#maybe a magical inhaler is at the end of the forest

[happyheidi]

go where u breathe free. x

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Werewolf’s Bitch

Yandere Male Werewolf x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Noncon, breeding, knotting, inhuman genitals, reader eaten out, drool, piss marking, watersports, scent marking, lycanthropy, reader bitten by werewolf at end, smut, kidnapping, reader briefly stalked, general yandere behavior, yandere bully, bullied reader)  Word Count: 4.4k (Sorry that this is being reposted, I needed to edit the story and tumblr would not let me until I just deleted the whole thing, anyway, I worked extremely hard of this so I could hurry up and do more commissions, I am panicking because the window for cool season planting is nearly upon us. I normally would NOT rush to post a fic in the same day that I already posted one. I know the watersports is not everyone’s thing, but it has been a while since I wrote a fic with that kink and when I asked reader’s whether or not I should I got only positive responses, so I hope some people like this)

You were a librarian, you had always had a penchant for books, an obsession really, and you loved reading many different kinds. Right now you were reading The Bartimaeus Trilogy by Jonathan Stroud,  it was a fantasy series. It didn’t matter whether or not you liked the fantasy genre, your friend who was not super into reading kept recommending the series to you so you had to give it a shot. You were enjoying the light breeze and gentle sunshine towards the back of the park, in a lightly wooded area where the park gradually shifted into a forest. Leisurely, you continued to read until the sun just began to set. Little did you know someone was watching you from the trees. Axle hadn’t seen you in years, though it wasn’t uncommon for his thoughts to drift to you. He had a serious crush on you in high school, but so worried about his image he had not wanted to date the nerd so he bullied you instead. Relentlessly. He often thought what if he had been sweeter on you and more up front about his feelings, he’d probably have his arms wrapped around you and his cock buried deep inside you. Axle still would have picked on you, of course, it was how he showed affection and dominance, but it wouldn’t have been nearly cruel and relentless as it had been. And he would have been really sweet to you at times too, since he was sure little nerdy bookworms liked that kinda shit. His life wasn’t all bad though, he had been “afflicted” with lycanthropy. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the legends and folklore made it seem, for most people. Most were not feral and could freely change forms whenever they wished, from human, to wolf, and to the bulky hybrid form that most people thought of when they heard the word “werewolf.” There were exceptions though, some people did go feral in their wolf forms and change unwillingly during full moons. An encounter with one such creature was what had passed on the magical gift to him. Now his life was free, he lurked the woods for prey, hunted and then cooked what he had caught in a large cave he had claimed as his den. The lifestyle suited him, he could pretty much do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted, but it was a lonely existence and he wished he had a mate. Axle had been walking around, contemplating what he could do to get some friends or maybe even a lover when suddenly his nose, now hypersensitive even in his human form, picked up a familiar scent. One that he had not smelled in years but nevertheless one that he would be able to place anywhere. He had stolen whiffs of you while having you in headlocks and pushing you into lockers, had deeply inhaled the aroma of your underwear after sneaking into the locker room and stealing them whenever he was sure he wouldn’t get caught. So when he caught your wonderful smell in the breeze he bolted towards it. Just to watch, he thought to himself. And he did just watch, for a while. His eyes drank in your sight as the golden afternoon sun illuminated you so perfectly. Still such a fucking bookworm, reading all the way out here. The more he looked at you the tighter his pants got, would it really be such a bad thing if he just took you away? He could steal all the books you could want if that made you happy. You’d look so cute reading by the fire before he impaled you on his dick. It wasn’t like you could get away from him, even without his new found abilities he was faster and stronger than you could ever hope to be, but now that he was supernaturally imbued there was no chance you could ever get away from him. If you screamed it was okay, there were no witnesses around for the abduction and when he was fucking you back in his den there would be no one around for miles. He readjusted his cock in his torn jeans, fully erect at the thought. He talked himself into it. It wasn’t that hard, this may be his chance to have the future with you he had missed out on previously. You started to get up to leave, placing the book you had been reading into your backpack with the rest of your books that you planned to get through. Suddenly someone rushed out from the trees and snatched your backpack before you could put it on, running with it deeper into the forest. All you could see was their back as they ran off. Axle made sure not to run too fast because he knew you would chase him without thinking to get your precious books. “Please stop! Please! There’s nothing in there other than books! Please!” You screamed and chased the figure deep into the forest, until a chill ran through you as you looked around. You no longer recognized where you were and it was getting ever darker. Axle could have just used force to bring you this far, but he was enjoying playing with you like he used to. Just as you began to turn around and give up on the figure before you he turned around and was on you in an instant.

You recognized him immediately as you saw his face before he put his arm around your neck and licked up your neck creepily. You’d never forget who those mischievous eyes, cruel smirk, snake bite piercings and spiky punk style blond hair that was shaved at the sides belonged to.  

