#hear the wind rustling through the leafs

[justauthoring]

the trees told me about you.

the trees whisper to you and gojo thinks that makes you special.

a/n: i just started watching frieren and i NEEDED something fantasy okay???? also, i love him <3

pairing: prince!gojo satoru x f!elf!reader

The trees whisper to you.

Whisper words that ghost past your ears and leave your eyes sparkling with warmth, staring at the twinkling green leafs that bristle in the wind. 

No one else can hear them, except for you. 

Some think you're mad, others just don’t like you cause you’re different – either way, you’ve long ago learned not to care.

Because the trees speak to you, tell you secrets of the world and bring you the love you’ve never felt elsewhere. They don’t judge you because you look different, and they make you feel included – loved.

So even though you’re glared at and cruel words are whispered behind your back;

She’s not right. Spending her days talking to trees…

They say her parents abandoned her when she was young… you don’t have to wonder why.

What a lonely life… but no one wants to talk to a girl who thinks trees speak.

You’ve learned that there’s no point worrying and no point in trying to change their minds. 

A life of solitude is one you’ve accepted for yourself. And besides, you don’t feel all that alone in the first, shrouded by trees, protected from the small, the feeling of the dirt and grass and earth beneath your fingers as you smile and laugh and talk.

Yeah, you don’t feel alone at all.

At least, until you meet him.

-

“You know they all think you’re insane, right?”

A moment ago, you’d been positive you’d been alone. You hadn’t heard him walk up, the crunch of his footsteps along the forest floor or even the rustling of his clothing; so when you hear his voice, so much louder, harsher, sharper than the voices that whisper in your ears, it makes you jump.

You’re startled, incredibly so. You lose your footing beneath you, your bum hitting the ground harshly as you turn your head to face the voice, worrying just who it was that had snuck up on you.

It’s a boy. Roughly your age, or at least you assume so. He’s tall. Even though you’re on the ground, you know he’d tower over you. He’s got bright white hair that shifts to a purple hue when the sun hits him just right. And his eyes are a striking blue that rivals even the sky and unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

You’d lived in your small village all your life and you’re positive you’ve never seen this boy before.

“Who… who are you?” Your words come out shakier than you want but then again, you’re not all that accustomed to speaking to others. Most of your time is spent listening… and even you know there’s a difference between listening to trees and real people. You’ve never had someone speak so directly to you before – most of the time, they opt for whispering behind your back even though both you and them are aware you can hear them.

Still, you force yourself to speak; “what are you doing here?”

He’s grinning. Ear to ear. And it’s wide and it’s bright and there’s a twinkle in his eyes that seems some sort of mischievous, yet, the smile feels real and genuine and almost… kind(?).

Then, he’s crouching, moving so he’s more level to you and his head tilts to the right. “Gojo Satoru,” he introduces, saying his name with pride. “And I am going for a light stroll in the woods.”

Gojo Satoru…

Gojo…

That’s… that’s last the name of the king—

Your eyes widen, instantly shifting to meet his gaze while he continues to just smile at you, bright and happy, hands clasped in front of him without a care in the world. You take in his clothes properly then, the detailing and the quality of the fabric, hemmed with laces – clothes you’ve never even had half enough coin to buy.

Clothes you’d never be able to buy.

You’d heard the King had a son but you’d never seen him or any drawings of him either.

A boy that looks like this though? Looks like he could be the King’s son.

“I ventured through the village beforehand,” he gestures over his shoulder. “You are not well-liked.” 

You blink out of your daze, frowning at his words.

Shifting, you move so you’re sitting straighter, straightening out your blouse as you glare at him. “That’s rather rude.”

He shrugs, still grinning. “You didn’t deny it though.”

And you frown because you know he’s right.

“Okay, so, what’s the King’s son doing taking a stroll in the woods well outside of the castle grounds?”  

He pauses, raising a brow; “so you did recognize me…” He hums lightly, pointing at you. 

You nod; “yes, I did.”

You’re well aware that your lack of respect for the King’s son could get you arrested, or worse. But, you don't care all that much. You figure that Gojo would’ve done something by now if he was really bothered by it, and… well, he’s the one who snuck up on you in the first place.

Laughing lightly, Gojo shrugs; “couldn’t stand being there anymore.”

You raise a brow; “the castle?”

He nods. “It’s so… stuffy! Gods, no one knows how to have any fun in there! And I'm constantly getting reprimanded for trying to liven the place up a little.” His words are dramatic, doubled by his actions as he wildly waves his hands around, rolling his eyes as he sulks. “You’d think royalty, with all the money we have, would know how to make things at least a little exciting… but no! They’re dreadfully boring.”

He finishes his rambling with a loud huff, and a second passes before you burst out in laughter.

Gojo blinks at you, once, twice, stunned before he’s grinning once more.

“That’s funny?” He asks, watching you amusedly.

Clutching at your stomach, you shake your head; “sorry,” you gasp. “I just never expected the King’s son to be so… un-princely?”

Chuckling, Gojo’s eyes trail your figure as you continue to laugh; “no?”

“No,” you snort, calming yourself down. Then, a second later, you glance at him; “so you ran away?”

“For now,” he agrees. “And you?”

You blink; “what about me?”

“What are you doing here?”

Your smile fades. “Well… you heard.”

“So, you really do talk to trees?”

You pause, bewildered. “You believe me?”

“Why would you lie?”

And it’s the first time you’ve heard someone say that to you… because, yes, why would you lie? Why would you make all this up?

And yet he’s the first one who believes you.

“I’ve never seen someone like you before you, you know,” he shuffles closer and your breath halts, eyeing him as he leans in. “I thought you all died out.”

Subconsciously, your fingers move to touch the tip of your pointy ears that’s hidden by your hair. “We did,” you whisper, “it’s just me.”

Resting his head on his crossed arms, Gojo fidgets in the spot. “That’s unfortunate.”

You hum, not sure how else to respond. It was unfortunate and sad, but no one else had ever seemed to think so. At least not anyone in your village. Scorned and judged because of your smaller stature and your pointy ears… you were a freak amongst humans in your village and they constantly liked to remind you of the fact.

“You think the trees talk to you because you’re different?”

Wide eyed, you turn to Gojo. “What?”

“I don’t hear them,” he frowns, and he strains his ear, cupping it for emphasis as if that’ll help. “And I’m royalty. They should talk to me… but they don’t. I bet it’s because you’re an elf. Makes you extra special then.”

Lips parting, you glance around, taking in the trees, hearing the whispers that have softened, before turning back to his blue eyes. “More special than the prince?”

He smirks; “I guess,” he obliges, chuckling. “Just this once.”

You smile. A real, genuine smile.

“You shouldn’t hide them, either.”

“Hm?”

“Your ears,” he explains, reaching forward. You barely have time to react before he’s brushing back your hair, the tips of his fingers brushing against the skin of your ears as he tucks the hair behind, revealing your insecurity to his eyes. He doesn’t look away, and panicked, you watch him, overwhelmed by how close he suddenly is, breath stuck in the back of your throat.

But he doesn’t look disgusted or freaked out.

He looks… amazed.

“You shouldn’t hide them,” his gaze shifts back to yours, grinning again but this time it’s softer, more demure. “They’re what make you you.”

“They make me look strange. Different,” you mumble to yourself, lowering your gaze as you attempt to pull your hair back out from behind your ear.

Gojo grabs your wrist, small in his own grasp, halting your movements.

You turn to him with parted lips.

“No,” he whispers and it’s the softest he’s sounded, but yet, it’s still so confident. Like he doesn’t doubt a single word he says. “No, they make you special.”

You stare back at him, stunned. But you don’t pull away and you don’t move. You like it, having him this close. This boy who you've just met. This boy who is the King’s son. The prince. Next in line for the throne.

This boy who’s made you feel more normal than you ever have your entire life.

But then he’s pulling away, despite the disappointment that burns through you, standing up straight as you crane your head up to look at him. He’s grinning, ear to ear again, as he takes small steps back.

“I should go,” he explains, laughing. “My father is probably throwing a fit. But, come back tomorrow okay?”

You raise a brow, tilting your head in wonder.

He just laughs.

“I plan to run away again.” 

Is all he says and then he’s turning, offering you a short wave before disappearing through the thick of the trees, leaving you to yourself and the whispers.

You stare at the place he left, undeniably grinning from ear to ear yourself now.

“Yes,” you nod to the whispers. “I think I like him too.”

[kefiteria]

to be loved by a poet

char: Kazuha x Reader

tags: establish relationship,fluff, romantic gestures

A gentle breeze caressed your cheek, carrying with it the warmth of a sun setting over the horizon. Beneath the sprawling tree in the Guyun Stone Forest, two mortals found solace in each other’s company. Kazuha, with a tender glint in his eyes, coaxed a melody from a leaf, its tranquil notes mingling with the whispers of the wind.

“How does it sound? I tried to recreate the wind’s voice from our last journey, to share its essence with you.” Kazuha asked, with his smile as serene as the sunset.

“It’s beautiful! It reminds me of those quiet hills where the wind sings softly.” you replied, savoring an egg tart from your plate, a moment of shared peace.

Kazuha's gaze softened as he wiped a stray crumb from the corner of your lips. “In my eyes, a deity feasts upon a humble treat, yet it is my heart you devour. How has my mortal soul come to deserve such divine grace?”

A smiled crept up your face at Kazuha's poetic words, the sincerity in his eyes warming your heart even more than the sun overhead. You put down the egg tart and smiled back at him, the tranquility of the moment wrapping around you both like a gentle embrace. “You always know the right words to say, Kazuha.” you replied softly, leaning closer to him.

“Moments like these feel like they belong to another world, a world where time slows down and all that exists is us.”

With his words flowed like a gentle river, each syllable a caress that soothed and uplifted. It felt as though the very essence of love and serenity was woven into his voice, creating an atmosphere of tranquility and warmth.

“Go on…" you murmured, captivated by the magic of his speech. “Continue, please. I am eager to hear your thoughts, for they bring such peace to my soul.”

He smiled with a tender light in his eyes, and resumed his lyrical musings, each word a balm to your spirit, resonating deeply within your heart. “The taste of egg tart on your lips, a sweetness I adore, yet pales before the essence of the heart that I implore. Oh, the heavens have bestowed a gift, so precious and divine, a glimpse of eternity, where your hand is held in mine.”

You smiled and eyes softening as you continued to listen to Kazuha reciting his poem. His voice was like a gentle breeze, each word a delicate petal carried on the wind.

“Your laughter is a song, a serenade to the night, guiding me like a lighthouse through the tempest's might. In your eyes, I see a reflection of the boundless sea…A promise of adventures that await both you and me.” Kazuha's words hung in the air, a silence fell between you, charged with the weight of his heartfelt confession.

With cheeks flushed a deep crimson with heart pounding with a mix of joy and embarrassment. You looked down, unable to meet his intense gaze, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “Kazuha, that was… breathtaking. I’ve never heard anything so beautiful. You have a way of making me feel like the most special person in the world.” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes softened as he took your hand, his thumb tracing gentle patterns on your skin. “If only I could capture this moment in a bottle, to cherish forever...” he murmured, his voice barely louder than the whispering breeze. “The world is vast and ever-changing, but here, with you, I find a stillness that eludes me everywhere else.”

