step into the sunlight if I have someone to care for. It would be cruel," he kisses you. "To leave a child without both parents."

You giggle.

"Am I getting this correct? You want me to give birth to a silver-curled dhampir so you won't be lonely?" you tease, pressing Astarion tighter. He doesn't answer, too occupied with undressing you.

A child. Your mind pictures a little girl who resembles both you and Astarion. A progeny. Someone to carry a piece of you both into the future.

"I don't mind," you finally say. "I actually really want this."

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

a list of some summer movies/series 🌞

hi hi hi!! it's just me, your friendly neighbourhood little organisation freak of a goblin here to give you yet again a list of some seasonal movies and series. this time, say it with me folks, summer! as always, just close your eyes and point somewhere on this little list, or even put the numbers in a generator and go with whatever the result is ♡

autumn | winter | spring

🐚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ movies ⋅˚₊‧

roman holiday (1953)

jaws (1975)

friday the 13th (1980)

Indiana jones (1981-)

dirty dancing (1987)

the princess bride (1987)

paris is burning (1990)

point break (1991)

jurassic park (1993-)

before sunrise (1995)

a goofy movie (1995)

clueless (1995)

birdcage (1996)

boogie nights (1997)

i know what you did last summer (1997)

my best friend's wedding (1997)

parent trap (1998)

bilboard dad (1998)

tarzan (1999)

the talented mr. ripley (1999)

10 things I hate about you (1999)

the mummy (1999)

cast away (2000)

almost famous (2000)

our lips are sealed (2000)

charlie’s angels (2000 + 2003)

holiday in the sun (2001)

the wedding planner (2001)

the fast and furious franchise (2001-)

princess diaries (2001-2004)

lilo and stitch (2002)

blue crush (2002)

crossroads (2002)

how to lose a guy in 10 days (2003)

under the tuscan sun (2003)

the lizzie mcguire movie (2003)

pirates of the caribbean franchise (2003-2017)

sisterhood of the traveling pants (2005-2008)

monster in law (2005)

aquamarine (2006)

she’s the man (2006)

the cheetah girls 2 (2006)

high school musical 2 (2007)

camp rock (2008)

forgetting sarah marshell (2008)

vicky cristina barcelona (2008)

fool's gold (2008)

mamma mia (2008 + 2018)

adventureland (2009)

bride wars (2009)

hannah montana the movie (2009)

the last song (2010)

letters to juliet (2010)

eat pray love (2010)

one day (2011+2024)

a little bit of heaven (2011)

soul surfer (2011)

the impossible (2012)

magic mike (2012+2025+2023)

the big wedding (2013)

lovelace (2013)

endless love (2014)

chef (2014)

the longest ride (2015)

mad max: fury road (2015)

the shallows (2016)

it (2017)

girls trip (2017)

baywatch (2017)

jumanji: welcome to the jungle (2017)

gifted (2017)

call me by your name (2017)

crazy rich asians (2018)

adrift (2018)

ibiza (2018)

every day (2018)

bad times at the el royale (2018)

tomb raider (2018)

the red sea diving resort (2019)

midsommar (2019)

we summon the darkness (2019)

spider-man: far from home (2019)

the devil all the time (2020)

palm springs (2020)

the last letter from your lover (2021)

raya and the last dragon (2021)

luca (2021)

uncharted (2022)

glass onion (2022)

do revenge (2022)

the lost city (2022)

the gray man (2022)

death on the nile (2022)

barbie (2023)

bottoms (2023)

anyone but you (2023)

la passion de dodin bouffant (2023)

road house (2024)

the challengers (2024)

players (2024)

🍦 ‧₊˚ ⋅ series ⋅˚₊‧

the o.c. (2003-2007)

america's next top model (2003-2018)

project runway (2004-)

h2o: just add water (2006-2010)

gossip girl (2007-2012)

private practice (2007-2013)

rupaul’s drag race (2009-)

the walking dead (2010-2022)

new girl (2011-2018)

the fosters (2013-2018)

black-ish (2014-2022)

jane the virgin (2014-2019)

grace and frankie (2015-2022)

critical role (2015-)

stranger things (2016-)

the durrells (2016-2019)

big little lies (2017-2019)

she's gotta have it (2017-2019)

the bold type (2017-2021)

queer eye (2018-)

station 19 (2018-2024)

euphoria (2019-)

roswell, new mexico (2019-2022)

valeria (2020-2023)

911: lone star (2020-)

outer banks (2020-)

bridgerton (2020-)

sex/life (2021-2023)

the white lotus (2021-2025)

daisy jones and the six (2023)

[queenie-blackthorn]

tips for writing muslim characters

except im a muslim, born and raised

dont mix it up with arab characters, yes a muslim can be arab and muslim but theres a difference. the link to my post abt writing arabs is here

first and foremost, not all muslims are arabs, and not all arabs are muslims. yes, most terminology and the holy book is in arabic, but that doesnt mean its exclusively arabs

indonesia (not an arab country) has the highest population of muslims worldwide

the arab country with the most christians is egypt, but the arab country with the highest population of christians is lebanon 

not all practicing muslim women wear hijab (some extremely religious women might not wear a hijab)

five prayers a day: fajr (before sunrise), zuhr (midday), asr (afternoon), maghreb/maghrib (sunset), ishaa (nighttime)

call to prayer is known as 'azan', you can listen to it on youtube

muslims use the lunar calendar (known as the hijri calendar), which also has 12 months but its around two weeks shorter than the gregorian calendar. most people only remember the ninth month: ramadan

fasting consists of not eating/drinking from fajr until maghrib. you stop as soon as the azan for fajr sounds, and you can start again as soon as the azan for maghrib sounds. you fast for the entire month of ramadan, but its also encouraged to fast on mondays, thursdays, and the 14th/15th/16th days of each month of the hijri calendar

allah isnt the name of god. allah is the arabic word for 'god'

women dont have to cover up completely until puberty, athough some girls cover up before then and other women dont cover up at all

women can be religious and not cover up

the word 'hijab' doesnt show up in the quran, its 'khimar'. hijab is to cover up completely, not just hair. you cant wear a headscarf with a short sleeved shirt

men have to cover up too. from their navel to their knees absolutely has to be covered up, and (in most islamic cultures, not necessarily exactly religious) they cover up their chests as well 

also men are told to avert their gazes from women more than women are told to cover up. youd find a lot of men in muslim countries not looking up from the floor when walking, especially in areas w a lot of women

kids by the age of eight can usually recite at least four chapters from the quran (the first one and the last three, mostly. it doesnt matter if theyre not arab)

if you want to use verses from the quran for whatever reason, i recommend quran.com

theres only one version of the quran. the same copy thats existed for 1400 years and millions of people have memorized it

on that note, people who memorize the quran are called hafiz, and there isnt a particular age. theres a three year old hafiz and a woman who didnt memorize it until age eighty three

there are two different sources for islamic law: the quran (holy book), and hadith (quotes of the prophet). dua' is completely different, its a prayer used to ask help from god, but unlike the five prayers, it doesnt really require a specific ritual. you just sit, face the direction of mecca, and say the dua'

superstitions are haram, but muslims do believe in black magic (its sihr in arabic and its one of the biggest sins) and djinn (there are djinn muslims but theyre widely regarded somewhat like monsters who encourage/help you to do black magic)

allahu akbar means "god is greater" or "god is the greatest". it isnt used as a signal to blow people up, and it isnt a term used purely by islam extremists

assalamu aleikum / waaleikum assalam mean, respectively, "peace be upon you" and "and peace be upon you too" basically just our way of just saying "hi" along with the reply

subhanallah means "glory be to god" usually when witnessing a miracle or when amazed

mashaallah - there arent any exact english equivalents but it means "what god wills". usually for compliments or to protect someone from evil eye

insha'allah - simply "god willing" but we use this when talking about the future (like "will you come to school?" "insha'allah" or "we'll get the gift, right?" "insha'allah"). can be replaced by the lesser used "bi'ithn illah"

alhamdu lillah - "praise be to god" or "thanks be to god. used in the way you might imagine, but also as a way to express that youre doing fine. "how are you doing today, sister?" "alhamdu lillah" (also when finishing a meal / finishing drinking water)

astaghfir ullah - "i seek forgiveness from god" whenever we see someone do something haram or when we ourselves do something haram and wish to repent

bismillah - "in the name of god" we use this whenever we begin something. a lot of arab literature starts with this. every chapter im the quran starts with this. every meal starts with saying this before eating

you can submit asks if you have any questions, but try to be a lil specific !!