“A-Axle!? What the heck!? Let go! Wh-what do you want with me,” your voice was filled with fear and your eyes began to water, threatening to cry. “Well, you were in my neighborhood and I thought we could catch up~” You kept struggling in his grip, but you were winded from the chase earlier. What he said made no sense, there were no nearby homes, but you were a bit too busy to really contemplate his words. You punch and kicked at him but he just laughed like he had just heard the most hilarious joke, it would have been very insulting if being in a dark forest being manhandled by your old bully wasn’t so terrifying. Axle moved his arm around your neck then ruffled your hair, something about the gesture made you think he wasn’t out to just kill you. But then he gripped your arm tighter and started dragging you deeper into the woods. Your writhing and struggles to free yourself from his iron grasp did nothing to slow him down in the least. There was still a long way to go though, and instead of dragging you and hurting your much more delicate arms he hoisted you into his arms and slung you over his shoulder before starting to run at a speed not normal for a human. This also had the added benefit of scaring you and making you cry those adorable tears of yours. You kicked and screamed the whole time he held you, but the only thing you managed to accomplish was a severely sore throat and further exhaustion. In only a few short minutes Axle covered quite a distance with you. Not tired or out of breath at all despite the speed he ran at or the fact that he was carrying an entire adult on his shoulders. When he arrived at the cave he sat you down on a large bundle of stolen pillows, coats, blankets, and other soft materials. “W-where are we? Wh-why did you bring me here,” you asked almost unintelligibly through the hoarseness of your voice and the fear causing you to stammer. The fear you felt actually tugged a tiny bit at Axle’s heart, he just wanted to teasingly scare you, not make you all terrified. Poor little wimp. His little wimp, he thought, feeling a bit fluttery. Axle sat down beside you and roughly pulled you into his lap before caressing your arm and holding you close, in a manner he thought may be comforting. “What are you d-d-doing!? I don’t like this!” You were, understandably, immensely uncomfortable. Your former bully had his hands all over you. Did he think this was a hilarious prank? And why did he live in a cave? Was he a serial killer that lived in the woods in search of victims?? With each question your heartbeat increased.   Axle could hear your heartbeat. Still so sweet and fearful, just like you always had been~ But he didn’t want you to only associate him with fear and have a heart attack every time he held you. “Shhh, babe, shhh. It’s alright. I promise I won’t hurt you okay? I’ll keep you nice and safe~” Apparently he was not tactful enough to realize that licking and sucking at your oh so sensitive neck, was not very soothing to you. When you thrashed more and not less he got the memo and just held you close instead. There would be time for other stuff later. Right now holding you was enough, drinking in your scent like it was booze, and it was almost more intoxicating. He laid down on his side and pulled a very confused and scared you close to him once more, his arms hugging you tightly as if clinging to a life preserver. While Axle had never slept better than that night with you in his arms you stayed up until sheer exhaustion forced you into a troubled sleep. And when he woke he was so happy, he had half been worried everything had been a dream but no, you were really in his arms like you should have been for all these years. Axle wanted you to be awake so he determined that the most prudent way to wake you up was to pinch your ass. Much to his satisfaction, you woke up easily with a startled yelp, almost jolting off of the bedding. You were confused for a moment as your brain scrambled to remember where the fuck you were and why the fuck you were there instead of at home in your comfortable and familiar bed. And what had just assaulted your butt? Then the memories of the night before smacked into you like a brick wall. Axle. He had kidnapped you and spooned you all night for some unknown reason. Probably some sick prank, if he was just going to beat you up and murder you he would have done that already right? Not say all that stuff trying to comfort you before sleeping by you. Axle pulled you close and once again drew his tongue slowly up your cheek, like it was some sort of odd kiss, it creeped you out but you didn’t say anything opting instead to flinch away at his touch. “Oh come on, don’t be such a pussy, I haven’t hurt you,” he said smirking, obviously enjoying the bit of fear he caused from such a small action. “A-are you ever going to tell me why the hell you made me come here?” “What? I haven’t made you cum yet! Hahaha, I will later though.” You rolled your eyes at his juvenile joke but he just stared at you with a hungry look in his eyes that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m serious! Wh-why am I here, this is insane and illegal! I-I’m leaving!” You started to walk towards the path that led to the cave entrance, but Axle growled in such an animal-like and primal way while stepping forward to block your path that it frightened you into remaining still. “You’re not leaving okay, nerd? You want to know why you’re here? Well it’s so I can fuck you silly and have someone to spend time with. I’m your boyfriend and you’re my property. So sit down, read your little books by the fire, and get settled because I am going to go get us some food and when I come back we are going to eat then we are going to go at it like rabbits.” You stared at him with eyes wide, now more paralyzed than ever with fear and utter bewilderment. He couldn’t be serious could he? You didn’t want that at all, this is the piece of shit that made your entire middle and high school years an absolute horror to get through. During your stunned silence he walked up to you and kissed you quickly on the lips before rushing out of the cave to search for some food. Was he stupid on top of absolutely bat shit crazy? Did he really think you were just going to stay here to be raped by him? Did he actually believe that you would be totally okay with being abducted by your former bully and you would be so enamored with him that not only would you let him put his dick anywhere you but you would also let him be your boyfriend?? Obviously that was not going to fucking happen in any way, shape, form, or fashion. You gave him a few minutes to get far away and then you gathered your bag of reading materials and headed out of the cave that Axle called home. It was too easy, luckily you remembered the general direction back to the park and began on your merry way, running as fast as your feet could carry you. Axle, though, was not really stupid. He may have been a bit of an impulsive hothead and a brute, but he was not without some intelligence. He figured you would almost certainly try to escape while he was out and about and he kept his hunt somewhat near the cave, and down wind from it. Once you left the shelter the wind quickly carried your scent right to his powerful nose. He could smell you so clearly and immediately made a beeline for your precise location. You had thought things were going well, you had put significant distance between you and the cave and were sure he would not be able to catch up to you. But you heard some rustling through the grass and a snap of twigs. You turned around and saw him coming right for you with unholy speed, Axle. Somehow he managed to close the distance between the two of you much faster than should have been possible before lunging and tackling you to the forest floor. This time you didn’t even bother struggling once he had a hold of you. Once more he slung you over his shoulder, smirking this time as you went limp, that was good. At the very least you were learning you could not fight him. Now you only had to learn you couldn’t run either. He wasn’t worried, you were a nerd after all, you would learn quickly. Before you knew it you were back in the cave, he placed you carefully on the rocky floor. You looked at him curiously wondering what he was going to do to you. He responded only with a shit eating grin. He began trying to take off your pants and clothes, and you struggled as much as you could. Which disappointed him, he thought you would have realized that he could always over power you, he had always been able to. Axle let out another beastly growl and that seemed to get the message across, this was happening. As he undid his belt you began to fear the worst, you were sitting naked below him as he was about to whip out his dick, what else could you expect to happen? You began to cry and plead for him not to rape you. He used his belt to tie up your arms before he pulled his pants down slightly. You stared at him as he stood before you with his prick aimed directly at you. Before you could figure out what he was doing he unleashed a hot stream piss all over your naked body. The smell was pungent and you gagged a bit as some of the fluid found its way into your mouth, he must have been holding it for a while because he completely drenched you. Axle had a devilish grin. “This should help remind you of your place. You are my little bitch got it? The scent will make it much easier to smell you and keep anyone else away. And I doubt you will try to scurry off without clothes.” Your abductor laughed maniacally as he emptied your books out on the table and took the bag. He placed all your clothing in it before slinging it around his back. “Be a good little weakling and wait here. Not that you have a choice,” he said as he departed. Axle made a mental note to scent mark you like that regularly, you covered in his scent made him almost lose control and breed you right then and there. But you both needed food, you were a fragile little thing he desperately wanted to take good care of and keep healthy and you would both need your energy for the all night fuck fest he had planned. Back on the floor of the cavern you were defeated, your face wet with tears and piss. You reeked of him and the fluid was becoming dry and sticky in places. This wasn’t fair, what had you done to deserve this. You never bothered anyone, you were a sweet person who just wanted to be lost in their books. You lay on that floor, stiff, stinking, and sticky for what felt like hours until Axle returned, but in reality he had only been gone around fifty or so minutes. He sauntered in with a hand that held a bundle of dead rabbits, and another hand full of foraged vegetables, fruits, and nuts. You wondered how he had caught anything. He did not seem to have any weapons or traps around. “Ah, there’s my good little bitch, I see you stayed in place for me.” Axle took his haul of food into another room of the cavern, presumably a larder or kitchen of some sort, before coming back and tending to you. He undid the belt binding your arms and was about to clean you up, but something about you stopped him. He paused and took a moment to just stare at you, so obedient, so drenched in his scent, so good for him. A perfect little mate. And a perfect mate needed to be bred and marked in the most permanent manner possible. Forgetting his plans to feed the both of you and then go at it later that night sniffed at you and let out a low growl. He needed to mate his bitch. Now. You were limp as a rag doll as he picked you up and put you in the pile of bedding material, despite the gross “scent marking” that he had applied to you not even being rinsed off yet. You felt Axle’s warm tongue carefully licking at your crotch, occasionally he broke away to kiss your soft thighs. His strong hands roamed every inch of your flesh that they could reach. He was like an animal as he began lapping at your entrance, stretching you out and getting you ready for mating. When his tongue slid into you it finally elicited a response and broke you out of your catatonic state. You tried to push him away to no avail, though he did take a moment to look up at all the commotion. As you looked at him you realized he almost seemed a bit larger than he was earlier, and had he always had that stubble, you could have swore that he had been clean shaven. Not that you had been in the best emotional state to make such careful observations. But then you saw a change made before your very eyes, and there was no denying it. His previously brown eyes had turned a fierce glowing yellow and as drool pooled and dripped at the corners of his mouth his teeth grew longer and sharper. Now you were really scared, more terrified than you had been since your kidnapping, what was this beast? Meanwhile Axle was running almost entirely on instinct, he had a vague sense of self but his impulses were simply too strong for him to ignore. The more you struggled the more he felt the unbearable need to prove himself to you. You were denying him as his mate so he had to show you how strong and capable he was, he had to be the mightiest he could be so you would be happy with him and have no doubts who the strongest man for you was. No doubt who owned you. He continued to transform into a full blown werewolf right before your very eyes. His clothing tore away as they were ripped apart by the muscles bulging out beneath, thick blonde fur covered every inch of his body, claws grew from his nails, you could see glimpses of a tail swinging strongly behind him and his ears grew longer. His erect cock became canine like in nature and his musky nuts sung below, full of potent seed to fill you with. You screamed in terror and tried to kick him away but the beast that was formerly Axle would not allow itself to be denied. Had to mate you. Had to prove himself as a good partner. Had to show you he was powerful, could keep you safe. You tried to kick him away but this only cemented in his mind the absolute need to subdue you and yew his. During his shift into his strongest form you had managed to scoot away from him, he grabbed you by the ankles and pulled you back towards him, you tried to grab at anything you could to stop him, futilely throwing pillows and blankets at him in a last ditch hail Mary attempt to get away, but it was as hopeless as all your other attempts. When he had you under him he forced you into a mating press and shoved his hard cock to the hilt inside of your drool slickened hole. Once he was deep inside he let loose another wave of piss. Had to mark your insides as his property. Had to. Needed to make sure no one else thought about using his property. His mate. His. After Axle had once again marked you with his urine he began slowly thrusting in and out of you. But he quickly got tired of the pace, werewolves were not exactly known for restraint, especially when so deeply under the spell of their instincts. You yelped as he painfully shoved himself in and out of your quickly sore hole. Precum, drool, and piss leaked out of you and down his shaft and balls as he bred you, his huge nut sack slapping your ass with every thrust. Luckily you had been so well lubed by all of his fluids or else you would have been in extreme pain. You were ashamed to admit it but your body was betraying you and the railing you were receiving from this barely human monster was beginning to feel amazing. His knot was slowly swelling within you, creating delicious friction as it rubbed against your inner walls. But interrupting any climax you were making your way towards was Axle as he nuzzled your neck with his wet nose before aggressive licking and nipping at it. But he did not stop there, he had to mark you, make you his mate, claim you in every way, you’d look even more beautiful wearing his claim. So without hesitation or forethought for the consequences of turning you into a werewolf, he bit down at the nape of your neck. Hard. You cried out in a startled shock as he licked away the blood from your fresh wound. He had to comfort his mate. Had to. He didn’t stop licking until your tears lessened and you seemed relatively calm. The entire time he was biting you though he was still fucking you at a moderate pace, and he finally came to the beautiful sound of your overstimulated cries and whimpers. You were so good for him. Perfect fragile little bitch made to be filled up full of his seed and protected by him. You felt a growing pressure inside of you as his knot reached full size, binding the two of you together, and his cock throbbed deep within you as it shot rope after rope of warm semen. You had not gotten your climax yet though, and he couldn’t accept that, you had taken his so so well, you had been such a good mate, the perfect breeding bitch, you even took his mark and everything. Even if it wasn’t by choice. You deserved to feel pleasure. So Axle rocked his hard knot back and forth inside you, as much as he could move it with it at the size that it was, and slowly coaxed an orgasm from your hot mess of a body. He stopped when he felt it and heard you moan and whimper loudly, your voice full of pleasure. After achieving his goal of pumping his wimpy bookworm full he finally regained clarity of mind and his instincts lost their grip on his actions. He realized what he had done and was a bit embarrassed he had lost control like that. He had planned to very slowly ease you into the truth about being a werewolf. Still, he couldn’t argue with the results, you passed out under him from all the sensations he had brought to you, and him on top of you with his cock tight and snug within your hot depths. He was not in the least worried about you being a werewolf, it would only make you more dependent on him, you did not know the first thing about being one. And if you ever did escape he could always overpower you. He was stronger than you when you were both humans and he would remain stronger than you in any form. You would always be Axle’s bitch.  