Silence settled between you, the rustling leaves and distant calls of the ocean creating a symphony that filled the air. You closed your eyes, letting the sounds and sensations wash over you, grounding you in the peacefulness of the moment.

After a while, Kazuha spoke again, his voice is a projection of a soothing lullaby. “Do you ever wonder what lies beyond the horizon? What adventures await us in lands unknown?”

You nodded, gaze drifting towards the horizon where the sea met the sky. “I do. I dream of exploring new places, of seeing the world through different eyes. But right now, I can't imagine wanting to be anywhere but here, with you.”

Kazuha with his grip on your hand tightened slightly, a silent promise of many more moments like this to come. “Wherever our journeys take us, know that you will always have a place in my heart, a companion in every journey.”

Slowly you leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his presence seep into you. “And you in mine, Kazuha. Always.”

“And as the sun descends, painting the sky with gold, I wish to carve these moments into stories yet untold. For in the quietude of twilight, under the Guyun Stone's gaze, I find my heart entangled in your love’s endless maze.” Kazuha's lips brushed gently against your forehead as the sun dipped below the horizon, enveloping you in a warm, golden embrace.

The sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the landscape, you both remained under the tree, savoring the simple joy of being together.

In my eyes, a deity feasts upon a humble treat, yet it is my heart you devour. How has my mortal soul come to deserve such divine grace?

The taste of egg tart on your lips, a sweetness I adore, yet pales before the essence of the heart that I implore. Oh, the heavens have bestowed a gift, so precious and divine, a glimpse of eternity, where your hand is held in mine.

Your laughter is a song, a serenade to the night, guiding me like a lighthouse through the tempest's might. Then, in your eyes I see a reflection of the boundless sea. A promise of adventures that await both you and me.

The world is vast and ever-changing, but here, with you, I find a stillness that eludes me everywhere else. Wherever our journeys take us, know that you will always have a place in my heart, a companion in every journey.

And as the sun descends, painting the sky with gold, I wish to carve these moments into stories yet untold. For in the quietude of twilight, under the Guyun Stone's gaze, I find my heart entangled in your love’s endless maze.

[shadowdaddies]

Holiday Traditions

Lucien x fem!Reader fluff

Summary: Reader finds Lucien preparing for some of his childhood Autumn Equinox traditions, and decides to surprise him.

Wind whipped softly at your cheeks, late September air bringing a much needed reprieve from the exhausting heat August had brought this year. You smiled at the sight of a leaf, twirling in the breeze as it floated down from its branch to join the others scattered about the forest floor in a kaleidoscope of greens, oranges, and yellows. 

The sound of rustling foliage pulled your attention from the path to the Exiles’ Manor. A familiar head of long flaming hair brought a smile to your lips, his presence drawing you like a moth to the flame. 

Hearing the sound of your approach, Lucien looked over his shoulder from where he knelt on the ground, his returning smile sending heat pooling in your belly. You glanced beyond him to the small structure in front of him. A small structure had been built, its fine craftsmanship an indication of who had crafted the object. Lucien’s golden complexion flushed slightly at your curious gaze, your eyes roving eagerly over the small pyre he’d built, decorated beautifully with an assortment of berries, nuts, and what seized your attention most - two cornhusk dolls laid together at the front.

Kneeling in front of the arrangement, you reached a hand out and twined Lucien’s fingers through your own. “What is this?” you whispered, voice soft with awe.

Lucien squirmed slightly, a rare moment of self consciousness showing behind his charming facade. “It’s a Mabon Altar,” he nodded, reaching out to brush away a leaf that had fallen over the display. “It’s an Autumn Court tradition.”

His gaze flicked to yours, studying your reaction. “Each year, we - they - celebrate the Equinox with rituals, to honor the Mother, and to ask her for prosperity, protection, and balance.” He laughed dryly at his own words, mouth twisting into a wry smile as you carefully picked up one of the corn husk dolls. 

“My mother holds the traditions very sacred. The dolls are supposed to represent those we love, to pray for their good fortune.” Gaze swinging to the other doll which still sat on the earth, amber eye swam with emotion. “I hardly believe that,” he swallowed thickly, “but my mother always made dolls for each of my brothers and me. And one like this.” 

He held the doll, pulling it closer so you could see the intricate details Lucien had worked to cut and carve. The doll was darker than the one in your hand, the corn husk itself nearly as dark as the soil, while parts of it were painted gold as though to resemble the doll’s clothing. You looked to the doll in your own hand, studying the lighter hue of its husk, shades of red so much like Lucien’s. “This one is your mother?” you questioned softly.

Lucien nodded, a mournful smile playing on his lips. “It meant so much to her to create these each year. It makes me feel closer to her - even if I can’t be there in Autumn with her.”

Pulling your hand from his, you intertwined your arms and leaned against his warm frame. “And who is that?” you prodded, gently taking the other doll from him.

“I don’t know. I think it was just an idea of my mother’s - a symbol of hope for protection, or her future.” 

Setting the corn husk back in its place, you leaned to press a kiss to Lucien’s cheek. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I hope I can be here to celebrate the Equinox with you, if that is okay.”