feel free to rb with more info :)

[shardminds]

full moon, white honey

pairing: elain archeron x lucien vanserra. honourable mentions to feysand, nessian and one barely there hint at emerie/nesta. it's tasteful, i promise. rating: e (for eventually they get it on) wc: 11k primary tags: witcher!au, hurt/comfort, major character injury, non-chronological, ambiguous/open ending, sex on furniture - more detailed tags, see ao3! read on ao3

The worn parchment that had once held a recipe lay untouched in her quarters. She no longer needed it. Celandine, White Myrtle, Brain of a Drowner. Crush, Boil with Spirit, Bottle once cooled. Thirteen words seared into her bones. For the Witcher who too often showed her his.

a/n: happy birthday to me (well, i'm posting this early because i'm impatient, but the point still stands) i even made a little mood board/title card thing! this is all very exciting.

this fic is told entirely out of order (intentionally so. what is the intention? who knows. vibes, i guess.) and there's a detailed breakdown on ao3 on exactly what i pilfered from the witcher universe in order to write this so pls see there if you need a breakdown!

(very) small snip under the cut!

Fox cub at the foot of a golden throne, restless and wanting. Blood of the lion. And the lion was not a lion but a wolf; each paw print against the marble floor burst to flame. And the palace was burning, falling. And the cub stepped into the wolf’s jaws, bared its throat in submission, but there was no one to save him. Claws across flesh time and time again until all he had was red. And the fox was not a fox but a boy; atop Novigrad rooftops, launching from parapet to ridge at the first sunrise, the last sunrise. Bloodshot eye and black stained lips. 

Swords and signs. Horseback to haybale. Tavern, village, city — but no home. 

Blindfolded on a tightrope a hundred feet above the waking streets, nought but the swell of the wind and the call of birds, his audience. He slipped, and the ground rushed up to meet him.

//

“Vanserra is calling for you.” 

“He does not know me. He calls for any woman with a pulse.” 

“And yet he’s turned away all companions, refuted all offers of comfort, he barely rises above amicable chat with the others that dare approach him, but he calls for you.”

Elain huffed a fickle laugh at Maren’s observations. Of course she’d noted these things — probably weaned the information from any of the other healers, priestesses or patrons of the temple. The walls breathed secrets in The Mother’s temple, only half of them true. Elain saw the other half in her dreams. 

“What are you saying, Maren? That he favours me? As if I don’t know. I see it and I ignore it, as you all should. It is no business but his own.” She hauled close the tome she’d been scouring — a translated elven text on elder blood in horticulture — keen to end this interrogation. Not the first and definitely not the last. The Witcher might not have made a habit of getting injured in Temeria intentionally, but when he did, he always ended up here. Halfway dead, but still very much alive. 

“It makes him easy to care for. Each time I tend to his scratches, I learn a little more about just what his mutations have cost him and how little our healing aids him. His own concoctions knit his bones, quell his bleeding, but turn his blood to poison. I don’t know about you, Maren, but that terrifies me.”

It wasn’t just that which terrified her.

Maren held her tongue, probably for the first time in her life. 

“A monster visits our temple and calls for me by name and you would give me to him thinking not of my wellbeing, but of the scandal it would cause if rumour spread that I was fucking him.”

“That is not—”

“I will take my leave,” Finality crisp in her words. “But not for your worry. I have enough celandine and white myrtle to craft his potions. I trust he will have the rest.” 

Maren bobbed her head, a curt dismissal. To be honest, Elain was surprised she didn’t argue. The wine of her cheeks seemed to flush with an unchecked fury. But Elain was not one of her charges, not a priestess in the temple. She tended their gardens, helped in their kitchens, brewed their potions, but she’d been granted asylum above all else. The temple kept her from the clutches of ruthless kings, power starved elves, ambitious men. Any that would bind her powers for their own ill will. 

A Seer. What a rare and wonderful thing.

What a cursed blessing. 

And she was angry. Not at Maren, or the healers and priestesses, mothers and refugees that found home in their temple. She was angry at Lucien Vanserra. Because no matter the consequences, he always came back. 

Her footfalls through the stone corridors, an omen

[ghoulysaphomet]

Link woke with a start to the ear squelching sound of metal grinding against metal. Not noticing the unknown cloth adorning his shoulders, he sits up, trying to force the residual sleepiness from his eyes.

It's early, possibly around sunrise. The sky is still speckled with barely there stars and awash with hues of oranges, reds and pinks crowning the sun. The maze's walls stand as tall as the first time he'd gazed upon them with moss crawling up the tiles in lazy exploration. The sounds of battle grates on his ears as well as his nerves. He looks, startled at the visage he finds.

The other Link (something is missing, didn't he wear a cloak?) Is brandishing an unknown sword he hadn't been carrying the day before against a tall moblin-esque creature unlike anything he'd ever seen. The monster is at least a few heads taller than the other Link, menacing even without a weapon. It snarls in threat; but other Link answers in kind, showing his teeth before pouncing. His form is so unlike his own, which stems from formal training and experience. This Link's form is more like a bunch of different people's experiences mashed together; an amalgamation of styles. Ruthless in nature but graceful in dodging; it resembles a predator playing with its prey. Link is mesmerised.

Until the other Link's sword breaks, flinging tiny shards into his hands and the ground beneath them. Link grabs his own sword, words of warning on the tip of his tongue as he watches the moblin swipe with sharp claws out at the other man. He barely gets his knees under him before other Link backflips, landing on all fours and pounces with an animalistic snarl. A loud squelch, wet and ragged, echoed by similarly sounding screams, cries loose from the monster. The other Link's blunt teeth and nails are embedded in its harsh black skin, his hair coming undone by the ferocity of his onslaught. The monster pitifully attempts to pust him off but gains a broken wrist as a result. Link can see the way other Link's jaw is straining with effort, the goal not being hitting an artery as much as crushing the trachea maybe. A sick wet crunch echoes around the area before the monster dissolves into black smoke. All Link can hear is the harsh breaths of the other Link as well as his own loud heartbeat.

Finally, it seems the other Link notices him looking. His face has a blood-beard, thick red liquid dripping from his jaw. Hair wild, the ends of his bangs stained crimson. His blue eyes blink before stalking closer to where Link is squatting. A hand reaches out, caressing his chin before landing on his forehead.

"Are.. you okay?" His teeth are stained red, warm breath hits his face. His heart thumbs away in his chest. Suddenly, his lips are dry.

"U-uh. Uhm yeah. Yeah I'm okay - I should be the one to ask you that! Are.. are you okay?" The hand is still holding his jaw, warm and soft. Link doesn't want him to let go for some reason. Unconsciously, he leans into it.

"Your face is red. Do you have a fever?" The other Link asks, pushing some of Link's hair behind his ear. He swallows.

"No. No. Im fine. Peachy."

The other Link frowns, clearly not believing him. He removes his hand and Link resists the urge to chase the warmth.

A piece of moblin flesh is dangling from other Links hair. He tentatively reaches out, aware of other Link's eyes on him like burning candles, and plucks it from his hair. There's something in the air around them. He can't bring himself to look away from other Link's mesmerising eyes; There's small becks of turquoise in his sea-deep eyes.

He knows he's being studied, that he should take back his hand. Instead, he lets it linger.

"..Sky" other Link says.

"..what?"

Other Link's cheeks reddens as he looks away. He clears his throat, licking his lips, seemingly unbothered by the blood.

"Your, ah, your nickname.. it'll be confusing with two Link's here.. and uh.. your.. your eyes. They remind me of the sky" he finishes, face getting redder and redder by the second. Link, or rather, Sky, feels a soft smile coming on.

"Hm.. then you'll.. you'll be Wild!" Because of the finesse and beauty the other man possesses, but the unlimited danger for everyone not knowing where to tread. His eyes like the wild ocean that's courageous, tempestuous, and a hurricane all in one.