[yourlocalbreadenthusiast]

Hi. I exist.

Ello. I'm a Pinterest convert who happened to join at the same time as the great Reddit migration, so that's fun. Anyways, figured I'd make a post to give people some info about me.

I'm in a large number of fandoms, including (DEEP INHALE), SCP Foundation, Wanderer's Library, The Owl House, Gravity Falls, Amphibia, Generation Loss, Murder Drones, Marvel, Star Wars (Somewhat), FNAF, DnD, Wings of Fire, Percy Jackson universe, Grishaverse, The Dragon Prince, Nimona, The Hunger Games, and probably some other I forgot to mention.

I'm also a bit of a nerd and hyperfixiate on both fictional and nonfictional things, I know wayyyyy too much about things like Chernobyl and Plague Doctors. I also sometimes write as a hobby and am learning how to art, still kinda figuring it out though. Due to the writing thing, I know a lot of incredibly random facts that I shouldn't, as well as just random science stuff.

I like helping people, so don't be afraid to reach out with questions or concerns if you need help with something. If you want info on things, I'm more than happy to help. Here's some things I know a lot about:

The Black Death, Plague Doctors, Chernobyl, oddly specific horrific events in history, the fandoms I've listed above, the lowcountry region of USA (Southeastern coast, I live in South Carolina about 15 minutes from the beach) and the ecosystem of said area (Marshes, swamps, beaches, and our temperate forests), mythology (Greek, Roman, Egyptian, and some Norse), SCIENCE, and other things I'm probably forgetting.

Seriously gimme asks I wanna be a living encyclopedia.

For writing, I mainly like to do fantasy, some sci-fi, and a bit of horror. I'm far from consistent with when I write, you know how it is with motivation.

This IS a safe space blog for LGBTQIA+ people. I don't care if you're straight, gay, lesbian, bi, pan, omni, somewhere else on the spectrum, like asexuals, aromantics, and aroaces, or maybe you're enby, or maybe you're trans or genderfluid, or something else I forgot to mention. I do not care. You are all welcome here, my only DNIs are if you're going to be rude. One of my mottos is "I'll respect your opinion as long as your opinion doesn't disrespect anyone else's existence or rights."

I sorta use a persona for some areas of Tumblr, such as Wizardblr, so here's a reference for that:

Name: Dr. Corvius (Will respond to Doc, Doctor, and Crow), Official Title is "Corvius The Plagued."

Appearance: Dr. Corvius appears human at first glance when wearing full attire, but this is not the case. They are actually an avian, with feathers covering most of their body and rough, scaled skin similar to that of bird feet covering their hands, forearms, lower legs, and their feet. Their fingers have short claws on the ends, and their feet are structured like that of a crow. They don't wear shoes, as their feet are not well shaped to even wear them, and they frequently perch on branches and the like, which is far easier with their talons exposed. They do have wings, and usually will tuck these in under their mantle, giving the appearance of a feathered cape. They wear the outfit of a plague doctor, with a long black robe, mask, and other accessories, including a pouch of supplies. They also carry around a plague doctor stick, which doubles as an arcane focus. Under their plague doctor mask, they have an actual beak. (Essentially just take a Kenku from DnD and give it wings, and a plague doctor outfit.)