His answering smile stole the air from your lungs, unbridled joy casting a ray of sunshine through him as Lucien stole your lips for another, deep kiss. “I can think of nothing that I would love more,” he purred, your insides melting at the suggestive tone. 

~~~

You were lounging on the pink sofa in Lucien’s lap days later when Twilight began to darken the sky. Flashing a conspiratorial grin to Vassa and Jurian, you excused yourself to your room, smiling at Lucien’s groan when the other two quickly did the same. 

In your room, you hurriedly grabbed the burgundy dress from your wardrobe, applying rouge to your lips before giving yourself an assessing look in the mirror. 

Yesterday during your visit to the Day Court on emissary business, you had asked Helion about the library’s books on Autumn Court’s Equinox traditions. The High Lord had shocked you by knowing plenty about their traditions himself, recalling the feast they had each year with different foods to represent the different Houses.

The way in which Helion spoke about the rituals held such a reverence, you couldn’t help but grow more excited to surprise Lucien with a party. You had thanked Helion - who bid you farewell with a mournful smile that oddly reminded you of Lucien’s - eager to race home and begin planning.

Exhaling a nervous breath, you swiped the final touches of makeup across your eyes before turning back to the living room.

“My vixen, you couldn’t stay away for-“

Whatever witty remark Lucien had planned died in his throat, mouth agape as he took you in. You were indeed the vixen, your dark red lips matching the tight fabric that donned your figure like a siren’s call to the male in front of you. Moving as though in a trance, Lucien swiftly stood from the couch, his hands finding purchase on your waist, shamelessly trailing up your body to feel the curves you’d put on display.

“What is this?” Lucien asked, his voice practically a growl with the self restraint he barely clung to. 

“This,” you purred, stepping back to offer him the full view of your body once more, “is what I wear to a party.” 

“A party?” he echoed, tongue flicking out over his bottom lip in intrigue. You simply hummed in response, lacing his fingers in your own as you led him towards the front door with a playful wink over your shoulder.

Opening the door of the manor, you smiled at how incredibly Vassa had pulled together the evening. Fae lights glowed like fireflies throughout the trees, illuminating the table that was set with an ornate dinner and fae wine. A symphonia played the gentle tune of a familiar orchestra, setting the mood for Jurian and Vassa as they swayed on the makeshift dance floor. 

“What is this?” Lucien breathed, hand still tight around your own. 

Smiling brightly at the wonder in his expression, you led him to the table where the others were now taking their seats. “I learned a bit more about Equinox traditions, and I wanted to surprise you with some new memories of a special holiday for you.”

Jurian coughed from across the table, earning an elbow to the ribs from Vassa and an eye roll from you. “Vassa helped a lot... And Jurian a little bit, as well,” you teased in response to the latter’s outraged expression.

“Thank you all, very much,” Lucien murmured, voice thick with emotion. You leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek before filling his plate with traditional Autumn celebration foods, laughing and drinking with your friends late into the night until the moon was high in the sky. 

“It’s time,” you whispered from where you leaned against Lucien’s warm chest. As midnight approached, you followed the path to Lucien’s altar, whispering your own silent prayers from behind as he lit the pyre with a flick of his wrist. 

Turning to face you, Lucien stood aglow in the firelight, his amber eyes and bright hair glowing like the sun. You smiled bashfully at his beauty, still in place as he walked up to you, and right past you. 

Stunned, you turned over your shoulder to find him standing on the dance floor, poised in a dramatic bow with his hand outstretched in askance. “My cunning vixen, will you do me the greatest honor of dancing with me?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his antics, earning a mischievous wink as Lucien spun you into his arms, your chest flush against his, hearts beating as one. The fire burned a soft crackle, illuminating the dark night as the symphonia began to play a slower sort of melody. “Thank you for sharing your holiday with me,” you murmured, cheek laid against Lucien’s chest as you swayed.

Lips pressed gently to the top of your head, lingering there for a long moment. Pulling away slightly, Lucien’s hand tucked under your chin as he guided your face to look at his. “Thank you for giving me new, sweet memories, every day,” he murmured, eyes glowing with emotion before they flicked downward, suddenly turning dark.

Wandering hands found their way back to you, Lucien pulling you impossibly close as his hands squeezed your ass appreciatively. “There is one part of you that will always be the sweetest, though,” he purred, leaning down to tug your earlobe between his teeth. “And I won’t be sleeping until I’ve had a taste.” Before you could react, Lucien tossed you over his shoulder, one hand holding you still as the other moved precariously further beneath your dress while he strode back towards the manor.

A Happy Equinox, indeed.

[doodle-pops]

Gentle Steps

Curufin x daughter!reader

A/N: If I had a dollar for the number of times I rewrote this, it wouldn’t be much, but I’d still have a few dollars. I had so many ideas when it came to writing this, I eventually settled on fluff and saved the angst for another time. He needs some soft content.

Warnings: none, fluffiness, toddler reader

Words: 1.1k

Synopsis: Curufin takes a moment to appreciate the joys of being a father from your perspective.

The sunlight filtered softly through the tall trees of your cosy home on the outskirts of Tirion, casting delicate patterns on the ground where you sat. The morning was cool, with a hint of the approaching summer, and the air was filled with the scent of pine and earth. Birds sang merrily in the branches above, their melodies blending with the soft rustling of leaves. You, a small bundle of curiosity and energy, were perched on a patch of soft grass, your tiny hands exploring the world around you.

Curufin watched you from a short distance, his sharp eyes softened with affection. The usually stern and meticulous craftsman was a different man when he was with you, his beloved daughter. It was in these moments, with you nestled in the crook of his arm or toddling at his side, that he allowed himself to slow down, to let go of the weight of his responsibilities, and simply enjoy the simple joy of being a father.

Your mother had been particularly tired this morning, the weariness of long days spent managing the household catching up with her. Curufin, seeing the fatigue in her eyes, had gently insisted that she rest, leaving you in his care. She had smiled, grateful for the respite, and now Curufin found himself alone with you, tasked with the delicate balance of guiding you as you explore the world.

Babbling happily to yourself, your words an endearing mix of sounds and almost words, as you patted the ground with your chubby hands. Your clothes were already dirt-covered, something your father chose to ignore, allowing you the joys of exploration. Crouching down beside you, his long, dark hair fell over his shoulders as he reached out to help you with a particularly stubborn leaf that had caught your attention.

“Look,” he said softly, his deep voice a comforting rumble. “It’s a leaf. It comes from the tree, up there.” He pointed upwards, and you followed his gesture with wide, curious eyes, your mouth forming a small 'o' of wonder.

“Gah!” you exclaimed, your tiny fingers brushing against the leaf’s surface, almost crushing it under you attempts at gentle touching. It crinkled slightly under your touch, and you giggled, delighted by the sound.

Curufin couldn’t help but smile, his stern features softening even more as he watched you. “Yes, it makes a noise,” he said, his tone gentle. “When the wind blows, the leaves dance and sing. Can you hear them?”

Your head tilted to the side, your little ears straining to catch the sounds. Then, a slight breeze rustled the branches above, and the leaves responded with a soft whispering. You couldn’t resist looking up at your father with bright eyes filled with excitement before letting out a happy squeal, clapping your hands together.

Curufin chuckled a deep, warm sound that made your heart leap with joy. He sat down on the grass beside you, his presence both reassuring and grounding. “You’re learning so much,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “The world is vast, and there is so much to discover, my little star.”

You looked up at him as if understanding his words, and crawled closer, your tiny fingers reaching out to grasp his larger hand. He allowed you to hold onto him, your touch so small and innocent that it left a deep swell of love in his chest. At that moment, he realised it was a different kind of crafting—a more delicate, precious work than any he had ever undertaken. Moulding, guiding, and teaching you required patience and gentleness, qualities that did not always come easily to him. But for you, he would try.

“Shall we go for a walk?” he asked softly, standing up and extending his hand to you. You looked up at him, your eyes wide with excitement, and wobbled to your chubby feet with his help. Your steps were unsteady, your balance still developing, but you were determined, your little face scrunched up in concentration.

Curufin kept a careful hold on your hand, walking slowly beside you as you toddled forward. The ground was uneven, with small rocks and twigs scattered about, but he guided you with gentle words and a steady hand, ready to catch you should you stumble. You chattered happily as you walked, your voice a constant stream of babbles and giggles that filled the air with a joyful noise.

As you walked, Curufin pointed out various things in the environment around you—a colourful flower here, a scurrying insect there—naming them in soft tones that made you listen attentively, even if you didn’t fully understand. “This is a daisy,” he said, showing you a small white flower. You bent down, your balance wavering, and he quickly steadied you with his hand. “It’s soft and pretty, just like you.”

As you reached out to touch the flower, your tiny fingers brushing against the petals, you realised they were cool and soft, leading you to giggle and look up at your father with shining eyes. Curufin’s heart melted at the sight, urging him to reach down to pick the daisy and tuck it gently behind your ear. “There, now you look even more beautiful,” he said, his voice filled with warmth.

You babbled in response, your words unintelligible but filled with enthusiasm as you gave him a toothy grin. Curufin laughed softly, the sound deep and full of love. “I’ll take that as a ’thank you,’” he said, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

The two of you continued your walk, your little feet carrying you with more confidence now. Every so often, you would stop to examine something new—a stick, a pebble, a patch of moss—and Curufin would crouch down beside you, his presence a steady anchor in your little world. He spoke to you in calm, soothing tones, explaining the things you saw with patience and care. Even though you couldn’t fully understand him yet, you listened intently, your big eyes wide with wonder.

After a while as you began to tire, your steps growing slower and your babbles quieter, your father noticed immediately. His keen eyes observed the way your little shoulders slumped and your head began to droop. In an instant, he scooped you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest, and you snuggled into him with a contented sigh.

“It’s time to rest,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’ve had a busy morning, little Miss Busybody.” You yawned, your tiny mouth opening wide, and your eyes fluttered closed as you relaxed against him, your small body warm and trusting in his arms.

He retreated to the house with steps slow and measured, careful not to jostle you as you drifted off to sleep. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground, and the birds’ songs softened to a lullaby as they sensed the peaceful atmosphere. As he walked, Curufin couldn’t help but reflect on the gentle steps he was taking—not just in guiding you through the physical world, but in nurturing the bond between father and daughter. His upbringing had been one of great expectations and intense pressures, but with you, he was determined to foster a different kind of relationship—one built on patience, understanding, and love.

He had been raised in a house of pride and ambition, had been taught to be strong, to never show weakness. But now as he looked at you, he knew that he would do anything for you, he would protect you with his life, he would teach you everything he knew. He would always strive to be the best father he could be for you.

By the time he reached the house, you were fast asleep, your little face peaceful and serene. Curufin carefully laid you down in your crib, tucking a soft blanket around you and brushing a gentle hand over your hair. You murmured something in your sleep, a soft, contented sound, and he smiled, his heart swelling with love.

He stood there for a moment, watching you sleep, before quietly leaving the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The house was quiet now, the only sound the gentle swinging of a pendulum in the hallway. Curufin made his way to the sitting room, where he found your mother resting on a comfortable chair, a book in her hands.

“She’s asleep,” he said softly, and your mother looked up, a smile spreading across her face.

“Thank you,” she replied, her voice warm with affection. “You’re so good with her, you know.”

Curufin sat down beside her, taking her hand in his. “I’m learning,” he said with a smile. “However, she’s a busybody, so she keeps me on my toes.”

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[drgrlfriend]

@brilcrist created this lovely art depicting a scene from my fic! My Heart Will Be Your Home by dr_girlfriend

Excerpt:

That is … definitely a guy fighting with a bow and arrow.  He’s tall and blond — could probably pass for Steve at a distance, but maybe even a touch taller and built a bit leaner — wearing jeans and a t-shirt, a fancy-looking recurve bow in his hand and a quiver strapped slantways across his back.  He’s got his back to a giant maple tree, and is firing arrows in a blur of motion while ducking lasers from the bots.  These ones look a little like the Daleks from that show Tony and Bruce love — vaguely conical and stumpy, with what seems to be a single laser on each.  