Wild cocks his head. Reminiscent of an animal confused. It's cute.

"Why Wild..?" He asks, but doesn't refuse the name.

Sky blushes. "Ah, you know.. we're in the wild.." he knows it sounds weak to even his own ears, but Wild just nods as if reasonable.

"Well.." Wild starts before smiling. His teeth are pink, and the blood on his face has started to crust over and crackle.

"Nice to meet you, Sky." He says, shyly.

It's the most beautiful picture Sky has ever seen.

A short fan-drabble featuring Wild and Sky from @linked-maze by @frulleboi !

Quick Wild doodle to go along with it! 🫀✨️

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Thinking About Ascended!Astarion x Evie (Ace!Tav)

A/N: To be clear, this would be an AU from the “canon” stuff I’ve been writing. In my version of events Evie is able to convince Astarion not to ascend. However, this absolutely disaster of a relationship won’t leave my brain. (Also if you’re curious about my thoughts of what would happen if Evie wasn’t able to convince Astarion not to ascended and refuses to help him let me know)

Warning: Heavy angst, isolation, emotional abuse, allusions to attempted suicide

Astarion x Evie (Ace!Tav) Masterlist

It would be a decision made out of fear, not just from Astarion, but Evie as well

Astarion is too afraid to let go of the promise of power and the safety he feels that guarantees not just for him, but for Evie

And Evie in turn doesn’t want to lose him, if she says no he’ll hate her, he’ll leave and she’ll be alone all over again

Of course that means reverting back to her own worse self, the one willing to bend into whatever shape was required of her until she breaks

But she does help him and she does break

Some part of her recognizes the horror of her actions, but she buries it away because surely it’s worth it

Astarion offers to make her his forever and she takes it with both hands because the alternative is to face what she did and accept she just killed the man she loved; so she what she does best, she pretends it’s real

For a while it’s easy, Astarion makes good on his promise and better

He showers in her finery she would have never thought to dream of

No more going to bed hungry or cold

Astarion is always near and when he has to go, is never gone for long

The fact he starts to be the only one she sees hardly seems to matter

His grip on her only tightens

Even as the Ascended, Astarion knows Evie’s boundaries, he wouldn’t dare touch her in any way without her express permission; he’s not Cazador, he’s not a monster, he loves her

The problem is other people

He has enemies now, hundreds, possibly thousands, all of whom know how he adores his treasure

He has all the power in the world, but still there are those idiotic enough to try to get to him through her

And then there’s everybody else, the lords and minions he must associate himself with while he amasses more power

At first it seemed only right to have his treasure at his side, the better to keep an eye on her and make clear what was his

But oh how hands and eyes wander

He can’t blame her, he could never place the blame on her, his treasure is a wonder to behold

But who are they to think they can touch her

There are only so many times he can make good on his promise to pluck the eyes out of anyone who dares violate his love with their lecherous glances before it causes more problems than it solves

Better to keep her in the palace, some place he has full control over, safe and sound

But then again, everybody knows where the palace is, how can he be sure they won’t come pounding down the door and that’s not even taking account the servants

He’s not locking her up in some dungeon; he’s not Cazador

He commissions a tower, the entry to which only he knows

It’s beautiful and ornate, impenetrable and covered in magical seals and protections

The windows provide a beautiful view of the city with magical widows that become black in the daylight

Evie had a little accident a while ago, poor thing forgot to close the curtain before sunrise, she was so rattled, she seemed to hardly notice the burns

Also best to make sure the windows can’t be opened either or broken for that matter; can’t risk her having another accident and falling

She has a way of finding herself on high places; why she would want stand on the edge of the battlements is something he chooses not to indulge in

She’ll be safe there with all the comfort and beauty he can provide her

He’s not Cazador

There’s some part of Evie that can see what’s happening, who can feel herself slipping away, who wants to fight back, who wants to run to her friends and beg for their forgiveness, for their help, anything but it feels too late for that now

She made her bed and now she has to lie in it even if that means enduring the screams of 7,000 souls in her mind every time she closes her eyes, hands just as bloody as his

And then there’s Astarion who somewhere deep inside can only look on in horror, who watches his cruelty and selfishness and recognizes his master in every action

The one who sees his Evie fade into a ghost before his eyes and begs her to run, to leave and never look back because he’s killing her

He’d rip out his own throat if he could

But those are just stray thoughts, easily dismissed as remnants of the nothing he once was

Besides, none of this is forever, he and his treasure have eternity, plenty of time to allow his plans to come to fruition, an endless night where all who lie beneath it bend the knee to him and him alone

Then they’ll be safe, then nothing could touch them, then maybe they’ll be free

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Can you tell us what the answers to the six of crows color experiment is?

Yep! ☺️

I realised too late that I really should’ve organised it as a poll somehow, because I’ve had loads of responses (thank you all very much) and whilst a lot of them agreed with me there were a few I wasn’t expecting. My associations in the order than I wrote them in the original post:

Red - Nina

Green - Jesper

Black - Kaz

Blue - Matthias

Purple - Inej

Orange - Wylan

So generally speaking a lot of people either agreed with exactly what I’d said or swapped Wylan and Jesper, which makes a lot of sense. A few people also moved Jesper and Inej around, which I understand and I wanted to add on that point I always connect Inej to purple with the idea of her reclaiming the colour and its power in the same way that she referred to her knives as her “proper claws” to reclaim the image of the lynx. Purple is the colour that was used against her and the colour that represents Ketterdam (Stadwatch uniforms, colour of Kruge notes, and the Geldrenner Ketterdam suite being the main examples); with a part of what separates Inej’s journey and her ship from Kaz’s style of vengeance is the acknowledgement that the city itself is the monster she’s facing, she’s been forced to come to terms with the idea that what happened to her wasn't the result of one terrible person or group of terrible people, but a dangerous environment and society that was never going to see her as an equal go matter what she did in life (this realisation is particularly linked to the “Rare Spices” billboard, which I wrote a post on a while back so if anyone wants to read that let me know and I’ll tag you) so by reclaiming the colour she is not only reclaiming the power Heleen took from her but the city as a whole. I hope I worded that all okay I worry that my point doesn’t come across properly it feels unclear please let me know and I’ll try to explain it differently. However I also understand the perspective a few people raised in their responses of wanting to separate her from that colour because she should always be seen as more than who she was forced to be, it’s just my personal interpretation that part of her pathway to healing is reclaiming the symbols used against her as a symbol of power to use against the system and people that put her in her position.

With Jesper and Wylan, I can definitely see it going both ways and I guess it also depends on what shades of the colours you’re imagining for each of them. For me, Wylan is orange because it can be a quiet, beautiful sunrise but it can also be fire and rage, it can be dark and deeply lonely but it can also be bright and blazing, it can be the first light of home in the dark but it can also be the flames of righteousness. “You were angry. I needed you righteous” “well, you’ve got me”. I realise all/most colours have a natural dual nature but I think orange does particularly and I think that it compliments him wonderfully. I connect Jesper to green for brightness, fun, the “lime green” clothes and vibrant plaid, but also for the farm and the card tables and the painful difference between them - the way his life split in two like a log cut down the middle (I don’t have my book with me so not quoting, but he says something along those lines in Crooked Kingdom when talking about how he ended up moving from the university to the Barrel).

I think the one’s who were always connected the same way were Nina to red and Kaz to black, and I wanted to add a couple of reasons I didn’t see anyone mention yet and that would be Nina being the “little red bird” and Kaz wearing black, mercher suits to mock them and to look, by Ketterdam’s colour-represented social hierarchy that I could talk about forever, like he fits in with them in the upper echelon of society.

And most people also maintained Matthias with blue, connections to water, ice, storms, but I think also it’s worth emphasising his blue eyes that Nina finds so beautiful

I will go through later and tag everyone who has responded so far in this post so everyone can see the results if they want to, thanks to everyone who responded ❤️

[themidnightarcher]

❛ ♡ INTRODUCTION POST ☕ ୧

↳ જ⁀➴ 🏹 ｡˚ “i want to do something splendid before i go into my castle--something heroic, or wonderful--that won't be forgotten after i'm dead. i don't know what, but i'm on the watch for it, and mean to astonish you all, some day. i think i shall write books, and get rich and famous; that would suit me, so that is my favorite dream.” — JO MARCH, LITTLE WOMEN <33 (my absolute beloved!!)