Abilities: They are a magic practitioner, specializing in necromancy, alchemy, chaos magic, and experimentation. She is also good with medicine, and despite not being licensed in any way, is incredibly good at healing people. Birds, specifically corvids, seem to follow them around, and will obey their commands. Their "flock" consists mostly of crows and ravens, but has a few magpies and rooks as well. This Flock is actually tied to her, so protection spells and immunities that she has extend to them. They can make noises like that of corvids, allowing for communication with their flock, and can also mimic sounds.

Behavior: They are generally a wise and intelligent person, taking the logical approach to things. They are kind, and are always willing to lend a helping hand.

Background: [ERROR: DATA LOST]

(The persona reference is a WIP im writing this late at night and I gotta go to sleep, I'll finish it later.)

(Contact me if you want an autopsy or reanimation done)

Ok byeeeeeeeee

Stealing these crows from this post

[shostakobitchh]

chapter 56: sneak peek!

She sat up just as the door opened, far gentler than Ariel had anticipated he would. He would have scared the living daylights out of her if she hadn’t seen him coming on the coin, following his trek through the dungeons and back to her.

Snape’s eyes locked onto hers. They were somehow bright — alight with some emotion Ariel didn’t understand — couldn’t put her finger on — had frightened her, in the past. Now, it almost seemed to hold her captive, in that place between time, before the next footfall, before her next inhale.

He then walked straight past her, into his bedroom, and closed the door, just as gently as before.

There was the distinct sound of shattering glass. It was muffled, but it was there, and lasted for a minute or so. Ariel let her gaze fall to her hands and recalled the sounds of the Durlsey’s, of their ransacked bedroom, and smiled.

After a moment of — weird — silence, the door jerked open again and Snape stalked out, yanked open one of the drawers in his desk, and lit a cigarette with the end of his wand.

He didn’t even look at her. Maybe he’d forgotten she was there.

She cleared her throat.

Nothing.

She might as well have been part of the bloody wallpaper.

She did it again. Snape’s left cheek spasmed before the rest of his face was enveloped by smoke.

“You didn’t catch him,” Ariel sighed. “did you?”

Snape took a long drag from the cigarette, glaring down at the picture on his desk. He rubbed his hand across his forehead tiredly.

Ariel couldn’t help but feel relieved. She didn’t know what was worse — Snape catching Black, or Black catching Snape. If all Black had was a knife, though, she supposed it was probably the former.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” Snape muttered, finally. He still wouldn’t look at her.

“You seriously think I could sleep after all that?” Ariel eyed him for a minute. “You sure look like you could use some, though.”

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion.” he glanced down at the picture frame, his eyes narrowing.

Ariel crept up from the couch, wrapping the sheets around her shoulders. He looked truly awful — smelt a bit odd, too — like smoke — not cigarette smoke — but that ting of rust that magic had, sometimes. She remembered smelling it in the Chamber.

Snape didn’t look at her as she approached — he just kept glaring at the picture of the forest. Ariel stared at it, wondering what she was missing, when his dark eyes flickered to her.

“You actually did as you were told, for once.” he said, sounding far too impressed for Ariel not to take it as an insult.

Ariel scowled. “I didn’t want to get stabbed to death, thanks very much.”

Snape exhaled through his nose, a trail of white smoke enveloping his face for a moment. “I suppose you’ve inherited some semblance of survival instincts," he said, his voice deadpan. "It's a wonder you're still alive, after all."

Ariel rolled her eyes at him, but her heart throbbed at the backhanded compliment. "Thanks a lot.”

He turned towards his desk again, refusing to acknowledge her attempts at lightening the mood.

"Maybe you should evaluate your own survival instincts and get some sleep." Ariel said flatly.

Snape didn't respond, simply moving papers around on the already cluttered desk. Ariel sighed, stretching her arms as she meandered back towards her makeshift bed on the couch. But as she moved away, she saw Snape twist the picture frame so it no longer faced him. She stopped and watched. He looked — angry — always angry — but somehow — lost.

As Ariel watched him, a pang of sympathy pricked her heart. It was an odd feeling — she’d never felt bad for him, but here he was, the night still clawing at him, gnawing at his present.

She decided to push her luck. Taking a few steps back towards Snape, she cleared her throat lightly. He still didn't look up from his desk. It was as if he had erected an invisible wall around himself and Ariel was determined to break it down.

"I could make some tea," she offered quietly, inching closer to his desk, "or maybe coffee, if that's what you prefer."

Snape looked up, his dark eyes meeting hers. A flicker of surprise passed across his face before he quickly masked it with his usual expression of detached irritability.

"If I wanted a house elf, I’d summon one." he grumbled, taking another long drag from the cigarette. His eyes continued to glare down at the picture frame.

"I'm perfectly capable of boiling water and steeping leaves, thank you very much," Ariel shot back. A year ago, he would’ve thrown her out by now, but she had just managed a conversation longer than two sentences with Snape that didn’t end in him losing his head — progress.

Snape simply grunted in response and Ariel took that as permission. She briskly turned away from the desk, heading over to the quaint little kitchenette that was attached to Snape's office. As she prepared the tea — chamomile, because it was late and they both needed sleep — she couldn't help but steal glances at Snape.

He’d put out his cigarette now and was staring blankly at a spot on the wall, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

As the kettle whistled softly, Ariel lifted it with a potholder, pouring the boiling water into two cups. The steam rose, caressing her face and filling the silent room with a soothing aroma. She lingered by the kitchenette for a moment longer than necessary, allowing herself to enjoy the scent, the warmth. She curled her toes into the floor — her feet were icicles.

Snape still hadn’t moved. His gaze was still focused on that spot on the wall. Ariel watched him from the corner of her eye, her heart experiencing an odd flutter. It wasn't anxiety or fear — rather, it was something akin to concern — a feeling she'd never associated with Snape before.

She carefully carried the mugs over and set them on the coffee table, climbing back into her nest-bed. She sat there, waiting for him to notice her again. When he did, he looked at the steaming mugs, and then Ariel.

Ariel patted the opposite side of the sofa, right beside her nest-bed.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. He moved towards the couch with a clenching stiffness in his shoulders, as if each step was a conscious effort.

Ariel watched as he lifted a hand, his long, pale fingers hovering over the steaming mug for a moment before he finally took it. Pulling out his wand from the inside of his robes, he gave it a slight flick, casting a Cooling Charm.

He did the same to hers. She smiled.

Lowering himself onto the sofa, he sat as straight as an arrow, glowering into the fire like he wanted to fling the contents of his mug into it.

“So,” Ariel started, slurping her tea. “Black didn’t stick around, huh?”

[indorset]

Newt Scamander x Reader

prompt: visiting Hogwarts.

Pairing: Newt Scamander x Female!reader. 

Summary: You are the Care of Magical Creature professor at Hogwarts and Newt paid a visit. 

Words count: 570.

Warning: none. Not FB compliant.

Winter was near. Newt shivered as he felt the cold air rushed by. He pulled his collar impossibly higher, then started to descend down the steps towards the Forbidden Forest. The late October sky bore an orange hue; weak sun rays shone through what was left of the leaves on the trees. A flock of students stood at the edge of the Forest, colored in blue and green scarves, a stark contrast with the autumn aesthetic. Their Care of Magical Creatures professor, however, stood out even more, as a large, bright pink bird perched on her shoulder. 