“Why ain’t he gettin’ up in that tree?” Bucky wonders aloud, revving through the preserve.  “It’s a better tactical position.”  He’s starting to see scattered bots now, and he slaloms a course through them, swinging his metal arm and sending them flying as he zooms by.

“Not everyone has sniper training,” Sam suggests.  “He’s probably just some archery hobbyist, or something.  Probably doesn’t know the first damn thing about fighting.”

A bot has gotten close up on the guy’s flank, and he seems to realize just in time.  He somersaults sideways, coming up with an arrow in his hand and jamming it directly into the bot’s side just as a shot from Redwing finishes it off.  

“I don’t know about that,” Steve says dryly.  “Seems to be doing pretty good to me.  Either way, we’re almost on him; Bucky, I’ll take the right side, you take the left.”

“Copy.”  There’s a line of bots advancing on the guy and Bucky pulls up with a sharp twist, planting his left foot and letting the rear of the bike skid sideways so that the back wheel takes out the bots like a row of dominoes.

Out of the corner of his eye Bucky sees Steve hurtle over the handlebars of his own motorcycle and yeet the whole damn thing at a cluster of bots.  No finesse, that guy.

Bucky jumps off his bike, swinging at the bots closest to him.  He’s just about dealt with that cluster and is only a few paces away from the archer when the guy’s eyes widen.  He lunges toward Bucky, pushing him aside just as one of the bots on the ground fires.

The man yelps and staggers, pressing a hand to his side.

“What kind of idiot are you?” Bucky growls, pulling the man back and putting his own body between him and the bot.  “Let me take the hits!” 

A furrow appears between the man’s brows, his mouth gaping for a moment, and then he seems to shake it off, nocking another arrow and loosing it.  It skims so close to Bucky’s face that it stirs his hair, and Bucky whirls to see another bot was sneaking up on him.

“Jesus, these things are everywhere,” Bucky complains, drawing his Glock and firing, taking out the laser of the one on the ground.  

“There’s a weak spot in the armor plating on the left side,” the man yells.  

Time seems to stop for a moment, Bucky’s heart stuttering and then kicking into overdrive.  The air around him suddenly seems crystal clear — Bucky can see every individual leaf on every tree, can hear the sighing of the wind and the rustle of the leaves, the whirring of the bots and the heartbeat and panting breaths of the guy as he ducks another laser.

“Bucky, did he —” Steve starts over the comm.

“Not now, Stevie,” Bucky manages.  He shakes off his shock and forcibly shoves the revelation to the back of his mind in order to focus on the task at hand.  Time seems to lurch back into a normal speed and Bucky concentrates on blocking the man from the line of fire of the largest cluster of approaching bots.

“I’ll make an opening, you run for it,” he shouts.

“I’m not leaving,” the man shouts back.  Jesus christ, another vigilante-wannabe.  They’re coming out of the woodwork these days.  Was this guy even in the park when all this started, or did he come looking for a fight?

“Watch your back,” Bucky instructs with a mental shrug, and then there’s no more time for words, the two of them fighting fiercely against the oncoming wave of bots.  

[kindasleepywriter]

Bird of Prey - Chapter 13: Crash Landing

Bird of Prey masterlist. Azriel x Fem!Reader.

Chapter summary: On the run from the Night court, injured and alone, you wonder if there's a point to all this suffering.

Story rating: Mature - Minors DNI

Warnings: Graphic injury, implications of previous possible dubcon, suicidal ideation. (Also this is unedited but ill do that asap)

Word count: 0.7k

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In the middle of winter, the winds of the Night court felt more like knives than they did a soft caress. Perhaps straining your left wing almost immediately after ascending over the large expanse of trees had had a role to play in your torture, but you couldn’t think of anything other than the pain as you struggled over the border towards Day, barely managing to glide over the divide between the two courts.

Unsteady flight patterns had you tumbling down through the treetops barely a few hundred feet past that point. The loud cracks of the snapping branches and the rustling of the pine trees engulfed you, so loud that you couldn’t hear your own exclamations of pain going down.

Curled around yourself on the forest’s icy floor, surrounded by the debris you’d taken down with you in your fall and the feathers you’d ripped out in the process, is where you finally yell apart. You laid there for hours, quietly sobbing as you tried to convince yourself to get up, get up, but you couldn’t, not until light began to sweep over your position.

Everything came crashing down on you in waves, the reality of the situation, and you couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Why couldn’t any of it make sense?

Azriel. He’d hated you at first, that you were sure of. He had no reason to trust you or help you, and you had only given him reasons to dislike you even more. You hadn’t been kind, but neither had he, not until... until after the study, when he had seen you burn the doorknob. Not until after Feyre saw through your memories.

Not until you became a tool, one they might be able to wield… if they gained your trust.

Gods, it hurt to think that all of what happened between you and Azriel might’ve just been an act, but the pieces all fit together like building blocks, one by one. It explained why he had suddenly found it in him to care for you, how he used your own weaknesses against you.

Fury and heartbreak tore through you, and that’s when you had started screaming in pure anguish through your sobs. You hadn’t admitted it, not out loud, but he must’ve known, known that you loved him. How easily you had fallen too, how little he had to show before you betrayed your instincts for him, your centuries of knowledge. As easily as a leaf falls in autumn at the slightest breeze, you thought bitterly.

But why would Azriel go after you, even when Rhysand held him back? Were they still hoping you would change your mind, that you would come running back? Your head kept spinning in circles until you didn’t have any more tears left to cry, until your throat felt as tight as a vice.

By that time, in the early morning sun, only numbness was left in you. There was no more fire left to burn, no more hatred towards those who used you, you’d spent it all. The only embers left had turned against you. Once more, you had been played for a fool.

You’d picked yourself up at the first sign of light despite your injuries, wings lacerated deeply and at least a few ribs broken, and dragged yourself into the first cave you found, uncaring of any danger that may be lurking in within. Maybe that would be a more comforting ending, you thought. Putting yourself at the mercy of nature, your only true friend, was a poetic way to go. No more betrayal, no more cruelty, only the Mother’s sweet embrace.

You shuffled to the farthest wall you could reach and curled down on the cold floor once more, your wings oozing blood at an unsteady rate. Unconsciousness settled over you comfortably, a blanket of death draping over you in a final moment of peace. You hoped it was over.

Today is a day of suffering, it would seem.

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[thezombieprostitute]

A Change is Coming

💐Send a whole bouquet!💐Write a surprise drabble or create a moodboard for them. 

This is an idea I had floating around and I don’t know if I’ll ever get to use it on a full fic so I will dress it up in daisies for you, dearest Zombie. Hoping it isn't too dark or bloody.

Warnings: Injury and Blood.

You never thought you’d be a runner. How often did you see those people in their short shorts and loose tanks, toned legs and sweaty foreheads, bouncing with their earbuds in, arms pumping, knees lifting. You could never be one of them... 

Well, now you are. It’s a change. A big change. One long-needed. One made out of fear and panic. 

You have to get healthier. You have to try. You’re starting to feel your age, really, you feel beyond it.  

You tried other things. Yoga was too slow and breathy. Weight-training a bit too heavy and too much. And the gym in general sent you running with sore muscles and no less self-esteem issues. 

Running. Rather, jogging. You’re starting off easy. A slow pace through the trail. You don’t need to worry about the gym bros and their judgment or the girls in their tight leggings filming for Tiktok. It’s just you and nature and oof, your knees! 

Two weeks now. That’s an achievement. Sort of. Two weeks but you gotta keep it up. No time to start patting yourself on the back until you see results. 

Your breath is harried and burning. Your fitbit buzzes at you, slow down. You ease up as you come up and incline. Your thighs are on fire. You wait until you reach another dip before you speed up again. Your heart pumps hotly and you feel that odd calm that comes at your peak. You feel almost good. You feel-- 

Something catches your ankle. Something you couldn’t see as you kept your eyes six feet ahead. At first, the pain doesn’t occur to you, not as you’re sent stumbling forward, crashing, arms flailing as you land on the leaf-strewn trail.  

You lay on your stomach, panting. You groan and roll over, sitting up as you spot the obstruction that tripped you up. A wire tied across the path. It can’t be a coincidence. It’s a trap. 

You look down at your ankle, the one that met the wire. You nearly scream as you see the gash and how your foot hangs to one side. Then you feel it. Your adrenaline courses but cannot numb the agony that creeps up from your injured leg. You hardly feel the scrapes all over your arms and knees as you stare at the torn flesh. 

You babble dumbly. What do you do? How do you get out of here? You’re too afraid to move. Oh god. What’s happened to you? Why you? 

Your hands shake as you hold them before you in shock. You hear a rustle of leaves and the wire slackens. You blink and stair as a man walks across the path, winding it up around his hand. He turns to face you as he unhooks it from the other side. 

He tuts as he comes closer, looming over you. He wears a hoodie and a beanie, a dark stubbly beard across his jaw and cheeks, his blue eyes the only bright thing about him. He tilts his head and squat before you as he examines your ankle with a suck of his teeth. 

“Yikes, that really did a number on you,” he comments, “won’t be walking this one off.” 

You whimper, terrified. He’s unfazed by the sight of your blood. In fact, he’s not bothered at all by the scene before him. By the way he holds the wire, you know he set it up. 

He looks you in the face and tilts his head, “you’re not the one I wanted...” he pulls the knapsack off his shoulder and tucks away the wire inside, “but you’ll do.” 

He swings the bag over his back and moves over you. You cower as he bends to hook his arms under yours. He braces you, the smell of the forest clinging to him. 

“Now, you wanna keep your weight off the right foot, so work with me,” he girds, “you’ll be better off if you do everything I say.” 

You shudder and suck in air as he makes you stand. Your toe hits the ground and jars your ankle. You yelp and cling to him out of instinct. 

“Keep that foot up, sweetheart,” he warns as he turns to stretch his arm across your back, “we got a long way to go.” 

Thanks so much for this, Roo! I really appreciate it!

Is it bad that my first thought is "he's selling me to Kemp!" 😅

Kemp has to back out of the chase for a while, too familiar to too many people. So he hires a few people to do his hunting for him. He doesn't care how they get the girls so long as the girls are alive and pretty.

So Curtis relies on his trapper skills. He finds his prey, gets her usual routine figured out, and sets his trap. But he catches you instead. Pretty enough, Curtis thinks. Can still get my payday.

The trek back to his truck is, of course, slow and painful. You vomit at least once from the pain. Sitting in the truck doesn't help much, either. At least he's got some medical supplies there and starts treating the ankle though you throw up again from the pain.

By the time you get to your destination much of the shock has worn off and the tears are flowing. He helps you limp inside. You know you should scream, try to fight, something, anything but with how casually he treats your pain you get the impression he could make it so much worse without care.

When you're sitting down again, your captor calls out for someone named Kemp. Kemp walks in, sees you and says, "I said 'pretty' girls, Curtis. I'm not buying this one."

"She's pretty enough for your clients. You can always sell her parts with someone else's photo."

"I have a reputation to keep amongst my clients. One hint that they're not getting what they ordered I could be ruined."

"Fine, just pay me half but you're keeping her."

Kemp considers you. "She does seem rather docile. Maybe I could find another use for her besides meat."

Should the story continue? 😆

[joshsindigostreak]

Running Through the Garden

Prologue

“Periwinkle: Early and sincere friendships, tender recollections.” - Language of Flowers

Werewolf!Danny Wagner x Werewolf!OC

Danny Wagner knew, no matter what path he walked in life it would always lead back to what he was born to do: lead his Pack for not only his generation, but his future children’s generation as well. He didn’t talk about it, but it was in the back of his mind at all times. A ticking clock to his destiny. He thought going to college with his best friend Sam would take his mind off of it, but all it took was a Full Moon, round golden eyes, and a flash of auburn fur to remind him that he can’t keep running from it forever. But would she be willing to run with him?

Authors Note: Hello! This is the prologue to Danny’s story, and the final piece to the ISHIYE universe puzzle. I hope y’all enjoy going on Danny’s journey with me! ❤️

*Set in the ISHIYE universe but can be read independently. It’ll run the closest to O, Pioneers but it’ll be different enough to where you can still read it by itself if you prefer. There will be cross references from the other fics but I promise it won’t be confusing.

Word Count: 3,057

Warnings: Descriptions of bodily transformations, slight body horror if you squint, language, descriptions of blood and anima death.

His best friend's hand was resting over the center console, ready to take everything that rested in Danny’s pockets and keep them safe for the night. He gently placed his wallet, cellphone, and half of a granola bar in Sam’s hand. 