❝𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋, 𝐒𝐎 𝐈 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋❞

││↳ 🖇️ ⵌ . HI HELLO!! welcome to my page, i'm fatmata, 14 and a hopeless romantic - this is my blog (aka daily dose of cats, coffee and cynicism) but honestly you can consider this as my personal messy online diary which mostly consists of casual brainrots, miscellaneous shit, random incoherent thoughts or rambles, angry rants, online oversharing or any current hyperfixations or obsessions i have at the moment!! <33 my brain is chaotic and always seems to be all over the place (sorry for your sanity). i'm also INCREDIBLY self-indulgent, sentimental, full of suppressed rage and can become unhealthily attached to fictional characters so yeah that's that :)) 📄

│╰─────────── ·  ·  · ──────────

╰┈➤ [BASIC INFO] -> black • 🇸🇱/🇬🇧 • UK • 14 • student • INFJ, 8w7 • scorpio sun/moon • virgo rising • slytherin • casual swiftie • major coffee addict (me 🤝 lorelai & rory over being insane over coffee) • PROUD FEMINIST • avid reader • insomniac • CAT LOVER • sunset & sunrise enjoyer • autumn/spring stan • philosopher at heart • major english & history lover • middle child • team conrad • lalala girlie <33 (methinks) • horror movie enthusiast • HARDCORE MUSIC JUNKIE • replay the 'this is me trying' bridge more than the average person should 🤷‍♀️ • olivia rodrigo supporter • self-diagnosed pinterest whore • legally married to spotify • fashionista & lipgloss lover • certified rockstar gf • red nails enthusiast • midnights & rep girlie!! • BRATZ & MONSTER HIGH >>> • stationary shops adorer • freddie mcclair apologist FIRST, human second ♡ • probably (NO DEFINITELY) mentally unstable? • professional perfectionist, overthinker & teenage girl-er 24/7 • burnt out workaholic • suffer from an EXTREME case of gifted kid burnout, exam anxiety & identity crisis (so hey that's super fun!!)

╰┈➤ [MAJOR INTERESTS/HOBBIES] -> true crime ➝ listening to music ➝ reading ➝ playlist-making ➝ sociology ➝ media/character analysis ➝ english literature ➝ greek mythology ➝ dancing ➝ reading ➝ playing video games ➝ defending my beloved characters ➝ deep intellectual conversations ➝ watching greta gerwig films ➝ arts & crafts ➝ FASHION ➝ sleeping ALL day ➝ online shopping but never actually buying anything? ➝ researching random shit on the internet ➝ photography ➝ skincare ➝ crocheting ➝ cooking & baking ➝ studying ➝ writing in planners/organising journals ➝ going to stationary stores ➝ board games ➝ girlblogging ➝ maladaptive daydreaming ➝ scrolling on pinterest/tumblr for unhealthy amounts of time ➝ making moodboards ➝ etc. (but i also DESPERATELY want to learn the electric guitar because it's like the best instrument to ever exist?!)

my beloved freffy (bottom right corner) ILY TO DEATH, you deserved BETTER *sobbing while enraged*

╰┈➤ 🎧 [ARTISTS] -> taylor swift (OBVIOUSLY), lana del rey, olivia rodrigo, gracie abrams, conan gray, sabrina carpenter, beabadoobee, maisie peters, mitski, cigarettes after sex, sza, the weeknd, beyonce, kanye west, reneé rapp, ABBA, melanie martinez, tv girl, marina, doja cat, the smiths, queen, nirvana, rihanna, ariana grande, tyler the creator, adele, lorde, mac demarco, phoebe bridgers, avril lavinge, boygenius, laufey, suki waterhouse, fiona apple, clairo, billie eilish, madison beer, tate mcrae, steve lacy, kali uchis, girl in red, lizzy mcalpine, arctic monkeys, radiohead, mazzy star, coldplay, ricky montgomery, harry styles, chase atlantic, the neighborhood, roar, alex g, pinkpantheress & more!!

╰┈➤ 📖 [BOOKS] -> (ok so one thing you should understand is that i've never actually read half of these before but ANYWHO these are books i'm hoping to read in the late future so i guess they still count?? so consider this as my reading list. i'll cross them out once i've finished them!!)

better than the movies | agggtm | percy jackson | the hunger games | osemanverse | book lovers | i kissed shara wheeler | the seven husbands of evelyn hugo | daisy jones & the six | fourth wing | the atlas six | girl in pieces | the inheritance games | six of crows | we were liars | these violent delights | acotar | if we were villains | it ends with us | normal people | people we meet on vacation | ice breaker | where the crawdads sing | you deserve each other

╰┈➤ 🎬 [TV SHOWS/FILM] -> skins, gilmore girls, bridgerton, derry girls, ladybird, little women (2019), tsitp, barbie (2023), anne with an e, twilight, stand by me (1986), the breakfast club (1985) the edge of seventeen, boyz n the hood (1991), red white and royal blue, ten things i hate about you, thirteen (2003), girl interrupted, thg, gossip girl, heartstopper, clueless, legally blonde, [2000s chic rom-com teen girlie movies have me in a severe life-threatening chokehold, send help], outerbanks, never have i ever, sex education, etc. and MANY MORE 🫶🏾🫶🏾

╰┈➤ [+ CHARACTERS] -> JO MARCH, hermione granger, edward cullen, pippa fitz-amobi, ravi singh, rory gilmore, lorelai gilmore, lane kim, anne shirley, mulan, katniss everdeen, peeta mellark, freddie mcclair, effy stonem, cam cameron, devi vishwakumar, nadine franklin, nick nelson, allison reynolds, kat stratford, max mayfield, tracy freeland, conrad fisher, liz buxbaum, wes bennet, peter parker, alex claremont-diaz, georgia nicholson, sidney prescott + MUCH MORE

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐒𝐀𝐘, "𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄, 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 ❞

ִ ࣪ ⟡ ִ ۫ ִ 🕯️ ── ꒱ ◠ 🎹 ۫ ִ ۫⊹

ִ ࣪𖤐 currently reading agggtm, (re) watching skins (uk) and listening to i wish you roses (kali uchis) <33

ִ ࣪𖤐 i tend to mostly post or reblog lots and lots of art, music, history, fashion, taylor swift, FREFFY, scene aes, pop culture, food, lifestyle, fanfiction, poetry, classic literature, shakespeare, greek mythology, coquette/downtown girl aesthetic, gilmore girls, whispers, gifs, moodboards, original posts, whatever fandom i'm in, etc. overall just WHATEVER seems to catch my eye at the given moment!!

╰┈➤ DNI - racists, terfs/radfems, AGEISTS, proshippers, ableists, ED-promoting blogs, pedophiles, bigots, empty blogs (y'all might be bots or smth), gaylors/kaylors, ceffy shippers (BIASED), mean girls, zoophiles, joe alwyn haters, anti-palestinians, misandrists/misogynists, antisemitics, fatphobes, islamophobes, homophobics, transphobes, xenophobes, etc. and ANYONE ELSE who fits into that majority → 🚪(especially creeps who want to do any 'freaky' shit with me??)