Newt approached the end of the steps and stood by the pumpkin patch. Class was dismissed, and the students hurried back into the warmth of the castle. They paid no attention to him, chattering mindlessly as they passed by. Newt’s attention was on the professor, as she made a flourish movement with her wand, and the Silencing Charm was lifted. The Fwooper started to sing almost immediately, but the professor didn’t seem to mind. She appeared to be enjoying the song. Then, as if feeling Newt’s eyes on her, she turned to him and let out the most brilliant smile.

“Newt!”

Newt’s feet moved on their own accord, unable to help but being drawn to that smile like a moth to a flame. He felt his face break into a smile of his own.

“Y/N!”

Y/N swirled her wand one more time, and the Fwooper’s song could be heard no more. The bird flapped its wings away, and started to munch the treats in the bucket nearby. 

“Newt! You are here!” Newt was pulled into a hug so tight that he felt all the air had escaped his lungs, as he often found himself to be breathless around Y/N. 

“I had a meeting with Dumbledore today, so I thought I would pop by and say hello.” Newt smiled into Y/N’s hair, inhaling the crisp autumn’s breeze with a hint of sweet apple scent and-

“Your hair smells like dungbomb!” Newt exclaimed and broke the embrace.

“No thanks to Guinevere here.” Y/N rolled her eyes at the Fwooper. “She has been refusing a bath ever since a Gryffindor boy threw a dungbomb at her just because he was rubbish at Silencing Charm. I’ve tried treats, sneak attacks, bribery… nothing works on her.”

Newt allowed himself a fond smile as Y/N raised her wand for a Scouring Charm. As if sensing the imminent danger of a thorough bath, the Fwooper stopped her quest for devouring the treat bucket, glared at Y/N and flew into the hut by the Forest. 

Y/N sighed and pointed her wand at herself. “Well, I can keep Cleaning myself, but if that ball of a bird keeps refusing baths, you’re keeping her!” 

Newt smiled and brushed a stray hair away from Y/N’s face: “ Maybe, if Mummy and Daddy lived together, then bath time wouldn’t be so bad after all?”

“What?” Y/N widened her eyes at Newt.

“Dumbledore had agreed to pen the foreword for my book; it’s being published in a fortnight.” Newt added gently: “ I’m coming home!”

Newt pressed their foreheads together, bringing their clasped hands to his lips. “Move in with me?” 

“Yes!” Y/N whispered, trembling with emotions. “Yes!” Newt could feel her smile against his lips. He shivered, but this time, it wasn’t because of the cold. 

[talkfantasytome]

Autumn Leaves

Nesta watches leaves from her favorite spot in the cabin as she and Cassian settle in for their weekend away.

Warnings: None | Word Count: 713 | Nessian Masterlist

The Cabin Masterlist | Read on AO3

a/n: I wrote three drabbles in a notebook while I was concussed. Idk if I'll write more in this AU, or when, after those first three. But it was a nice little escape, and a way to not just be bored and twiddling my thumbs while I was supposed to avoid "stimulating my brain".

The forest was on fire.

Not in a dangerous, smoking, terrifying way. It was a calming, comforting fire. The kind that only appeared in the height of autumn, before death extinguished it with the cold of winter.

Treetops blazed in hues of crimson, mustard, and amber. They surrounded Nesta on all visible sides, alternating chaotically. No pattern or symmetry could be seen, yet it was perfect.

Green was a foreign concept here, in the valley below the mountains. Nesta knew that, above the cabin, evergreens flourished, leading you up to the mountain's very peak. But below them, it was all fire.

She held her mug of warm cider in both hands, close to her chest. It heated her skin as much as a sip did her organs. Necessary on a day like today, a nip in the air that followed them inside. She inhaled the steam, savoring the sweet scent of apples and cinnamon.

It was a treat from their favorite orchard. Always their first stop when they came up to the cabin. An hour of apple picking to stock up for the weekend, and then they'd add a half-gallon of spiced cider and a case of apple cider donuts to round out the purchase. Calories didn't count in the cabin.

That's what Nesta told Cassian, that first time she added donuts to their little cart. He gave her a toothy grin and agreed wholeheartedly. The next year he even surprised her with a sign, painted by her artist-sister, with the saying on it. The sign now hung above the entrance to the cabin's kitchen.

Taking a sip, she let the warmth of the drink flow through her as she continued to stare out the window. In the light of the afternoon, the view was so clear through the glass she could barely make out her own reflection. She couldn't see the oversized, burnt sienna sweater she was wearing, or the mahogany and ginger flannel blanket her legs were curled under. It was just trees and leaves as far as the eye could see.

It was her favorite spot in the house. The large window jutted out a bit, leaving enough room for a cushioned bench seat. She'd added some throw pillows for aesthetic and comfort when Cassian started bringing her up here, which she now leaned on, propped up against the wall.

It maybe her favorite spot in the whole world. It was impossible for the serenity of the trees to not take her over when she sat there. All of her worries and anxieties, her stresses and disappointments just faded away when she was there. Whether by some magic in the cabin or a natural effect of nature, Nesta was at peace. And she always savored the feeling.

"Got it!"

Her husband's voice flowed through the air, followed by the soft crackling of a flame recently born.

"Give it a few minutes and we'll have quite the roaring fire," he added, walking backwards toward her. His eyes remained on the fireplace, as if even a blink could destroy his work.

Nesta sighed softly, "It will be perfect."

Finally turning, Cassian beamed at her. He closed the gap between them and then lifted Nesta slightly, moving her so he could slide into the seat behind her. Once he was situated, she leaned back again, this time against his chest. Nesta adjusted the blanket to cover the legs that were now stretched across the seat on either side of her.

"It always is, with you here," he breathed. Cassian pressed a gentle kiss to her head before grabbing his own mug from the end table by them. "How are the leaves this year?"

Nesta's gaze followed a particularly bright red leaf as it fluttered to the ground. "Wonderful." She rested her head against his shoulder. "Even better now that you've joined me."

He was the true magic of the cabin. And not just because it was his long before they'd ever met.

Cassian smiled against her temple as his free arm wrapped around her waist, pulling Nesta closer to him.

No. The magic was Cassian himself - his strength, his confidence, his unfailing optimism - that brought peace to Nesta's life. It was his very essence in the cabin that enveloped her with it here.

@live-the-fangirl-life @generalnesta @secretlovelybeauty @julemmaes @boredserpent @autumnbabylon @lady-winter-sunrise @moodymelanist @sv0430 @nesquik-arccheron @gwynrielsupremacy @katekatpattywack @moonstoneriver77 @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @swankii-art-teacher @lemonade-coolattas @emily-gsh @my-fan-side @champanheandluxxury @sayosdreams @simpingfornestaarcheron @perseusannabeth @clemidansleschoux @meher-sumedha @labetenoir @vinylcryes @shinya-hiiragi @starryblueskies7 @a-court-of-milkandhoney @pintas3107 @embersofwildfire @superspiritfestival @aks18 @thewayshedreamed @lunabean @xstarlightsupremex @mis-lil-red

Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list! 😄

[murderchonk]

Ahh so idk if yk but there’s a very cool DnD-esque Spooky Month Fantasy AU on the go by @666melvin666 ! You should check it out! :D

Here is a little short I wrote about their Dragon!Frank meeting lil Elf!Flutter

⚠️ Warning for ONE suggestive bit?

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨🐉🧝‍♀️✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Frank had sought out a healer in a quiet land away from the last town he’d decimated. He couldn’t believe his luck coming upon one in such a secluded place. A little elf with healing magic and soft eyes.