Sam gave pause at the granola, but packed it all silently in the small bag he always kept everything in. Out of pure muscle memory, he reached into the bag and fished out a small velvet drawstring pouch. He pulled it open and offered it to Danny, letting him put any and all jewelry he had on at the moment inside; another possession that Sam would guard all night. 

“It’s getting darker earlier, I don’t want you cutting it close again,” Danny said softly from the passenger seat. 

Sam gave his best friend a look, and the side of his mouth slid up into a smile, “Daniel, I probably know the sunset times better than you do. I’ve got plenty of time to get back to the house.” 

“I know but traffic can be a bitch sometimes and I don’t want to worry about whether you’re indoors when it’s all…happening.” 

Every month, the same nerves creeped up on the young Wolf, and he wondered if they were just a permanent feature to his biology. The build up to sundown was arguably the worst part for him now, even if the physical part never got any easier. It was the same kind of anxiety one would get in middle school; not knowing if they were going to be chosen to read aloud next. Even with the windows up, he could hear every leaf rustle in the early fall wind. Out of the corner of his eye, he looked at the familiar trailhead that he always took. Well, to him it was a trailhead. To anyone beside him and Sam, it was just a narrow gap between a few trees on the side of the road. One probably wouldn’t even notice it if they weren’t looking for it. But the two friends always recognized the young Maple lazily leaning across the gap to its larger, and older sibling. 

Sam dramatically extended his arm to expose his watch on his wrist, “it's 6:57 PM, and sunset is scheduled for 7;46 PM, on the dot.” 

Danny always admired Sam’s confidence. He had the type of confidence that often blurred with arrogance, depending on who you asked.  When it came to Danny’s schedule, he took it more seriously than his own independent studies, which was saying something. He had spreadsheet after spreadsheet about weather patterns and sunrise/sunset times. Danny didn’t even have to look to know that there was an already worn out farmers almanac in the glovebox. Every year Sam would read the new one cover to cover, highlighting everything he found useful, his messy scrawl filling the margins with observations and reminders, all while tabbed with color coded sticky notes for quick reference. 

They rarely verbalized the sentence, ‘I love you,’ but this was one of the many ways Sam showed it. One could always know if Sam cared about them if he revealed he read up on anything you were interested in, or in Danny’s case, his species. The one convenient thing about Sam coming from a family of bloodline hunters was that he had plenty of literature at his disposal on whatever non-human species that caught his eye. The drawback was that most of the books in his house were written by other hunters, and thus were a little biased against other creatures. Sam had to unlearn a lot in the past few years, but he did so without question; because it was for Danny. 

“That's still cutting it close,” Danny warned. 

Sam smiled, wanting to lighten the mood for his friend, and held up three fingers like a boy scout, “I promise I will get back to the Manor as quickly as I can and get all the doors bolted shut from the inside and the curtains drawn, just in case. I’ll even break a few traffic laws, just for you.” 

Danny stared at him, trying not to smile, but Sam was infectious, and the corners of his mouth tilted up anyway. Before he could reply, his skin was starting to itch. He still had plenty of time to get into the woods, but those first few physical symptoms were like a ticking clock, and the anxiety crept back in. If he was starting to feel the pull of the Moon, the other Wolves in the area were too, and he wanted Sam home and in the Kiszka Fortress until sunrise. 

He glanced out the window again, before turning back to Sam, “I need to get going.” 

Sam’s expression sobered a little and he nodded, “I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Bright and early as usual,” the Wolf replied as he opened the car door and started to get out, 

Just as he was about to shut the door, Sam called out, “don’t eat too much deer tonight. It always fucks up your stomach the next day and you regret it.” 

It was a futile request, as Danny didn’t have much control once the Wolf took over, but he appreciated the sentiment anyway, “I’ll keep that in mind, Sam.” With that he shut the door, and backed up a few feet so Sam could drive off. 

The young scholar gave his best friend one of his classic closed mouth smiles, the slightest bit of worry crept into his large Sanpaku eyes, but he kept his promise and pulled his car away from the side of the road and sped off. 

Once Sam’s car was out of sight, Danny sighed and turned towards the woods. He began the slow walk into the trees. With each step, his skin got itchier and itcher, letting him know his body was preparing for its monthly ritual. The daylight was disappearing with each passing minute, and while there was still time, he started walking faster to get to his usual clearing.

After ducking under some low branches, and taking a few turns, said clearing came into view. It wasn’t massive, or much of anything, but it was a big enough space where he could strip down and get ready for what he was born to do. 

As he stripped, the nocturnal animals started to stir, ready for their own nights to begin. The birds were quieting down, but the insects were singing their songs as it was their stage now. A few stray fireflies started to twinkle around the edge of the clearing, as if they were waiting for him too. 

He folded his clothes as neatly as he could and walked them over to a small rock pile by a Red Oak. It was set up in such a way that he could safely hide his clothes until the next morning, and not worry about animals getting into them. Wolves are always taught to not shift while wearing anything. His mother always reminded him of how much of a waste of clothing it was, and that she wasn’t going to be buying him new jeans every month because he got lazy. 

Once everything was secured and hid away, he walked back to the center of the clearing. His gums were starting to feel weird, and his teeth felt wobbly. Not too much longer now. He looked up through the trees, seeing a tiny bit of fading orange sky. The hue turned into a grayish purple as he stared. The sun was bidding his farewell, holding the door open for the moon. 

The young Wolf took a few deep breaths through his nose, and tilted his head from side to side to crack his neck a couple times. He flexed his hands at his sides, knowing that he only had a few more minutes of being Danny, the humanoid lycanthrope, before surrendering to the Wolf within. They called themselves Wolves because they indeed fully transformed into the canines, It wasn’t like the movies where they would look like some weird hybrid. No once the night took over they looked just like any other wolf in the forest. Blending in with the wildlife was one of the main reasons their species remained safe from endangerment, but also kept humans ignorant to their existence. To humans Werewolves were urban legends and folklore, and they were determined to keep it that way. 

Finally, the sky was dark and the only light was provided from the precious Moon. She wasn’t directly above him just yet, but her presence was just as strong. Danny closed his eyes for a second, silently thanking her for all the blessings She bestows on his kind. Wolves weren’t religious in the way humans were, but there was a supernatural connection to nature and the Moon that was very real, and an intrinsic part of their lives. Some packs paid their respects more than others, and he happened to be born into one that never went a Full Moon without giving Her proper acknowledgement. 

He couldn’t see it obviously, but he knew as he opened his eyes that streaks of gold were invading his hazel irises. Instinctively he knelt down to the soft earth, crunching a few leaves beneath his knees. His body felt like it was vibrating now, and with a final sigh he surrendered to himself. It was time. 

The first snap of bone always knocked the breath out of him. 

It was his left wrist. 

It always started with the wrists.

His skeleton began to warp and ripple under his skin, and he fell forward to rest on his crooked arms. The pain was familiar like an old toxic friend. He begrudgingly welcomed it as he tried his best to relax. Stiffening up made it hurt even worse. 

The last thing Danny saw before the Wolf took over was his hands shrinking down and sprouting black fur. 

After a few tense moments, the sound of a Wolf’s howl joined in with the insects. 

It was time to Run.  

~!~

Two crows were cawing in the tree above him, and their calls roused him from sleep.  Every muscle in his body felt like jello, and he had at least a dozen different aches in his body. The grass beneath him was soft and dewy, and the chilly air provided a little comfort to his sore muscles. He kept his eyes closed for a little while longer, wanting a few extra minutes before he had to get up and make his way back to the side of the road. 

But after a few moments, Danny rolled over on his back, flexing his wrists and stretching his arms. His eyes fluttered open, and the sky was just shades of pink and purple, letting him know that it was a little after daybreak, and that he had time to get back to his clothes. He slowly sat up and looked around, recognizing the field he was in. This was a common place for him to wake up, and he always figured the Wolf liked laying down on the soft grass before ending the night. After one last look around to make sure he was alone, Danny stood up and turned back to the woods.

The walk back to the clearing didn’t take long, and when Danny arrived at his little safe spot he was already fantasizing about the shower he was going to take as soon as he got home. He quickly fetched his clothes and shook everything out to make sure no dirt or bugs were still clinging to the various fabrics. The feeling of normalcy crept up as he finished tying his shoes. With one last look at the clearing he turned towards the trail he knew like the back of his hand and started to make his way towards the edge of the woods near the road. 

By the time he stepped out of the trees the sun had fully risen, and the soft morning light gently touched on his freckled face. The first thing the Wolf spotted was his best friend's car, parked in the same exact spot it had been parked the previous night. Sam was sitting in the driver’s seat, his long hair pulled up into a messy bun, sipping what Danny knew to be medium roasted coffee from a thermos and a book propped up against the steering wheel. 

As he nearly jogged over to the car, Sam spotted him out of the corner of his eye and turned, giving him a warm smile as he yanked the door open and plopped into the seat a little harder than intended. There was a comfortable silence in that car, as neither one of them were morning people and didn’t need to fill the seconds with mindless chatter. No, the two friends could sit next to each other without speaking a word and be happy. 

Sam reached down to the cup holder and pulled up another thermos, another batch of coffee he made just for Danny. After having the same routine for over a decade, he knew exactly what Danny wanted the mornings after a Full Moon. He liked a lot of sugar in his coffee to get most of the taste of the wild out of his mouth, with a splash of cream for texture. As he handed it over to his best friend, his large sleepy eyes focused on Danny’s face. 

Danny took the thermos quickly, immediately unscrewing the lid and taking a large gulp, not caring if it was too hot or not. He felt Sam’s eyes on him as he turned to his left. One thing about Sam’s eyes is that they never stopped analyzing anything. Even if he never shared what he was thinking about,  you knew he was lost in thought, picking apart whatever was on his mind. 

“...what?” Danny questioned. 

“You have…umm..some…,” he brought a finger up to his mouth and pointed to the side, indicating Danny had something on his face. 

Danny pulled down the sun visor and looked in the mirror, only to find he had a large stain of blood from the side of his mouth, down his jaw and onto his neck.

“Oh god,” he sighed in annoyance. 

Before the Wolf could do anything about it, Sam was already reaching into the center console for the small pack of wet wipes he stored in there, just for situations like this. Danny gladly took it from him and instantly went to scrub the blood off his face. 

“I hope it was only one deer last night and not your usual three,” Sam chided while taking another sip of his coffee. 

Danny rolled his eyes slightly as he yanked a second wipe to clean up his neck, “yeah whatever.” 

“I’m just saying don’t come complaining to me when you’re stuck in the bathroom all afternoon…”

 

Whatever else Sam was rambling about, Danny didn’t hear it. Instead the memories of the night before started flashing through his mind’s eye. 

The Wolf was sprinting through the trees, sniffing out the scent of a male deer that ran away from him.  Dodging rocks and jumping over logs to not lose the scent trail. 

The Wolf eventually caught his prey and sank his teeth into the deer’s neck. Danny didn’t particularly like remembering what it felt like to eat raw animals but it was just part of who he was. 

He remembered trotting through the trees afterwards, stopping to sniff the night air and lick his chops. As the Wolf tried to find another scent to chase, he caught a slight sweet smell on the breeze. A familiar and addicting sweet smell. The Wolf instantly turned in the direction it came from, and took off into the fog. The scent wasn’t following any pattern, and the source of it was clearly darting around randomly in the woods. 

Finally, the scent became strong enough that it almost overwhelmed the Wolf, and he ducked beneath a branch to come out to a small pond. The Full Moon shone overhead, Her reflection clear and bright on the water's surface. He looked around, sniffing even harder when his large golden eyes landed on...her. 

A large Red Wolf was about thirty feet to his right, standing at the pond's edge, staring at him with her own equally large green eyes. His paw lifted up to take a step, but before it could land in the grass the She-Wolf took off and rounded the pond, stopping for a moment on the other side, directly across the water from the young Wolf. She looked so familiar to him, her rusty red fur was beautiful in the light, rippling in the wind, and sharply contrasting to the dark woods behind her. 

They stared at each other for who knows how long, her gaze nearly defiant, before a distant howl from another wolf sounded, and before the Wolf could react, the She-Wolf darted into the trees, her fluffy tail the last he saw before she was swallowed by darkness. 