❝ 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐄, 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ❞

╰┈➤ MY ABSOLUTE BELOVED!! - @catastrxblues, @sparksssflytv, @youronlymagnolia, @svnflowermoon, @i-miss-you-im-sorry, @stvrlighhttt, @halucynator, @nqds, @alltheliars, @tooinlovetothinkstraight14, @diorgirl444, @stvrlighhttt, @urgirlnextdoorr, @girlfailing, @shefollowedthestars, @wntrrdoll, @weeping-in-the-willows, @skeelly, @reminiscentreader, @isitoversnowtvs, @jewelledmoths, @moonanditstars, @french-toadt, @dandelions-fly-in-summer-skies, @christmasslights, @urapocolypticcrush, @cottoncandywhispers, @lost-in-reveriie, @folklore-girl, @betteroffnowthatwedonttalk, @theladyinwhite13, @iwanttomarrynoahshaw, @emailsicntsend, @someones-name-insterted-here, @astraeasparrow, @evermore-4-life - ILY TO THE MOON AND TO SATURN 🪐 (let's all get married and live in the forest together fr)

┕ » • » i’d love to make more friends, feel free to ask or message me!! inbox is always open - PLEASE come say hi, i literally don’t mind at all! ꒱ྀི « ━━━┙

NOW PLAYING: PEOPLE WATCHING - CONAN GRAY‎ — ♬

01:23 ━━━━●───── 02:38

↺ ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤ↻ ☆

★₊˚﹟' CREATED BY @ [--- #THEMIDNIGHTARCHER ]

[spacebarbarianweird]

Baby Fangs

Synopsis: Baby Alethaine is severely sick, and Astarion is afraid his daughter is going to die.

Tags: hurt/comfort, dadstarion, dhampirs

Alethaine's age: 5 month

Thanks @queenofthespacesquids for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion has never been so afraid in his life.

Not when he was dying in the streets of Baldur’s Gate. Not when he thought Tiriel had gone. Not when Cazador had inflicted tortures on him.

It just can’t compare to the fear of losing a child.

“She needs to make it till morning,” the healer says. “If she is alive by sunrise, she will get better.”

“But can we do anything?” Tiriel looks as if she is going to fight. “There are healing spells, potions, anything!”

“And most of them aren’t fit for a five month old child. Astarion, Tiriel, I give you my word. I’ve done everything I can. There are probably some clerics and wizards who can heal your child immediately but none of them live in Daggerlake. I am sorry.”

The healer walks away, leaving a dreadful silence in the house.

Astarion sits on the bed, clasping his hands together. Of course, things couldn't be this good. Of course something had to go wrong! How could he have been foolish enough to believe that things could be good for him?

His little daughter, Alethaine, is such a miracle, such a gift. When he first held her in his arms, he dared to hope that everything would be all right from then on. And now they tell him she's dying? That she would be dead by morning?

Alethaine whimpers weakly. She is already too tired to cry.

Tiriel looks terrible. She is a warrior, a fighter, but for the first time in her life, she has no enemy to kill. The enemy is her daughter's fever, and she can't beat it the way she beats monsters.

The baby starts coughing.

Astarion doesn't need to be a vampire to feel his daughter's pain. Her muscles are too tense. Her breathing is ragged and her heartbeat is too weak. Alethaine is suffering at this very moment, and there is nothing her parents can do about it.

Can’t give her medicine. Can’t soothe her pain.

There is a grip of death around her tiny heart and neither Tiriel nor Astarion can unclench it.

Tiriel sits on the bed, cradling Alethaine in her arms. Astarion wraps his hands around them.

“So what do we do?” he asks.

“We wait,” she answers. Her voice sounds exhausted.

He nods.

Yesterday, Alethaine was perfectly healthy. She tried to sit up, but each time her head proved too heavy and she fell on her back. Then her black eyes clouded over and a fever rose. She refused to eat and only cried like a wounded animal.

“What if she doesn’t make it?” Astarion asks.

Tiriel doesn't answer and he sees tears flowing down her cheek. “We will keep living. Could you please bring a blanket?”

Astarion reluctantly lets them go and picks up a thick fur blanket from the floor. Then they sit together with their backs against the wall, covering their sick daughter with the blanket. Only a desperate cough echoes through the room.

Children die all the time. Mostly little kids like Alethaine. Daggerlake isn't a very big town, but Astarion knows that at least three babies have died this year. From disease. Small children like this are too vulnerable. It happens all the time.

There's a chance that tomorrow Astarion will have to dig a grave and put a tiny bundle in there that never had a chance to grow up.

It's so unfair that it makes Astarion want to howl.

"Astarion," Tiriel touches his curls. "Let's talk. The silence is killing me."

“What do you want to talk about, my sweet?”

“I don't know… Anything.” Tiriel places the girl in his hands and Astarion flinches sensing the heat of Alethaine’s body. Fever. A terrible killing fever. “Do you think she is a dhampir?”

“She is an elf like I was before I died.”

When Tiriel was pregnant, he read as much as possible about dhampirs. Deadly and fast, half-vampires don’t need blood and can live in the sun. But they have vampiric strength, can walk on ceilings, and regenerate much faster than mortals. No wonder vampires are often jealous of their children.

But at the same time, the life of a dhampir is full of hardships. Neither a vampire, nor a mortal, they are doomed to be alone. Once they feel bloodlust for the first time and fangs replace the canines, they are outcasts often disowned by their own mortal families.

But does it have to be like that? Astarion has been fighting the odds against his vampiric nature for the last twenty years. Why can’t his daughter?

But Astarion is afraid they will never learn the answer to either of their questions. Alethaine opens her mouth and makes a deep breath as if suffocating. Something doesn’t allow her to breathe and she makes hissing sounds. Her little eyes are watery - by this time she can only cry.

So can her parents.

“I wouldn’t want to, I think,” Tiriel says. “If she is dhampir it means she is alone. Even if other spawns have children too, what is the chance she will ever meet them?”

Astarion kisses Tiriel’s cheek. if Alethaine dies, they bury her and leave. Daggerlake is a welcoming town but it will be a place of sorrow for them.

Tiriel adjusts herself a bit.

“Fuck” she mutters. Astarion immediately smells the blood. Tiriel’s thumb is bleeding. “A fucking splinter.”

Alethaine cries at the top of her lungs.

Astarion stares at his daughter with shock. She screams with the strength they didn’t know she posseses. It’s desperate. Angry.

Demanding.

This moment she doesn’t sound like a child. She sounds like a little beast.

Before Astarion makes up any coherent thought, Tiriel puts her bleeding thumb to Alethaine’s lips, making the blood pour into her mouth.

“Tiriel, what are you doing?”

Tiriel doesn’t answer. The girl makes sucking movements as her mother squeezes drops of blood from her finger.

And then her dark eyes turn red.

They glow in the half-lit room like two tiny lights.

Tiriel puts her fingers away and Alethaine makes a disgruntled sound. Her elven ears twitch.

The eyes stop glowing so intensely and return to their natural black color.

And then Alethaine laughs.

She is kicking her legs and stretching her arms to her parents.

The girl is happy. Happy like a well-fed vampire.

“Astarion, look at her gums.”

Two baby fangs. Very small, almost kitten-like.

“It wasn’t a fever,” Astarion mutters. “It was a bloodlust.”

Of course… If she was older she would just try to get blood from somewhere.

But when you are five months old you can’t do a lot of things.

Poor girl, how she suffered those two days.

Is dhampir bloodlust the same as vampiric? Was she feeling her stomach being ripped apart, her throat hurting and bleeding? Maybe it was even worse for her? Maybe her mortal nature was fighting the bloodthirsty monster, causing Alethaine to cry in pain?

Helpless baby alone with her pain and fear while her parents didn't think of the most obvious explanation.

** Astarion sits at the doorstep with a plushie doll in his hands. The toy has white hair and elven ears, and now Astarion is stitching small fangs to its mouth.

The tears prickle his eyes.

He’s condemned his child for a life of hardships. For loneliness, for constant war against herself. If someday Alethaine shows up at his doorstep blaming him for all her tragedies, he will not even try to defend himself.

“No, kitten, I don’t care if you don’t like it! I can’t breastfeed you anymore and I am not giving you any blood! You eat normal food!” He hears Tiriel’s voice from inside the house.

Alethaine isn’t going to comply easily.

Then he hears footsteps from behind.

“What are you doing?” Tiriel asks.

“Adding fangs to her toy.”

Tiriel sits beside him.

“You have mash in your hair.” Astarion notices

“I know. You should see the other girl. How do you feel about giving her a bath?”

“I don't think you should ask. It’s my child. It seems like… even more mine now.”

“Hey, don't be upset. We knew it was possible.”

“I just… Her eyes, Tiriel, you saw them.They were like theirs… My siblings…Cazador… the same fucking glowing eyes as if she was a vampire, too!”

“It’s because of blood. She doesn’t have to drink it, she can eat normal food.”