Frank has a problem. During his vengeful rampage he’d lost a scale in a rather important place that had left him quite vulnerable. No, heh, not there. It was under his left arm. If an arrow were to pierce him there it could reach his heart and it would be the end of him. Dragons were long lived beings and their scales grew slowly, and given the mob of angry townsfolk currently crawling out of the newly formed smoking crater he’d made and howling for vengeance upon him, he simply did not have time to wait.

The little thing wasn’t even 5 feet, less than a mouthful in his true form. As it was, his human form loomed over her when he had approached. His shadow falling across her books and causing her to look up at him with wide eyes the green of the forest. She didn’t scream, surprisingly, but uttered a soft gasp as if she’d pricked her finger on a thorn. How apt, for something wicked had indeed come her way.

The elven woman sat very still in the grass in a bundle of green skirts, the way her ears twitched reminded him of a rabbit and low chuckle rumbled out of him, causing a visible stir within her. She hadn’t run away though, that was a start. If he focused he could hear her little heartbeat pounding in her chest. But he could not smell any fear on her.. something else maybe? Lavender..peaches..old books..and..? He cleared his throat, his wings popping up. Well he hasn’t expected that.. just what had she been reading anyway?

While he’d been studying her, she had been doing the same to him. He was probably the biggest dragon Flutter had ever seen. If he wanted to eat her, he surely would have done so by now? Not that there was much she could do about it if he decided to. She’d been so engrossed in her reading she hadn’t heard the leathery flap of his wings until he touched down a few feet in front of her. His presence and sheer size were unexpected, but what she found most startling about him were his features. Not the horns or the tail, not the wings that any bat might die of envy upon encountering. No, it was his face. His strong, angular jaw, the heavy brow shadowing the drowning darkness of his eyes that seemed to pierce right through her. The set of his mouth, how soft his lips seemed where they met his teeth.

But perhaps what was most striking about him was his sadness. The pain that was etched into his expression, how he moved like he’d been wounded by something she could not yet see. It made her chest ache and as a reflex, she had reached out her hand to him. And it was his turn to softly gasp.

Her hand was small and delicate, like a doll’s in his. Gentle fingers that took hold of him. He could feel her magic when she brushed his palm, it tingled pleasantly as he helped her to her feet. Still so small. He crouched down, hoping she would not take it as an insult, it seemed more rude to simply pluck her from where she stood and hold her up to his level, so he attempted to come closer to hers. She did not retreat as he grew nearer, though perhaps she got pinker? She could feel the heat of dragon fire emanating from him, when he spoke she smelled the smoke on his breath. One deep inhale and he could toast her like a marshmallow where she stood. But she bet her life he wouldn’t. At least, not just now.

He had explained his predicament and she had gladly agreed to help him. Fixing his armour had gone well. He had transformed at her request and she had gingerly climbed up him to reach the part of him that he had lost. Flutter could not help but marvel at his scales. Iridescent and harder than diamonds, when the light struck them they held infinite shades of blue that took her to the ocean she had only seen in her dreams. The 30 foot dragon had shivered at the little elf’s touch against his vulnerable skin. Her hands were soft and she had used them with tenderness and care. It was an honour to be trusted like this, few people ever saw a dragon under their armour, let alone got to touch. The both of them had tingled where their edges met that day. Him as the soft light of her magic flowed and ebbed through his skin. Skin that was incredibly sensitive as it seemed, for dragon’s hides were so rarely exposed this side of death. And her at being allowed to touch something so special, so fragile and dear. If he had been able to see her eyes, they were wet with tears as she worked, so moved was she. “Silly, soft little crybaby elf”. She internally chided herself. But her heart felt full and it enhanced her magic. Once the task was completed and she could see the new scale starting to form, as delicate and beautiful as a newly hatched butterfly’s wing, she had sealed the spell with a tender little kiss. The sound that it drew from Frank had surprised them both. Flutter had not known dragons could make such a noise.

Flutter fixed him potions to aid in the speed of calcification, so that his armour might be complete sooner. He was huge. He was powerful. He was hurting and had a target on him and she wanted to keep him safe.

She had confounded him somewhat by not wanting any gold though. For a dragon this simply did not compute, Frank was not sure he has heard her right. Jewels then? Perhaps an emerald to match her eyes? He had several in his horde the size of her head. Oh how she had blushed! And how pleased he was to see it. It had sounded corny in his head, but her reaction gave him confidence. Maddeningly though, she had not wanted jewels either. He had thrown his hands up in frustration, snorting smoke and sending little sparks dancing through the air. Flutter had giggled then, for she would not be cowed by what was- in her eyes- such an endearing display.

“What, then? What would you have as payment from me?” Frank was vexed, exasperated. He could not for the life of him understand her reluctance to accept wealth. But neither could he stand to leave a debt unpaid.

“Promise you’ll come back, so I can see how you’re healing?”

Flutter answered his question with a question.

Frank exhaled a plume of bluish smoke in mild frustration. As far as he was concerned the scale had been replaced, it would harden and then he’d be back to being damn near invincible.

But it wasn’t just the scale she was talking about. Flutter had felt his pain when she’d touched him. She could still feel it, quietly searing her under her fingernails. It burned so cold and she knew if she let it, this pain might freeze his heart. Ice has no place in a dragon’s heart.

“Please?” She implored, taking one of his large, clawed hands in both of hers tentatively.

Frank felt something catch, his breath? Something in his throat? It hitched as he was caught off guard like this. A low, sulky rumble emanated from the dragon as he pouted, although it was hard to tell with those fangs unless you were really paying attention.

Flutter was and she suppressed a giggle.

“Very well..” Frank regarded her with mild irritation, but mostly curiosity. Strange little thing she was. His brow arched as he noted she still held his hand in hers. It was so warm.. a different heat altogether from the inferno of dragon’s fire. More like sunshine? He puzzled, swallowed, suddenly feeling a little restless.

“I will return so you may check up on your patient.”

Yet her hand lingered!

“No more than a moon’s time, please?” Flutter’s gaze was clear and startlingly intense, her concern was obvious, but he fancied there was a flicker of something else in there too? Something that made the dragon’s tail twitch involuntarily and drove up his core temperature.

“Yes!” He huffed, trying to roll his eyes and shrug off the feeling.

“Promise?” Her expression had softened as her grip loosened. He found he missed that touch already.

Frank relaxed his shoulders and gave her a very toothsome, but tired smile. It might have been terrifying under different circumstances, but it got her smiling back at him and he noticed she had dimples.

“Promise.” Said the dragon, closing his large hand around hers now and squeezing very carefully so he did not break her bones.

The action got her to drop her gaze for a beat with a shy smile that gave him a huge rush of satisfaction. Smug dragon is smug. He had to stop his tail from wagging and betraying his sense of triumph.

When he flew off that day, they may have separated physically, but neither of them left the other’s thoughts. Nor would they, for many a year.

[fleetwoodmoth]

Raising Flames

In Every Life I Will Find You

Touya Todoroki has burned himself up.

In the aftermath of a spectacular fire show, he limps away to die like an animal in the brush, but fate has another idea for him.

The Todoroki family rule over the kingdom of Endo, and the prince has been missing for years, now he lay dying only for a witch drawn by fated love to find him and change the trajectory of his life.

AO3 Version

Warnings: Blood Magic Self-Harm, Gore, Body Horror.