The wolf followed her path around the pond, and stopped where she had stood. He tried to follow the scent again, but the way it snaked around the trees and went in nonsensical patterns made it clear she didn’t want him to know where she went. 

Danny got the last bit of blood off his neck as he slowly sat back in his seat. Sam was still trying to fill him in on some journal he had finally gotten his hands on. As much as he loved listening to his best friend telling him anything and everything about his interests, Danny was too caught up in his thoughts to care at the moment. 

Red fur on a Wolf was rare, and he had only seen it in person on a handful of Wolves in his life. Those green eyes as well, that looked right through him, unintimidated by the presence of a future Alpha. The last time he had seen such a combination was in his last year of college. When he was still seeing-

Ivy Phillips

The first girl he ever gave his heart to, and the same girl who broke it.

Tag List:  @roving-blade , @readyforthegarden , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema , @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne, @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface , @sadiechar , @char289 , @stardustvanfleet , @sunfl0wer-power , @holdingup-fallingsky , @bladenotblaze , @gretavanlace , @lipstickitty ,

[breannasfluff]

Eldritch Fight

“Do you hear that?” Wild freezes, ears flicking as he tries to pinpoint what changed.

The rest of the group stops as well. They are still a fair distance from the monster reports they got. Yet there are more dangers on the road than just monsters.

Twilight joins him, ears tilting to listen for what he notices. There’s silence in the woods. “I don’t hear anything,” he finally whispers.

Wild doesn’t either. Despite this, there’s something that’s put him on guard. A shift in the air; the rustle of a leaf that shouldn’t move. An eddy in the air from something too large not to mean harm.

There’s nothing. The path winds through the woods, hugged tight by bushes in most places. There’s little chance of something crashing through without them noticing.

Warriors waits another minute, then waves them on. Wild stays on the alert as he filters out the noises of the Chain. Yet they continue unimpeded.

The path winds and twists as the woods change. The bushes fall away, replaced by scraggly trees in small clumps. They grow at an angle, likely due to the wind that now whistles through the area. It’s steady from the same direction, setting the branches swaying.

Shhh, shhh, says the wind, as if the forest is a fretful child to soothe. At first, the Chain tensed as the scenery changed, still on edge. But there’s only the never-ending wind. After a while, it fades into steady background noise.

It’s Sky who notices a bare second before Wild. He grunts, face twisting. The champion is turning to look at him when he feels it, too. Something rancid, yet burning bright. Just the faintest brush at the edge of his senses. Destruction and fire and pain. Villages slaughtered to see the color they bleed. Rot, taking away healthy limbs.

Dark Deity.

Read the rest here!

[selineram3421]

Ha... Summer is coming. And with it the change of temperature.

Isekai'd

Part 1: Saved By the Undertaker

Prologue

~

Vash (Tristamp) X Reader

Warning! ⚠

⚠ cussing, slight heat coma?[just passing out] ⚠

You don't know how long you've been walking.

The heat was distorting time and you were uncomfortable, sweat being produced by your body and some running down your forehead.

I can't believe I've been Isekai'd.

Not only that, you didn't know when in the series you landed.

Its only logical that I landed around the first episodes. You thought. But I can't be too sure.. What if I'm in Trigun 98? Geez its hot.

The clothes you were wearing weren't helping. They clung to your skin and trapped the heat in, and your shoes were filled with sand.

The only thing on your mind was to find a town quick, or hope for some help to pass by.

I have to be careful though, there's a lot of creeps and assholes.

At some point you stumbled upon a large rock. You didn't think much of it but then realized that it would have shade to help you cool off.

Oh thank whatever being placed this here.

Rushing over, you slid into the shade on your knees and leaned back, letting your back rest against the rock.

"I swear, if I kept walking any longer I would have gotten a bad sunburn.", you sighed.

Now that you've stopped walking, the feeling of being tired set in your bones. It didn't help that you stayed up all night watching anime.

I can't go to sleep though. You thought, feeling your eyelids droop. I have to..

The heat was making you sleepy.

It was a problem you had even on Earth, your body just shut down whenever it got too hot.

I can't..

That was the last thing you thought before passing out.

✴

A tree.

You saw a tree after opening your eyes. Then the feeling of grass brushing against your fingers.

The wind was blowing softly and made the leafs rustle, light shimmering through the spaces between. Making it look like sparkling gold.

This is nice. You thought, feeling calm.

A song was playing but you didn't notice until the wind stopped.

Someone was humming.

Turning your head, you see a woman with black hair near a meadow of red flowers. And then you remembered.

"Rem?", you spoke out loud.

She turned to face you with a smile.

Then all of it faded away.

✴

You woke up in a daze.

Ribs hurting, meaning you slept for way too long.

After sitting up, you notice that you're not in the desert anymore. Instead you find yourself in a room that smells a lot like a hospital or clinic.

How did I-? You think before a sudden dizzy spell takes over and you lean to the side, falling off the bed with a loud thud.

"Ow."

You hear the door opening and at least two sets of footsteps rushing into the room.

"You shouldn't be moving around yet.", an older man says and helps you sit up.

He looks like the boiler man from Spirited Away, just a little bit. But his moustache is white and he's wearing glasses instead of the little shades. Obviously, no extra set of arms.

"Young man.", he looks over at the other person that followed him in. "Could you help them back onto the bed?"

Following the old man's gaze, you see a tall man with black hair, black shades, and wearing a suit. Smoking a cigarette-

"And please put that out, there is no smoking allowed in the clinic.", the old man says.

Woolfwood!? You think in shock.

"Sure.", he says with a sigh, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and putting it out.

Seriously, when the fuck am I in the series!?

Now back on the bed, the old man does a quick check up on you.

"You're lucky. If this man hadn't found you, you would have ended up as worm food.", he says and hands you a glass of water.

"Thanks.", you say and gulp down the water.

I honestly would have accepted my fate. You thought.

"Um, where am I exactly?", you ask.

"You're in the city of Lowland", the doctor says.

You hum and try to remember the map that was brought up in the episodes.

If I remember correctly, Jeneora Rock is to the West of here. You thank the old man before getting too deep in your thoughts. I'll have to draw up the map soon.

"I've got a question.", Nicholas pipes in, making you look over at him. "Where are you from? You don't look like you're properly..uh"

Oh shit oh shit oh shit-!

You hope the panic doesn't show on your face as you try and think up some sort of excuse.

"I-I don't remember.", you stutter out and look down with confusion written on your face.

I'm going to have to play the amnesia card! Its the only way for right now!

"I just remember walking through the desert and resting in the shade.", you say and try to sell the act by looking frustrated. "I can't remember.."

"It sounds like a case of amnesia.", the doctor says.

I'm playing a card that most fanfics use! I'm sorry but I couldn't think of anything else!

"Sounds like shitty situation.", Nicholas syas.

You have no idea. You think, crying internally.

"I'm off then.", the man in the suit says and starts making his way to the door. "You're not dead and I have no reason to be around anymore."

Before he could walk out the door, your brain rushed out some words.

"At least tell me your name!"

The undertaker glances over his shoulder to look at you. "Nicholas.", he says and puts an unlit cigarette between his lips. "Nicholas D. Wolfwood."

Then he walks out.

Very in character. You think and sigh, letting your head hang down. How am I going to survive on this hellish planet?

Looking down at your hands, you notice something that somehow passed over your head.

I'm in Trigun Stampede and-

"I'M FUCKING ANIMATED!?"

Lol, he thought you were dead.

~Seline, the person.

Next: Part 2

Taglist@ ?

ML Vash | ChL Isekai'd

[g00-b0y]

Alrighty so I've never posted a fic on here but I'm going to give it a go! This one's going to be a one shot maybe? I started a second chapter but I think it works well as a stand alone. It's TicciJack so if you do not like ships just scroll past.

They are my ADHD x Autism fav your honor

Jack walked through the woods slowly, his feet dragging through the fallen leaves. None of his usual carefulness was present as he stomped home. The sound of leaves crunching under him annoyed him immensely, but he didn’t have the energy to avoid them. He glared down at the leaf covered earth, as if it was the fault of the leaves for his bad mood.

Today had been particularly stressful, he hadn't been able to complete his task for the day and he'd have to double up on work tomorrow. His mood worsened with every step, every noise making anger boil up inside of him. He groaned and stopped walking, pulling his hair back into a thick ponytail to keep it out of his face.

He stood for a few seconds, closing his eyes and letting the cool fall breeze flow over him. His chest rose slowly as he took deep breaths, calming himself. He just needs to calm down before he gets home.

Jack plopped down onto the ground, hearing the crunch of leaves under him. Everything was too much today. He just wanted to be home, taking a shower in silence while all his worries washed off. But, Toby was there. Jack loved Toby with all his heart, but he knew he’d be all over him when he got home. Pretty much every other day, that was fine, but today he wasn’t prepared for all the stimulation.

No, it wasn’t Toby’s fault he had a bad day and he wasn’t going to take it out on him. He tried to relax, listening to the wind around him and the small noises of birds chirping and leaves rustling in the trees. This is nice, Jack loves nature and being outdoors, there’s no need to be angry at the birds and leaves for just existing.

After a few minutes of sitting, he pushed himself up and stood. Some of his annoyance had subsided, and he just really wanted to be home.

He continued the trek home, his mind drifting and wandering off to the mistakes he had made today. After a while, he and Toby's cabin came into view, the small worn down house blending into the trees around it, nearly invisible if you weren't looking for it.

It was dark brown, it had been made out of the trees around it to blend in better. Vines and moss had started to grow along the sides, as well as some poison ivy Jack kept forgetting to take care of. There were a few flowers planted sporadically around the house, not in any particular pattern. Those were Toby's, he had a special interest in gardening and had even started growing fruits and vegetables in the backyard. Jack couldn't eat any of the food he grew but he thought it was a cute hobby. Jack walked up and slowly opened the front door, looking around the living room for Toby. The house was oddly quiet for Toby being home. He was probably out in his back garden.

“Toby? You home?” Jack called into the house, hanging his bag and mask on the coat rack. He was greeted by an echo of his own voice calling back to him. Toby must be in the backyard, Jack concluded. He brushed the dirt off his pants and walked to the backdoor. The floor creaked beneath him as he walked. This was going to be an incredibly long evening.

He walked into the backyard and there he was, Toby. His neck jerked slightly to the side and he let out a loud sharp whistle. A smile crept onto Jack’s face, Toby was here and everything was going to be okay. He walked to his… friend. He walked over to Toby and sat beside him. The two looked at each other, a large smile taking over his face as he plopped down next to Jack, having previously been squatting while tending his veggies.

“Hey.” Toby said simply, looking up at Jack as he tried to hide the smile on his face.

“Hey.” Jack replied, watching Toby twist tomatoes off the plant. Toby hummed quietly, the two sitting together in mostly quiet as they just enjoyed each other’s company. Jack held his hands out and held the vegetables that Toby harvested. The two walked into the house, Toby telling Jack about his day as he began to work on his dinner.

“How wa-was work?” Toby asked, glancing at him. His neck jerked to the side and he smiled at Jack. Jack’s stomach dropped a little. He had almost forgotten about his failure today. He would have to break the news to Toby that he would have to be gone all day tomorrow, probably late into the night. He let out an involuntary sigh, seemingly peeking Toby’s interest. “What happened?” he asked, turning around fully and looking up at Jack.

“I, umm, I was unsuccessful.” Jack sighed. He stared at the ground and frowned, Toby was going to be pissed. They were only allowed to stay here if they both completed their work for the faceless thing keeping them imprisoned in these woods. He braced for the yelling and stared at the ground, incredibly ashamed of his failure.

“I’m so-suh-sorry to hear that, you want me to cuh-cook suh-some-something for you?” he asked. Not a hint of anger in his voice. Jack took a second to calm himself, Toby isn’t like that, Toby doesn’t yell at him.

“I…yea, that would be nice.” Jack nodded, meeting his eye and giving him a small smile. Toby nodded and pulled out another pan, Jack scrambled to grab some of his canned organs from the fridge. He handed the mason jar to Toby and watched as he started to cook them. They two stood in the kitchen silently for the rest of the cooking of the meal. Jack picked at his fingers and stood closer to Toby, glancing at him and watching him switch between pans. He added spices and veggies, seemingly not thinking about any of it as he threw it in.

“Why don’t you ch-cha-change out of your s-sm-sm-smelly work clothes.” Toby suggested lightly, knowing Jack must have forgotten after coming home. Jack nodded and walked to their bedroom, changing while Toby finished up dinner.