“We should have found the cure before making a child.”

“But we didn’t find any.”

Tiriel takes a wet piece of rag and wipes her hair. “Astarion, I am going to talk to you seriously and, please, pay attention to every word I say.”

“I am all pointy ears, my love.”

“I was beaten and humiliated daily for who I was. My family didn't even give me a name because they despised me. But when I met elves for the first time they called me “garbage” - Biir. Half-something, half a person. Half elves aren't uncommon. There are surprisingly many in big cities. But I’ve been taught to despise my body, to hate my ears, to be embarrassed of my own existence. And our daughter is a dhampir. And I am sure there aren’t many like her. This world will have a thousand opportunities to shove her differences up to her nose. This world will teach Alethaine to hate herself. I can guarantee you she will try to pull her fangs out or maybe will ask someone to knock them out. She will cover herself not to let people see how pale she truly is. And we must not be a part of her problems.”

“Tiriel, I would never - “

“She is a girl, Astarion. Her image of herself will be formed mostly by you, not by me. The way you will perceive her will be the way she will see herself. And if she sees resentment, if she senses your sorrows that she isn’t a normal child, she will start hating herself. She will feel it. And it will stay with her till her long days are over.”

“Tiriel, what exactly in my behavior tells you that I am going to mistreat her? She is my child! She is…”

“I didn’t mean to ignore the fact she is a dhampir. You must cherish her differences. We must love her for being a dhampir. We must form this idea that it’s good she is a dhampir.”

Astarion chuckles. To be honest, he has never accepted his vampirism. It happened against his will and he would give anything to get rid of it. It is a curse. And now… his daughter is cursed as well.

“Astarion, this is important. Even the tiniest things will affect her. And we will have to deal with the consequences.”

The girl cries for her parents, and Tiriel, planting a kiss on Astarion’s forehead, returns inside.

Several hours later, when a washed and clean-clothed Alethaine is happily lying on her parents' bed and trying to make some coherent movements, Astarion finally finds enough moral strength to accept the reality.

He takes his daughter in his arms and walks up to the ceiling. The girl laughs and tries to bite him.

"Aren't you the cutest dhampir in Faerûn?" he mutters. "I can't wait to teach you how to use those fangs in battle. You will be deadly, my princess! But don't bite your mother, that's my prerogative."

--

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[happybird16]

•Chapter One•

Naga!Levi Ackerman/Fem!Reader

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

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

Chapter warnings: Horror vibes, mystery

Chapter length: 3.7k

Ao3 Link

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

Note: Welcome to my spin on Mermay! I have roughly 7/12 chapters done-ish for this! Comments and reblogs are always welcome!! I could use the inspo to continue lol!

Next chapter

You shouldn't be here.

Giant, ancient trees tower above, their twisted and gnarled branches interwoven to create a dense, impenetrable canopy that blankets the ground in an engulfing darkness. These colossal trees are so massive that even ten people, hand in hand, would struggle to encircle their trunks. In the face of such enormity, you feel minuscule, like a tiny mouse in a vast expanse, overshadowed by the towering branches that stretch higher than anything you've ever witnessed.

In your childhood, the edge of this forest marked the distant boundary of your small village. As young children, you and your friends would engage in daring games, cautiously venturing beneath the green canopy one foot at a time. Each step toward the darkness held a thrill, with adrenaline surging in your ears and laughter bubbling in your throat. You remember playfully nudging each other to go deeper, whispering tales of monsters until the alarmed cries of someone's parents would bring the game to an abrupt halt. It was all innocent play, a group of children tempting danger and challenging one another to venture further into the ominous jaws of the forest.

The Maw.

Now, every step forward fills you with an overwhelming sense of dread. The childlike wonder that once fueled your adventures has vanished, replaced by a pounding heart lodged in your throat. The once enticing forest now instills a deep sense of apprehension and unease.

You're in The Maw.

It's named such because it is a place that devours all who dare to venture into its depths. It teems with perilous creatures, their forms etched in your mind with vivid clarity—claws that rend, teeth that tear, and the sight of crimson blood staining the ground. The inhabitants of this forsaken realm include both savage beasts and eerie abominations, a chilling blend of half-human hybrids, demons, and towering giants. While rare for these creatures to stray beyond the forest's edge into your humble farming village, the disappearances of unsuspecting villagers were all too frequent. Vanished without a trace, they would be snatched from their beds in the dead of night or plucked from the fields in broad daylight. Some incidents left behind gruesome remnants of carnage, while others left nothing but an eerie absence. The Maw's hunger was insatiable, claiming lives and leaving a haunting sense of dread in its wake.

“F-ffuck,” you stutter, fighting against a stiff breeze to keep the hood of your cloak tight to your ears. It's cold. Fucking freezing actually. With each labored step, your body fights against the biting cold that gnaws at your skin. The hood of your cloak strains against the relentless wind, desperate to shield your ears from its icy grip. The weather has turned unforgiving since you entered the forest.

What began as a serene sunrise, painting the sky with hues of pink and yellow, has given way to a harsh reality. The gentle dusting of snow beneath your feet has transformed into a thick, heavy flurry. The temperature has plummeted, sending shards of icy pain with every breath you take. The bone-chilling cold seeps into your very core, inflicting aches that reverberate through your entire being. Each step is an agonizing struggle, your weary knees protesting with every creak. It feels as though you've never walked this far before, the physical toll becoming increasingly demanding with each passing moment.

Can't go back. Can't go back.

In the relentless darkness, your sense of time has become distorted, making it impossible to gauge how long you've been journeying through this treacherous forest. It feels like hours, perhaps even most of a day, has passed since you first set foot on this path. The initial signs of caution marked your entry into this perilous realm, with wooden boards warning of the impending danger, are long behind you. The words "Turn Back" and "Danger" were hastily scrawled in bright red, urging you to reconsider your course. The last sign you recall, which feels like an eternity ago, ominously proclaimed "Death Ahead."

The biting cold has taken its toll, numbing your body and rendering your toes distant and fuzzy within the confines of your leather boots. The wind howls in your ears, drowning out all other sounds, but occasionally you catch the panicked shuffling of small creatures seeking refuge from the tempest. Every noise, no matter how faint, puts you on edge, heightening your anxiety with each passing moment. Progress becomes increasingly arduous as you press forward, battling against the biting cold and the relentless forces of nature.

The oppressive darkness seems to intensify the longer the day drags on, engulfing your surroundings and adding to your growing fatigue. You struggle to maintain your balance, feeling the weight of exhaustion in every step. The biting cold cuts through your clothing, seeping into your bones, and you tightly wrap your coat around yourself in a feeble attempt to shield against the frigid air.

With determination in your voice, you mutter to yourself, "Can't go back. Can't go back." Despite the numbing cold and the seemingly endless journey, turning back is not an option. You press on, summoning whatever strength remains within you.

As you trudge forward, a brief break in the dense canopy allows a glimpse of the sky above. However, there is no welcoming sight of an evening sky with its fading hues. Instead, a tumultuous scene unfolds with dark and furious clouds obscuring any sense of time. In the distance, the white-capped peaks of The Spine stand resolute, yet seemingly no closer than when you first embarked on this arduous trek. Doubt begins to creep in, and you repeat to yourself, "I can't. I can't."

But you have to. Of course there'd be a storm. Just your luck.

The bitter cold continues to gnaw at your body, its icy grip sapping your strength and resolve. Hopefully the weather convinced any hungry mouths to stay home. The storm raging around you adds to the foreboding atmosphere, amplifying your sense of vulnerability. You can’t help but feel a sense of grim irony that the weather itself might be the cause of your demise before any of the lurking dangers within The Maw.

Navigating through the labyrinthine depths of The Maw is no easy feat, especially without a clear destination in mind. The absence of a guide or a map leaves you relying solely on your instincts and determination. The path ahead remains shrouded in darkness, and uncertainty tugs at your thoughts. You don't even know where the fuck you're going.

Despite the doubts and the physical strain, you carry on, propelled by a mix of resilience and desperation. The legacy of fear and caution instilled by your village only adds to the weight on your shoulders, reminding you of the countless tales of those who ventured deeper into this forbidden territory and never returned.