Hey, first time back writing in.... like a year now and of course it's for my perfect princess Dabi. Some notes, the self-harm in this and future chapters will be due to Blood Magic, think blood mages from DA.

This is a fantasy au, loosely based on the art from the pop polls and anime ending. Loosely based on canon events (ie Touya becoming Dabi, his first "death" and his second "death") NOT Enji friendly. Enjoy :)

It's one thing to dream of someone calling out your name, always too far away to find, it's another to hear it when you wake from your warm bed and hear it again.

As soon as Moth is cognizant enough to realize the call isn't just in their dreams, they feel a sharp panicky pain in their chest, poking at the back of their ribs.

Go. Go now. It instructed.

Find him before it's too late.

Moth stumbles out of bed and into their thick cloak and woolen shawl, before grabbing the lanter by the door and lighting it.

The night was cold, the full moon bright enough the lantern was almost unneeded. Almost. The pull in Moth's chest is pointing them in a direction and they run like their life depends on it. They're not running from something, they're running towards it.

Moth's lungs burn, branches reach and scratch at their round cheeks, tug at the messy white locks, but they don't slow down, not until that pull gets so strong it's hard to figure out where it's taking them.

There, on the forest floor was a figure, covered from head to toe in soot and ash, black in the silver moonlight that peered down at them through the canopy.

It felt like time had slowed, and for one agonizing second Moth thought the pull was to a corpse. But then there was a shakey, jagged inhale, and a wheezing exhale.

They were alive.

Moth doesn't hesitate, their feet moving before they can even think. They are at this figure's side in a flash, falling to their knees and searching out a pulse. This close Moth can see more details past the black soot. The hair is short and white beneath the ashes like their own, and the skin, *oh the skin*.

Moth knows they have little time, maybe no time but that eerie voice once again screams at them. Hurry.

They place their fingers to his throat and close their eyes, calm their breath and count. A faint flutter of a heartbeat barely jumps beneath his skin.

"Are you with me?" Moth's voice is strained but determined.

They expect nothing, so when he moves, when he lets out a wheezing breath of words, Moth jumps.

"Who... who are you?"

"I'm Moth, what's your name?"

Good. He was breathing and talking. Moth removes their cloak and places it over his tattered form, the remainder of his clothes burned into his skin. Moth wraps him and rolls him over. It's a grim sight, one Moth has never seen before. Some of the skin was black with burns, large swaths of it missing, exposing the raw flesh beneath, oozing blood, and even the soft tissue was eaten away by the flames on his face. Moth was surprised he could even speak.

But that's not what churns their stomach. It's the fact that even his *eyes* are gone.

"T--" his breath catches, the sound painful, and Moth jumps. He was succumbing to shock.

Moth had never seen any damage of this magnitude before. It required healing immediately.

Moth reached for the necklace tucked into their nightgown which was now stained in blood. A small knife sheathed in leather hung from the cord. With little ceremony Moth cut the flesh of their upper forearm, and allowed the blood to collect in their palm. With a silent chant they placed the palm against the man's skin. They could feel the burns, feel in a strange numb way, where the damage was, and it was everywhere.

Moth could only hear their own heartbeat loud in their ears, and they counted each one as another second lost, another second to losing him. So they worked faster, another slice, another payment made. And it worked, they could feel it working, blood beginning to flow, veins healing, organs stitching themselves back together.

Moth listens, holding their own breath, to hear the rise and fall of his breathing.

"Tou-a," again Moth jumps, the word is a hiss rather than a word.

Moth shifts focus to his face, closing their eyes and letting the healing take its course. They could hear the strangled moans of pain, they knew this was the hardest part. The split skin of his lips begins to seal, his eyelids begin to grow back over fresh eyes, the flesh mending and layers of fat and tissue and veins begin to rebuild.

Finally, the open wounds are sealed, his tongue no longer charred.

"Tou-ya," it takes him two breaths to finish the single word.

"Touya?" Moth asks softly, trying to keep the strain from their voice.

"Where?" Is all he manages but Moth understands.

"In the forest outside of Endo," Moth says calmly, deciding he is stable enough for them to move him, "we're going to my cottage so you can get proper care, okay?"

Hoisting him up he groans, as Moth draped his arm across their shoulders and half carried half guided him through the trees, he moves his legs enough to shuffle on.

"It's too cold out here, the nights have been growing longer, haven't you noticed?" Moth asks and again he groans in reply, it didn't matter much, as long as he kept responding.

The walk was double as hard as before, not only was Moth ill prepared to lug a whole human man through the underbrush, but they no longer had a free hand for the lantern.

Finally though, as their legs shook from exertion and breath came harsh and heavy, the small, squat cottage came into view. It was a haven among the trees, thatched roofing over sturdy walls of woven logs. A large white dog comes trotting out as soon as the two of them come into view. She sniffs at Moth then the stranger, before nosing at his hand.

"Ursa," Moth hisses, shooing her off, making way for the two of them to stumble through the front door.

Moth lowers him to the bed, cradling his head like a child's before moving with purposeful strides across the small space.

A hearth, a small preparation area for food, a workbench for craft, a washing tub and the nook for the bed and wardrobe. It was small but held everything Moth needed.

"That was my dog," Moth says as they finally return to the bedside, "her name is Ursa, you'll get to meet her when you're properly healed."

They want to keep him focusing on something, anything, just to keep him fighting.

"Why were you in the woods, Touya?" Moth asks, saying his name to get his attention.

It seems to work, his freshly healed, swollen eyelids slide open and Moth feels their heart clench.

"Why can't I see anything?" He asks, clearly trying to keep his tone harsh to try and drown out the waver in it.

"I haven't finished healing them, you'll get your eyesight back soon, I promise," Moth insists as they begin to work at cleaning and tending his wounds.

If they could they would pour more blood into repairing his skin, but their resource was *limited*. Blood for blood, that was the magical theory. Traditional healing would need to be used in the interim.

"What do you want?" He speaks from behind clenched teeth, white eyes staring blankly at nothing.

"I want to help you," Moth says, focusing on cleansing and treating the burned flesh with the highly potent poultices they had in hand. Not nearly enough for a whole body, but they could make more.

"How much?"

Moth stops, looking down at him. He was clinging to life and yet still was on his guard.

"You staying alive," They finally reply, before continuing their work.

Peeling the fabric free of his skin is the hardest part, the skin, or lack thereof, beneath it clings to the fabric and is imprinted with the weave of what was formerly white robes. Moth feels their throat clench at the sounds of his pained groans, ones he seems to try to repress by how strained they become.

"One more healing session," Moth says, more to themselves than to him.

Reopening the earlier wounds is not hard, and soon the blood is flowing again, following the map of the previous letting down their arm and into their palm. Moth knew they were pushing it, could feel the low hum of pain starting to leak into their temples. But slowly, they feel him begin to breathe easier, some of his muscles relaxing as the tissue was repaired. And then there were the eyes.

Moth watched as his lids fluttered and he hissed, pinching his eyes closed, before slowly his expression relaxed. He blinked a few times, before looking at Moth through thick white lashes.

"Mom?" He rasps, his voice small.

"Touya?" Moth says quietly, reaching out to rest a hand on his forehead, to try and help him come fully to the surface, but instead he blinks again, his eyelids drooping before finally they close.