They reconvened in the living room. They called it a living room, but it was really just an old busted up couch that Toby had put in the effort to fix by adding patches wherever the stuffing had started to creep out of the seams. There were a few posters up on the wall, but neither of them had wanted to go through the effort of finding a television. Even if they did manage to find one, they’d have to barter with Ben to get the thing running well enough to be worth the effort. Neither of them particularly wanted to go through the exhausting challenge of finding something the spector would find worth it’s while. They knew the ghost was just a lonely kid who adored attention, but neither of them had the energy to deal with it on a regular basis. So instead they allowed Ben to pester Jeff instead of drawing it’s attention too often.

Together they sat on the couch, Toby practically on Jack’s lap as they ate in silence. Jack had not noticed, but Toby had obviously picked up on his mood and decided to keep most comments inside his head for the night. After they finished Toby took the plates to the sink, washing them up and humming to himself. Jack loved when Toby hummed, sang, anything musical. Jack had a very hard time carrying a tune, not having a musical bone in his body. But Toby? Toby could replicate almost anything with his voice, and somehow translate that to his busted up old guitar he insisted on keeping.

Jack stood and walked to the kitchen, watching Toby as he washed. It was hypnotizing. Toby had a certain way he did everything, especially cleaning. Jack occasionally tried to help, but he could never manage to do it the way Toby wanted it done, so he just watched instead. Toby never got angry when he messed up cleaning, but he could tell it made Toby anxious for some reason. After Toby finished cleaning, he washed his hands thoroughly. They walked to their bathroom together, neither of them needing to ask the other. This is simply what they did every night. They would have dinner, Toby would clean, and they’d shower together.

They undressed and got into the shower together. Toby stood in front of Jack, hogging all the water as Jack shivered. Jack simply rolled his non-existent eyes and started to wash Toby’s hair for him. Toby sang quietly, making up the words and notes as he went. Toby turned and looked up at Jack, but did not wash his hair in return. Jack did not need his hair cleaned as often as Toby as his hair was a different type. When his hair did need to be cleaned they would set aside an entire afternoon for Toby to clean and restyle Jack’s hair however he wanted. At first he was not very good at the styling part, but he had grown better after time and many YouTube videos.

They got out and dried off, talking quietly as they walked to their bedroom. Toby dressed in his boxers and laid on their bed. He fidgeted and squirmed as Jack got dressed. Jack eventually crawled into bed next to Toby and they assumed their cuddling positions. Jack laid on his side and had his legs up halfway to his chest. Toby laid on his back right next to him and laid his legs overtop of Jack’s. Toby scooted as close as he could to Jack and hummed. Jack told Toby about his failure to complete his work that day, his voice staying even and factual the entire time. Even if he wanted nothing more than to crawl out of his own skin. Toby nodded and listened, the only noises he made being the occasional whistle.

“It’s alright Jack. Maybe I’ll come help you tomorrow?” he suggested, tucking his head up under Jack's chin and closing his eyes. Jack froze. Toby was never this touchy, not that he minded. Toby only really wanted to be held when something was wrong, normally he insisted on holding the much larger man. Jack loved holding Toby though, so he did not comment. Instead he closed his eyes too. He played with Toby’s hair gently and slowly fell to sleep.

[snapeaddict]

Snapetober day 1 - Foliage

Written in participation to Momo's unofficial 2023 Snapetober - thanks @momo-t-daye for the earthy prompt list! Will try to be consistent this year.

October 1st, 1997

Though he had cast more than a generous amount of spells on himself, some of his own making, the rustling produced by each of his movements seemed to him as though they echoed through the whole valley: they traveled to the far off mountains and then back to him with intolerable noise.

Severus glowered at the trees around him; their thinning foliage were responsible for this lack of discretion. He then lowered his gaze to the ground, stepping only on the gold, orange and red leaves, avoiding with striking expertise all the brown ones which, having had time to dry, produced the loudest sounds.

It was silly, of course. No one could hear him. But it kept his mind busy: it felt good, if frustrating.

He started counting his steps. He focused on the numbers, and the leaves. He had played these games more times than he could count these last few months, and had always lost: no effort of the mind, no challenge of the intellect was ever strong enough to conceal his aching heart to himself.

He halted.

There was the grave, tall and white and majestic. Severus was almost blinded by it – the sun shone bright that day, and the lake was, as usual, pitch black; the trees, all crimson red, detached themselves quite sharply from the sky behind them, too blue, much too bright too.

It was not beautiful, for there was no harmony between all those shades. But it was all meant to be joyful: that alone hurt terribly.

To conceal himself, Severus had circumvented the lake using a path that crossed the forest and led directly to the back of the grave, on the far left of the shore. He was about to step out onto the grass when a sound stopped him in his tracks: he froze, and his hand, below his cloak, squeezed his wand with disproportionate strength.

“I don’t know what to tell you”, a voice said, and he recognized it instantly.

It was coming from the front of the grave, not far from him.

Slowly, he leaned against the back of the monument, his expression hard and cold. He was pale, and his hands were trembling slightly.

“Every time I come here, and I don’t know what to tell you. I have cried, I have yelled, I – for Merlin’s sake, I have even pleaded with you. Now that I think of it, I do hope you have not heard or seen any of that. You know how I forget myself, when my emotions get the better of me.”

There was a pause. Severus’ gaze rested on the trees before him; it followed, with obsessive intensity, the fall of each leaf that had surrendered to the sweet autumnal breeze.

“The students are back. They have been forced to. That tells us everything we need to know about the ministry's current state of affairs. Sev-Severus… Severus is headmaster.”

He stopped breathing at the mention of his name. His eyes reverted from the trees to where Minerva’s voice was emanating from, to the left of the marble wall. He blinked several times, rapidly: the pain in his chest was, for a moment, all he could feel or think of.

“I am still… I am still waiting, Albus”, Minerva went on, and her voice was weak, fragile, completely unlike her. “I will take anything.” There was a strange noise, almost like a strangled sob. She cleared her throat. “The smallest sign. The smallest proof that you… and Severus… have some sort of greater plan.”

He was only vaguely aware of the scene before him, of the wind and the screaming buzzards above him. They were flying in a circle – he didn’t wonder why. He simply stared at the trees and saw nothing but colourful, suffocating chaos, a blurriness he did not realise was unnatural.

“I looked at him, Albus… I tried to look him in the eyes, but he avoided me… he has brought death-eaters into the castle… he says nothing. Albus; he says nothing. Why is that? You cannot have been fooled that easily. You cannot have made that sort of mistake. That would be unlike you – and what he has done, it is unlike him. I know him. I know you. I – I -”

All so red… melting and mingling and filled with a strange perfume of petrichor…

“Albus, I need you to be lying to me. The both of you.”

She let out a small whimper, and it echoed through the marble walls, unashamed. It reached Severus, and its vibration gently passed through his body.

Tears dropped to the floor, on brown leaves. He did not register their sound.

“I would survive a lie. I would survive deceit, and cunning schemes, and foolish martyrdom – I can go through it all. But, Albus…”

She rested her head against the cold white stone, and so did he, on the other side of the grave.

“I cannot bear this truth.”

[cascadeclan-gen]

Moon 0

When he wakes, he is in an unfamiliar clearing, trees standing tall and framing the starry night sky. Even after all this time, the sight of the glittering lights sickens him, rage rolling in his gut. Snowbloom turns from the stars to greet the gray and white molly approaching. She looks healthy and full, different from the half-starved corpse she became after whitecough took her.

He purrs. Her fur is smoke and stone and light and she purrs too. “Ridgepelt, I’m… I’m so sorry,” he says. “I failed you.”

“No,” she replies, gently. “You have done nothing of the sort. Cats die, Snowbloom. I knew the journey would be hard, and that we had an uncertain destination. I made my choices and I am proud of them. Now, chin up! I know you wanted it to be me, but it is time for you to receive your nine lives.”

Snowbloom raised his head. “Our ancestors have followed us?”

Ridgepelt shook her head. “For now, there is only me. I give you your first life, Snowbloom: for love. The love of a parent, of a sibling, of a friend. The love that ties a Clan together, and the love that drove you to pull LightClan apart.” It rolls through him, an embrace that burns like anger and soothes like home.

He searches the trees for the next life-giver, and startles when one of the trees begins bending down to him. “Your second life is from the trees,” Ridgepelt continues. “For growth; for standing tall during storms, for bending so you do not break.” This one makes him feel as though he is rooted in place, even as something batters his body. He tilts away from it, but stays firmly planted in the soil.

Next is the undergrowth, brambles and ferns sprouting from the ground until he cannot move without rustling a leaf, and cannot see through the thick cover. “For patience,” Ridgepelt explains. “It takes time to grow and cover, to create such a safe shelter. It takes equal time to traverse it, searching for what you want to find.” Snowbloom hears a mouse rustling through the leaf litter, and though he does not move, he feels thorns sliding through his fur as though he was stalking through the forest.

A wind picks up, blowing away the flora until he is once again in the clearing, though now he is pelted by rain and hail, sun and snow. “The wind grants you speed,” Ridgepelt tells him. “Swiftness to catch your prey, to play with kits, to save your Clanmates.” The wind picks up until he, too, feels he may blow away, and then settles.

“Your fifth life is from the Brightest Star,” Ridgepelt says. “For guidance. That you lead your Clan wisely, and share all that you know.” His world is plunged into darkness, and as he adjusts, he hears a soft voice. His mother whispers to him, telling him the story of the Brightest Star, and showing him how he can use it to find his way home. The memory shakes him, as he gazes up at the lone star he can see. He had almost forgotten his mother’s voice.

The star grows brighter, until the clearing and Ridgepelt have returned, and the sky is clear and blue, and the sun shines down upon him. “The sun grants life. Without it, plants could not grow, and prey could not feed, and we could not thrive, those that we feed would die and those that feed on them would suffer too. The sun gifts you a life for nurturing, and of knowing that all things feed another.” He feels the warmth of the sun and the heat of jaws at his throat, and is at peace.

A small mouse, only just growing its fur, approaches him next. It stands proud, though it is smaller than his own paw. He could catch it or crush it, but instead smiles at it fondly. Ridgepelt speaks again. “From prey, for balance. For taking enough, but not too much. For respecting all things, even the smallest among us.” This life comes as terror, deep in his chest. As though he is running for his life, as though he is chasing something he desperately needs, and all the while moving along a branch so thin one misstep will cause it to break.

When the swaying stops, he opens eyes he didn’t realize he had closed. Standing before him now is a massive beast he has only heard of in stories. Dark-furred and strange, the bear stares down at him. “From predator, for strength,” Ridgepelt says. The bear roars at him, and he knows: for protecting the small. For standing his ground. For letting go. He roars back. The bear nods, satisfied, and lumbers away.

“Watch over my son,” Ridgepelt says. “Know that I am with you always. The wind is my breath and the rustling leaves are my voice. I will not reside in the sky, but I and all who come after me will walk with your Clan.”

“I will watch over him and guide him and love him,” he promises.

Ridgepelt nods. “When you wake, you will be Snowstar. Your final life is from the wildfire.” As the molly speaks, the forest around him begins to burn. “For destruction. And all that comes after.”

Ridgepelt turns to smoke and joins the dark cloud growing above him, and Snowstar is quickly engulfed in flame. The fire and the forest and the leader burns and he screams; the fire recedes quickly, leaving nothing but ash and stone behind. Snowstar stands in the wreckage.

He wakes.

- Snowstar chooses Doveshade as his deputy.

- Skystripe requests that medicine cats be called Healers, and focus more on healing their Clanmates than interpreting dreams and visions. Snowstar acquiesces. Skystripe then requests that Healers be allowed to have kits. Again, while he privately has concerns, Snowstar agrees.

- The group decides on their name: CascadeClan.

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

TW: character death; blood

When Simon regained his wits, he finds no sign of the vampire lady that enthralled him. He also has no idea how long he's been under his thrall. He finds himself waking up to an empty, patchwork room. The walls were made from broken pieces of cement, assembled together like a giant jigsaw puzzle. Thin sheets of tin metal was laid on top of the walls to resemble a roof, and barely managed to prevent exposure. Damp dirt, just dry enough to avoid becoming mud, served as the floor, with layers and layers of newspapers to act as some form of insulation.

Yet despite the lack of proper resources, someone ensured this post-apocalyptic shelter contained personal touches. Crayon drawings and half written lyrics were pinned on most flat surface. A mattress of scrap cloth was laid out beneath him, sewn together with wide clumsy stitches. And lying next to him, as if to keep him company, there sits a stuffed toy - its long, threadbare limbs fraying at the edges.