The heavy snow has engulfed your legs, reaching up past your shins and creeping closer to your knees. Each step is an arduous struggle, accompanied by a resounding crunch and leaving behind a trail of deep boot prints in the snow.

The words escape your lips in a desperate whisper, “Shelter. Need to find shelter.” Your teeth chatter uncontrollably, and you hunch your shoulders in a futile attempt to shield yourself from the biting wind that threatens to knock you off balance. The hood of your cloak is pulled down as far as it can go, obscuring your vision, and you strain to see the path ahead. Forward is the only option. Forward is the only way to endure.

The Spine dominates your thoughts, an unwavering destination that holds the key to your quest. It is the mountain range at the heart of The Maw, and you must reach its base. There is no turning back, no retreat, not unless you find them.

The weight of the task ahead feels insurmountable, overwhelming you with a crushing sense of impossibility. The magnitude of the journey, coupled with the harsh realities of The Maw, fuels a nagging belief that survival is unattainable. The specter of death looms ominously, casting its dark shadow over your thoughts.

You're going to die out here.

An abrupt sound shatters the eerie silence, reverberating through the desolate expanse of The Maw. It resonates with a weight that sends shivers down your spine, amplifying your sense of unease. Instinctively, your hand reaches for the knife attached to your belt loop, its familiar weight grounding you in this perilous moment. It was your fathers hunting knife, the only thing you have left besides the clothes on your back and a small bit of supplies in your bag.

As your fingers clasp around the knife’s handle, a surge of adrenaline courses through your veins, mingling with the cold that permeates the air. The tremor in your hand betrays a mix of fear and the biting chill that surrounds you. Your grip tightens, seeking solace in the solid presence of the blade as you brace yourself for whatever lurks in the darkness.

Someone -something- curses in the distance. The distant swear cuts through the air, resonating with a chilling familiarity that freezes your very core. It echoes with a human quality, evoking haunting memories of voices that once whispered from the edge of The Maw during your childhood summers. Those beguiling voices, whether belonging to silver-tongued demons or ravenous wendigos, possessed a deceptive innocence, luring the unwary towards their perilous embrace. They wore the guise of familiarity, mimicking loved ones and casting their sinister spell.

But this time, the sound does not persist. It does not morph into the soothing tones of your mother's voice or the mischievous giggles of your younger brother. Instead, an unsettling silence descends upon the forest, amplifying the eerie stillness that pervades the surroundings. The once-constant symphony of rustling leaves and distant whispers is replaced by an oppressive hush, broken only by the howling wind that pierces your ears.

The skeletal branches of the ancient trees loom ahead, their gnarled forms resembling bony fingers reaching out in a macabre invitation. The forest, now stripped of its foliage, feels even more sinister, as if the very essence of its secrets and lurking dangers is concentrated in this barren landscape. Your instincts scream at you to tread cautiously, to be alert to the unseen perils that may lie in wait within the shadows.

Prey.

You have the sudden, panicky realization that you’re prey. The thought builds a solid, uncomfortable itch between your shoulder blades. Every fiber of your being trembles with the realization that you are nothing more than some predator's next quarry in this treacherous domain. The weight of vulnerability settles upon you like a suffocating shroud, your senses heightened to the point of hypersensitivity. There could be something hungry watching you in the distance, just waiting for you to tire yourself out. The notion of unseen eyes fixated upon your weary form fuels a primal panic, evoking a primal fight-or-flight response deep within your core.

Your fingers, numbed by the biting cold, clench around the knife, its presence offering a meager reassurance in this harrowing moment. With determined resolve, you steady your breathing, allowing each inhalation to calm your racing heart. One deliberate step at a time, you advance through the snow-laden terrain, your movements slow and measured, as if treading upon fragile ice.

Every crunch of snow beneath your boots feels deafening, resonating through the wintry silence. The haunting stillness amplifies the tension, heightening the suspense as you inch closer to the source of the disturbance.

It's a man, slumped against the trunk of a massive tree, his body partly concealed by the swiftly accumulating snow. As you cautiously draw nearer, you observe his disheveled state, lying motionless on his side. Your attention is immediately drawn to his coat, a patchwork of furs and skins stitched together from different animals. The garment stands out as peculiar, though it appears to provide warmth in this frigid environment.

There's someone else out here? The presence of another person this far into The Maw surprises you. Something along the back of your mind flares red in warning, reminding you of the possibility that this could be a trap. With this warning at the back of your thoughts, you proceed with caution, prepared for any untoward situation that may arise.

Knife held steady, you kneel next to his form. The snow immediately soaks through the material of your pants, burning cold against your skin.

With your knife still in hand, you carefully lower yourself beside the man, the icy snow seeping through your pants and chilling your skin. “Hey,” you call quietly, eyes assessing the stranger's face.

The thought crosses your mind: What if he's in a situation similar to yours? Lost and vulnerable in this treacherous wilderness, in desperate need of assistance?

Despite being unconscious, the man continues to shiver uncontrollably. His trembling is so intense that it causes the snow around him to tremble as well. The exposed patches of skin beneath his peculiar coat are inflamed, their bright pink hue indicative of discomfort. His features appear slack, his hair splayed out against the snowy ground, forming a stark contrast of black against white. You observe that his lips have taken on a slight bluish tint. Worry grips your heart as you implore, "Hey, you need to wake up. We have to get you up."

With mounting urgency, you observe the man's lack of response as his head remains nestled in the snow, becoming adorned with a delicate layer of white flakes. The sound of the knife slipping back into its sheath echoes softly, as your hands instinctively reach out to press against the stranger's shoulders in a desperate attempt to rouse him. "Hey, come on!" you plead.

Although his chest rises and falls with each shuddering breath, indicating that he is indeed alive, you still place a finger on his neck to feel for a pulse. It's slow, alarmingly sluggish compared to your own racing heartbeat. "Fuck! Wake up, wake up, wake up!" you chant urgently, slapping his cheeks with your gloved fingers. His skin feels unnaturally cold, even through the protective layer of your gloves.

As the man's eyes flutter open, his brow furrows with confusion, and he mumbles something barely audible. His head lolls back into the snow, and he shifts, his elbow digging into the snowy ground.

"Hey, hi. That's it. Look at me," you urge, your voice filled with a mix of concern and determination. You grasp his shoulders and gently tug, trying to encourage him to sit up. "Come on, you can't stay here. You need to get up. Is there somewhere warm nearby?"

His eyes finally open fully, revealing a glimpse of gray irises before they quickly close again. "No, no, no, come on!" you implore, cupping the base of his skull with one hand and using your other hand to deliver a firm but gentle slap to his cheek, attempting to bring him back to consciousness.

If he's here, there must be some sort of human settlement nearby. Somewhere warm and safe.

As you contemplate the possibility, your attention is abruptly drawn to your left by a movement in the snow. Panic grips you as you witness something massive and black emerging from beneath a thick layer of white.

"F-Fuck!" you scream, unable to contain your shock and fear. Your eyes widen as you realize it's a colossal snake tail, stretching out straight and partially buried in the snow. The unexpected sight causes you to lose your balance, and you fall back onto the cold ground, landing on your backside. "What the fuck!" you exclaim, your voice filled with a mix of terror and disbelief.

He's a Naga. An actual Naga, half snake half man. You've only heard of them in legends, tales whispered back and forth among the children of your village. Even in the darkness of the forest, his black scales glitter up at you like diamonds.

Stuck in your awe, now waist deep in the snow, you're suddenly reminded just how cold it is. Even with excited adrenaline making your limbs all jittery and sweaty, it's still freezing. The snow is falling more rapidly now, wind whistling through the trees to twist and warp their smaller branches.

Surging forward onto your knees, you move to cup his face yet again, intending to continue your prodding. If only you could get him up, he could save you both.

“Hsssssssh,” he hisses at you, teeth bared. His head doesn't rise, resting heavy in the snow, but a jaw full of sharp fangs widens in full aggressive display right next to your hand. Silvery eyes suddenly wide and alert, he glares up at you with a vicious heat, flaring a pointed tongue out to taste the air. “Hhhuman,” his nose curls up at the word.