Simon woke up in Marceline's home. But Marceline was nowhere to be found. His hand automatically reaches up to his head, and his fingers brush the cold kiss of metal. She didn't take it off. Now, what could that mean? And where has Marcy gone? And why hasn't she come back?

He jumps to his feet, storms out the shelter, and runs - runs - runs. The sweet whispers of frost - no, shut up! Shut up! Something is wrong! He needs to go. Where? He doesn't - the Empress. She would know! He reaches into the Crown, pushing past its cold promises and seizes the heart of its power. He summons a howling wind that nearly knocks him off his feet before it carries him up and over and far - further - faster!

The sun is a sliver of orange in the horizon. The stars are already twinkling in the indigo sky. And perhaps, it would have been better if light had completely abandoned him - the whole damn universe already saw fit to forsake him, why not light as well? A shroud of immutable darkness would have shielded him from... from...

Simon never reaches the Empress - never finds her in whatever den of depravity she dug for herself. As a self-styled expert on lost and forgotten things, he is doomed to find precisely what he's looking for.

He spies an abandoned camp - torn tents and tossed supplies. He hears screaming - men, women, children. No, that's not important. No. There - pressed against the trees all broken and bent, there is a little girl. Except, she's not so little anymore. It's been years. He left her. He left her.

She was supposed to be safe.

He lands, soft as if afraid to wake her. But her eyes are wide open, staring sightlessly into the distance. A sharp thing - he cannot look. Her shirt is soaked through - there's so much. Her hand holds a stake - she hasn't let go.

Time stops for Simon Petrikov. His thoughts fade to depthless black. His body becomes a distant memory. The world dissolves around him like snowflake melting in his palm.

It's dark now. The sun sunk a long, long time ago. In the lack of light, he could almost, almost believe that he was looking at someone else - anyone else. This could be another girl with black hair, pointed ears, and grey skin. This could be another daughter of a different man.

The axe damns him. Its sharp blade nestled deep into her chest, sliding straight into the tree. The axe is bright red and sharper than the Devil's tongue.

She was supposed to be safe.

She was supposed to be protected.

She was supposed to have her father.

tHe CrOwn HuMS.

It sears with power, balancing on a precipice, awaiting his command. He only needs to ask. His will be done.

A branch snaps to his left. The bushes rustle as a creature leaps out, long fangs ready to sink into its next meal. Poor thing. It freezes mid-air, neither feet will ever touch the ground again.

Frost begins to sweep and curl across the ground. It swallows whole everything it touches - every leaf, every worm, every creature in its path. It crawls through the veins, solidfying lungs, entombing hearts. The living and the dead and everything else in between - all turn to ice.

No one is screaming now.

Simon grabs hold of the axe. His fingers brush against the embedded strings - her work, undoubtedly. He grits his teeth, letting every curse and cry rot within his throat. He pulls.

How does that old saying go? When hell freezes over? Well.

Simon can answer that one, can't he?

[kimaswork]

Thoma x male!Reader

He finds you sad about something and cheers you up the best way he knows how (you decide)

I feel like Thoma would be a good singer and would be a sweetheart and sing to you until you calmed down. He just gives off the vibe of a loving mother y'know? I love him so much <3

In your shared room you were laying on the bed with your arms curled around a pillow as if it it would grow legs and leave you. Your day sucked, to say the least.

Tsukumomono groceries hired a new worker who you had the misfortune of training. They were around high-school age but they had a very entitled attitude to them. But despite the immense disrespect they showed, they still kept their place in the business.

Because with all the rude remarks and snide comments they threw your way they were young and cute, which brought in more customers than average. So they stayed since business was doing so well, which made your days forward hell.

Today however, was terrible, much worse than days prior.

☆•○●○•☆•○●○•☆

You were stocking up display shelves and pulling items in from the back, when you saw your coworker leaving on the counter chatting with someone. Leaning over you saw they were talking to people that seemed to be their age so you just thought they were friends and let it be.

Continuing your work, they got comfortable and louder, making it easier for you to listen in on them.

"So how's the new job?"

"It's not bad, I don't gotta do much. Just put up with the old man they stuck me with."

You clenched the cans in your hands but said nothing as you kept working. What could you do? It's not like you could go over and tell them to stop, it would outwardly look as if you were refusing customers.

"Damn, that's gotta suck."

"Yeah, the old dudes everywhere- Always stocking, cleaning, doing something. He's such a try hard."

You never hated anyone per sé, but at times like these you really did consider dumping the shrimp in your hands down this girls front.

"Hah- Fuckin' loser."

And that's what it took. Some were quick to anger, but not you. You were quick to sadness. Depression ran deep in your family and most medications didn't cut it, they helped but not enough. So by that point you spoke with Aoi and clocked out early.

Which leads to where we are now, with you on the bed trying to hold in anymore sobs as you heard the front door unlock. "____? ____, Hun, you home?" Thomas voice chimed through the air, making you sit up and clear your throat to respond with a croaky. "Here-"

Moments later, after hearing rustling and approaching footsteps, the door to your bedroom opened. "Hey baby, on the way home Aoi stopped me, said my boy had to go home early. What's wrong?" He pried gently as he sat on the bed. Tossing the pillow to the foot of the bed you made your way to your husband. Pulling him by the shoulders to lay down.

"Another rough day Hun?" He asks as you lay next to him. He places his hand on ue cheek and wipes away the dried tear tracks on your face. You nod in response. "Can you tell me about it?" You look down at his clothes, fiddling with the fluffy tassel he had on his left shoulder. He nodded, taking your lack of response as your answer.

"C'mere-" He huffs as he pulls you up and drags you both towards the headboard to cozy up. Thoma wraps the blankets around the both of you before pulling your head to rest on his chest. "My boy's been working too hard anyways, he needs a break." He says as he rakes his fingers through your hair, working through whatever knots were in there.

Nestled into his side you felt a sense of relief and calm wash over you that you haven't felt in a while. Before you had noticed the soft humming the was rumbling from his chest beneath you, you soon heard his soothing, gentle voice softly singing to you. His voice was softer than a feather and sweeter than a sweet flowers nectar. He relaxed you until your eyes shut and you soon drifted asleep on him, your problems nothing more than a leaf in the wind now.

[lieblingspulli]

Nightmares Be Gone: SKZ

W.c: 1.2k

Seungmin x Reader

Summary: You have a nightmare and Seungmin tries to comfort you but he’s impossibly half asleep.

A/N: AH, I’ve been trying to experiment with narrative and prose lately so bear with me. I know my stories kind of stray from the regular comfort fanfiction sometimes, but I really do love to tell stories that transport you to scenes while also giving you comfort! Lmk if it works haha. Anyways, here’s a short and sweet one. I feel like Seungmin is the type of guy who would be kinda hard to wake up all the way, but he tries anyway to be there for you. Enjoy!

Masterlist!

SKZ Masterlist

TW: Depiction of a nightmare, crying and anxiety. Suggest skipping some 10 paragraphs if you aren’t into that. 

The night air was warm as you walked down the street. It was unusually warm as you listened to the sound of clicking, only to realize that clicking was the sound of your boots against the pavement. You hadn’t even realized you were being so loud. 

The late November weather was supposed to be cold around this time of year. The shadows of the streetlamps stretched out before you, making ominous shapes on the pavement of the street. Nothing made a sound as you kept walking, even the frogs from the river were silent. You kept your hands in your pocket as you kept walking, not sure where you were going and why. You couldn’t stop walking, even though you wanted to. A nearby street light flickered. 

You reached to take off your sweater due to the warm, stuffy air, but you found yourself unable to peel it off of you. It was stuck to your shirt like glue. The clicking of your boots on the pavement continued. The street stretched for miles. 

As you tried to move your body in any other way possible, you began to feel a tightness in your chest, anxious to take control of the situation. This whole scene was ominous, seemingly unending and unsettling. 

Right when you passed your tenth street light, you were able to stop walking. The significance of the tenth streetlight was unknown to you, but sweet relief filled your chest as you suddenly stopped in your tracks. You checked around your surroundings but noticed no difference. 

The only thing that caught your eye was a car. Considering the street had been empty for so long, you eyed it, memorizing the color, the model, the windows, and every detail about it. But it was just some ordinary car. At least, that’s what it looked like to you. 

The whole situation seemed strange, foggy, and unfamiliar. The street was one you frequently walked in order to get to your boyfriend’s dorm, but it seemed somewhat unfamiliar when you walked down it. As you observed at a standstill, a gust of wind picked up and your hair flew into your face. Leaves that weren’t there before seemed to shower you, hitting your face and body in one gust. A strange chill went down your spine after you spit out a leaf that had made its way into your mouth. 

Using the momentary distraction, the car's high beams flicked on and suddenly the car was in front of you, or you were suddenly in front of the car?

The wind had pushed you forward and you looked around to find yourself scrambling to your feet, right in the middle of the street. The car lights flashed bright in your face and you held up your hands to block it. The wind gust was cold this time and that chill in your spine made you shiver. 

You looked up and felt your chest tighten as you noticed the car hurtling right towards you.

- 

You gasp and shoot straight up from bed, struggling to breathe deeply. Your breaths are shallow as you feel around you for the street, instead only finding warm sheets. You touch your face to make sure you were alive, finding wet tears on your cheeks. 

The night was more or less quiet, save for the faint buzz of the cicadas through the slightly open sliding door. You hear some rustling and a groan. 

“Jagi?” Seungmin’s voice startled you slightly, thick from being half asleep. You take a deep breath and lean your back and head against the headboard behind you. 

One. 

Suengmin rolls over to reach out to you. 

Two. 

You try to slow your breathing. Suengmin’s hand found your leg and he pats it like one would do to a dog. 

Three. 

Out of the corner of your slightly open eyes, you watch Suengmin lift his head from the pillow, displaying his bed hair. 

Four. 

“You okay baby?” Suengmin quietly calls out and drops his face into his pillow. 

Five. 

You scoot closer to him so he could wrap his arm around your waist. He was on his stomach, his face completely stuffed into his pillow. 

Six. 

Suengmin snakes his right arm around your waist and turns his head to cuddle into the side of your thigh. 

Seven. 

You rub your tired eyes, feeling the sleep leave your body. 

Eight. 

Suengmin calls out to you again. “Y/n?” You hear the grogginess in his voice. His voice sounds wonderful when he’s half asleep because it's deep and raw. 

Nine.

“Just a nightmare.” You whisper. You stare at the ceiling, still remembering the feeling the nightmare left you with. 

Ten. You made it to ten. 

You stop counting in your head and already feel much better, that tightness slightly leaving as you take control of your breathing. Almost as if on cue, Suengmin startles himself awake, remembering that you had a nightmare. He pops one eye open. You wriggle so you are laying on your side next to him, his arm now around your shoulder. 

“I’m sorry I woke you up Suengie.” You whisper. He shakes his head. 

“Are you okay?” He mumbles back. You nod, feeling better now that Seungmin is talking to you, although you doubt he’ll remember anything. He seems too sleepy to comprehend he’s even awake right now. He begins to automatically migrate his entire body so he fits right next to you. The space between the two of you is completely diminished. You snuggle your face into his chest as he wraps both his arms around you and kisses your face lightly. 

“I was so scared Seungmin. I almost died and it was scary.” You mumble into his chest. He tightens his arms around you and mumbles back incoherent words. You stifle a laugh and focus on feeling his heartbeat instead. 

The warmth of the room and the warmth of Seungmin’s arms create a very warm sauna around you, but you desperately cling onto your boyfriend, trying to make his heartbeat a part of your own breath. The steady rise and fall of his chest as he dozes back into his deep slumber lull you into a dreamlike state, but this time a cozy one. The room is completely silent, but a comfortable silence. A silence that only 2 in the morning can bring. A silence that only exists in the confines of your home. You let go of a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. 

Seungmin’s sudden incoherent babbling startles you out of your half asleep trance. 

“Next time you ….” he babbles on. 

“I’ll protect you..” Suengmin snuggles his face into the side of your head. You stay still, half afraid to wake him and half curious to see what else he says. 

“You can’t die, what about me..” He goes silent. 

“Love you baby.” He finishes up at last. His breathing and heartbeat even out again and this time, you’re sure he has fallen back asleep. You let out a chuckle and close your eyes, focusing on Seungmin’s constant heartbeat. You feel comforted by his presence and his attempts to make you feel better. You seem to forget all about your nightmare as you fall asleep in his embrace, warm and full of love to keep the nightmares away.