The sight of his long, white incisors strikes cold fear into your heart. It brings you pause, fingers trembling against his pale cheek. “H-hey,” you start shakily, struggling to meet his gaze. His pupils are sharp, the thin pin prick lines of a predator. When he blinks, a thin translucent membrane precedes the eyelid, startlingly inhuman. You pause for a moment, your fingers still trembling against his pale cheek. Despite the fear coursing through you, you muster the courage to speak, your voice quivering. Meeting his gaze, you try to convey empathy and urgency.

“Hey,” you stutter, your voice barely audible as you try again. “I understand you’re wary, but we can’t stay here. It’s dangerously cold. We need to find shelter. Please, let’s get up and find somewhere warm.”

“Cold,” he repeats with a hiss. Claws dig into the snow by your knee. He blinks heavily, struggling, “Why…”

He’s clearly disoriented, prompting you to speak slowly and gently, trying to guide him to sit up.

“Come on! We need to find somewhere nearby, somewhere warm,” you encourage, tugging at his shoulders in an attempt to rouse him from his daze.

“Warm,” he mutters, eyes fluttering with a vague sense of recognition. Slowly, he rises, causing his magnificent, 20-foot-long tail to shake off the snowy coating. Its pitch-black scales glisten in the dim light, an awe-inspiring sight. “Nest.”

“Do you live somewhere nearby?” you inquire, keeping a close eye on his movements. Once he manages to prop himself up on the bend of his tail, he leans heavily against your side, almost toppling you over. With one hand on his back for support, you guide him forward, urging him to lead the way.

“Where is your nest?” you ask, hoping he can direct you to a warm and safe place nearby.

"Cave," he slurs, his voice muffled against your neck. As he stands upright, you realize he's slightly shorter than you. His heavy eyes close and open, struggling to stay alert. He trembles against your side, his senses keen as he tastes the air once more. "Human. Don't need your help."

The mention of a cave ignites a spark of hope within you. If there's a cave, it must be located on the edge of The Spine, nestled among the rocks on the mountainside. With renewed determination, you wrap your arm around his back, fingers pressing gently into the small of his waist. "Come on. Can you guide me there?" you implore, relying on his knowledge to find the refuge you both desperately need.

“Mhmmm,” he mutters nonsensically as his face burrows into the warmth of your neck, his cold nose pressing against your collarbone. He doesn’t respond to your question, instead leaning heavily against your side. “Warm.”

“Hey hey,” you pat his hip, trying to pull him forward as you take a step forward. “Don't fall asleep again. Come on, move with me.” He does, tail sliding back and forth through the snow behind your huddled forms.

The progress is slow and arduous, each step a struggle as you practically drag him forward through the snow. The falling snow obscures your vision, but you spot a faint path ahead, partially covered by fresh snowfall. The wide trail left by his tail serves as a guide, leading you deeper into the wintry landscape.

"Come on, almost there," you urge, your voice strained. The weight of his body feels overwhelming, causing your bones to protest with each movement. The biting cold sears your face and ears, and the wetness on your pants becomes a painful reminder of the freezing temperatures. You can only imagine the suffering the man at your side endures. His fur coat, now soaked through, adds to his misery, and you feel his trembling against your side. How long has he been out here, exposed to the elements?

Throughout the entire journey, the Naga’s delirious muttering continues against your neck. His words are incoherent, mixed with occasional hisses and the repeated mention of warmth. You even feel the wet brush of his forked tongue against your skin at one point. He clings to you, one arm draped across your back, fingers digging into your far hip.

“There we go,” you gasp, the strain evident in your heaving chest as you continue pulling him forward. The physical exertion keeps you warm, though having sweat-soaked clothes in the midst of the storm is far from ideal. As you near the base of The Spine, the path grows more treacherous. The rugged terrain, with its sharp rocks and hidden crevices beneath the thick snow, demands careful navigation. Each step becomes a deliberate effort, further slowing your progress.

The winds howl fiercely, swirling the snow around you in a blinding flurry. It’s difficult to keep your bearings, but you know you can’t afford to stop. The cave must be near, offering the possibility of respite from the harsh elements. You cling to that thought, pushing through the exhaustion and pain.

After what feels like an eternity, you catch sight of a dark opening nestled among the rocks. It's the cave you've been searching for. Relief floods through you, pushing you forward with renewed determination. With every ounce of energy you can muster, you guide the Naga towards the entrance. It's camouflaged amidst the snow-covered rocks, barely noticeable. The opening is a narrow crack in the cliff side, just wide enough for you to squeeze through.

You pull him in behind you, tugging at his arm. He manages to squeeze himself inside, and the moment he fully enters the warm cavern, he succumbs to unconsciousness.

[hypnos333]

I̸̧̿̈́̋͆ ̸̊͘ͅm̵̧̢̡̨̬̥͖̘͓̃̑́̉̂̓̈̿́͝͠ì̸̛̠̬͙̖͙̻̥̞͋̀̏̓͆̋͘š̴͚͙̤̈́̅͗̇͗͆̾͌͌̇ş̵̢̭͇̼̲̳̺͔͓̼̬̌ ̸͙̩͚̬̱̠͈̻͕͇̈́̅̑͐̃̂̋͊͂͌̂͐͛̍̅y̴̥̖͕̭̜̞̰͍̦̮͌̽̏̄̈́̈́͌͋̐̐̅ơ̴̭̝̬̥̫̝̔̑͐́̂̃́̀͑͜u̸̖̹̘͊̆̒́̈͛̽̎̇̍͘͠͝ͅ

eunhyuk x Reader

Synopsis: After Eunhyuk death you couldn’t heal until you killed yourself but survived but your memories are blank about Eunhyuk making Ji-soo explain it to you.

After green house building collapsed and leaving eunhyuk behind. Everyone was worried for your wellbeing especially Eun-yo. Out of the two You took it the worse.

Nobody could blame you though, after all before all this it was just them. Yoo-ri said to just give you time and that you would get better with time and the most important thing is to give you support right now.

But I think we all know deep inside with every passing day. You were getting worse.

And I think that day made it clear.

After the incident- You just, you gave up in a way.

We thought you were at your breaking point so we watched you closely and made sure one of us was with you at all times.

You weren’t talking…. But then again watching you two be so happy just for one of you to die would made everyone understand. But maybe, Forever was word meant for memories and not people

Memories Memories Memories Memories

“Please do this for me” Eunhyuk pleaded as tears streamed down your face. “N-No you’re asking a lot from me right now, j-just stay with me” You begged holding on to him tightly.

Eunhyuk hear broke see you like this. Seeing you cry.

“My love it’s no secret that we are running out of time” Eunhyuk choked out before gently giving her one more kiss. They both taste the saltiness of their tears in the kiss. None of them wanted to let one another go and You were gonna risk everything to stay with him.

“I love you” Eunhyuk said as he pulled away from her. “I love you too” You sobbed as the group dragged you away as you desperately try to go back to him but Eun-yo dragged you trying to hide her own sadness.

As you look back he wasn’t in sight no more. He was gone…. And he wasn’t coming back at least that’s what you believed.

You jumped off a building days later Well at least tried too everything was froggy now it would be hard to comprehend why you did it.

But now back in the present where you don’t remember him. Ji-Soo only told you about the end and not the beginning.

You always believe there is a beginning you just have to search deeper to find it. So you decor to go missing to figure out everything on your own.

She met interesting people on the way back to green home apartments, and she surprisingly met nice monsters. She met this baby monster so she decided to take it as her own.

The baby had a hole in its chest so soldiers must of found it. But you liked it’s company nonetheless.

When she found green home apartments. She walked through it with the little monster as they hold hand. It was oddly quiet until she heard rumbling under the cement of the fallen building.

Her scent awoken him. Her peach sunrise soup and perfume still lingers on her skin making him awaken.

With no clothes and eyes pitch black he walked towards you like he was in a trance. You slowly backed up, flustered at the naked man in front of you but scared of what the monster might do.

The little monster hid behind her as they were. cornered so she closed her eyes waiting for a hit or whatever to come.

But all the monster did was tuck a piece of hair behind her ear before kissing her cheek.

“I miss you”