Panicked, Moth uses the connection to feel for pain or damage, but they can feel his heart pumping strong, his lungs drawing clean breath, his stomach no longer leaking acid into his body. He was sleeping. Or maybe unconscious was a better term.

Either way, Moth was able to pull back and bandage themself, before continuing to treat his wounds.

Once he was well bandaged, Moth moved on to monitoring him. He would need twenty-four hour care, but Moth had the means, and he was in dire need. So they sat vigilantly, or rather, layed by the bedside on the floor, propped up on pillows. He needed his rest, and they were going to be there when he woke up.

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

The Unsealed Skies (6)

AN: The gif is not mine - I found it on google. Credits to the original owners of the gif.

Warnings: injury, mentions of insecurity and past infidelity, and violence.

Growing up, your mother had often said that your level of stubbornness rivalled your father’s and for the first time in many years, you considered the possibility that she was correct.  As the shadows grew and the daylight faded, you remained hidden within the depths of the forest.  You knew that you were being childish but you were past the point of caring.

Your thoughts continually circled around the moment that you had found Ares and Aphrodite entangled in the sheets.  There was no denying that the goddess was beautiful; many deities were but it was Ares’ unwavering confidence when he informed you that this was to be a common, expected occurrence when the both of you were married that buzzed around in your mind.

The air grew still and cold, distracting you from your memories.  There was an echoing crack and growling sounded close to you.  As you cautiously rose from a sitting position into a standing one, you glimpsed a massive blue blur rushing through the forest, moving far quicker than its size would have you believe it was capable of.

“How did one of them find their way to Midgard?

The last time a bilgesnipe had been sighted on Asgard, it had taken the considerable efforts of Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three to subdue it.  You did not have your brother’s strength or his allies so it would be reckless to engage the beast directly.  But maybe you could return it magically to Jotunheim and spare the inhabitants of Midgard unnecessary pain.

Once again, you found yourself having to reveal your location to protect others.  “This is becoming an all too familiar occurrence.”

You could hear the bilgesnipe continuing to crash around in the forest and after you inhaled deeply, you grabbed its attention by using your powers to levitate a bunch of rocks and through them at the rampaging beast.

The bilgesnipe let out an insulted bellow.  It changed direction immediately and sprinted towards you with its sides heaving.  Up close, the beast was admittedly impressive.  It stood taller than Slepnir with four powerful, muscled legs that ended in paws tipped with razor sharp claws.  Its heavy tail swung from side to side knocking down the trees in its path.  By contrast, the beast’s eyes were small, red, and dim as it relied on its other senses during the hunt for prey.

As you stood opposite the beast, you remembered a story of your grandfather trying to ride a bilgesnipe in his youth.  The bilgesnipe snorted, revealing its pointed fangs and sharp teeth but as you made no move to attack it, the tail of the beast stopped swinging to and fro.

You were just about to speak to the beast and explain your plan when it charged towards you.  You ducked out of the way but its fangs scraped your knuckles causing you to wince at the sudden pain and cold.  With your uninjured hand, you created a shimmering vision of Jotunheim.  The beast wasted no time and ran directly at it.  The image didn’t harm the beast as it passed through and it winked out of existence the second that the beast’s tail had left the forest.

Gasping for breath and from pain, you chanced a look at your injured knuckles and wished you hadn’t.  They were badly grazed and there were dots of blue around the outside of the grazes.   Despite your talent at healing magic, you had used a good portion of it recently and your magic needed time to recharge.

You could heal the blue dots that decorated your skin with no worries but you wouldn’t have enough magic left to heal the grazes and the longer you stayed in the forest, the more danger you would be putting yourself in.

With another sigh, you waved your hand over your injured knuckles, and just as you had anticipated, the blue dots vanished and the cuts remained.  With no other option, you made your way back to the refuge.

[nicsalazar]

Blood for parts || Nicole & Parker

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Pines PARTIES: @wonder-in-wings & @nicsalazar SUMMARY: Parker adds a new item to his collection CONTENT WARNING: Surgery tw, drug manipulation tw, animal cruelty tw.

It was getting antsy. Nicole had gotten better at discerning when it was her own anxiety clawing at her ribcage —akin a flutter, like dead things crawling beneath her sternum— and when it was the jaguar demanding attention. That was a cold strike, right in the middle, expanding and pulsing until Nicole felt her heart jump at her throat. It was like that right now. Had been for the better part of a week. She had neglected it too long, and not for the usual reasons. Work had been demanding, in the thick of fire season she could count the days she was back home with the fingers on one hand. And when she got respite, she had to handle things like hunters coming out of nowhere making attempts on her life or beasts trying to drown her. Or fucking goo. And then, all she wanted to do with the precious time that remained was to spend it with Leah. It was all— It was just hard, finding time to reacquaint herself with the beast.

A beast that she still liked keeping at arm's length, anyway. So maybe, she was just trying to find justification for her own conscious choices. But it had been patient, Nicole had to concede. It deserved one night to finally get some fresh air.

She had left her car behind, walked almost a mile to venture deep in the heart of the forest, where the light barely filtered. She was far away enough that she wouldn’t have to worry about people getting a look at a Jaguar. The two had seemed to have reached an agreement with that, at least. She hoped. Releasing the monster with the condition it didn’t wander off to dangerous places.  

The jaguar —her jaguar, she had to start using the right words— was a temperamental creature. Nicole had to let it come out when it was ready, willing. Hardly ever did so at her command, so when she reached her usual spot, it didn’t surprise her that the pulsing in her body was gone. She readied herself anyway, placing her clothes and items somewhere she would remember to get back to. She inhaled, slow and big, holding for a second then releasing with a shaky breath. 

Hello?

An intense cold struck her chest, wrapping around her ribcage. At least it was awake. Stirring. Nicole felt pressure behind her eyes, a known sign of something shifting. And when she blinked, the night revealed itself through the beast’s eyes. Clearer, sharper. Picking up on everything that hid behind the trees.

It was a matter of time before—

The cramp in her leg sent her to the ground. Fuck. Unexpected and fucking rude. But she had to ignore the pain. It was happening. It was here, Cold sweat dripped down her neck, her heart pounding erratically. Nicole heaved, anticipating the pain about to overcome her. This part didn't get any easier. Her brain was still firing, letting go wasn’t something she excelled at. Part of her wished to retain control, which never made the battle easy for the jaguar. Her hair stood on end, goosebumps spreading across her skin. It would be over soon, though. It would be done in a second… The Jaguar was more lenient these days.

Breathe. That voice anchoring her final echo of conscience never felt like her own. It came from nowhere, disembodied. Overhead, inside. Everywhere. Strong, yet soothing. Connecting Nicole to something beyond her comprehension. Ancestral power, and magic seeping from within. 

Muscles tore, bones snapped, but no blood was spilled. It was the last thing Nicole registered. An ethereal mist billowed from the cracks, gliding over human skin and engulfing the body completely. In a mix of wisp and flesh, the beast emerged freely, releasing a powerful roar. And like any feline, regardless of size, it stretched, welcoming the extra space around its playground.  

The forest, any forest really, was ideal for Parker nowadays. Given the past… month or so, with its instabilities, uncertainties, and mood swings that didn’t exist before in any comfortable plane of existence in his mind, the Warden was on the road to recovery. Again. As usual. Every once in a while he was reminded by himself that hunters were inherently flawed, not through their own actions, but through a fundamental mutation in their dna. To be a hunter in any capacity was to experience pain. The same could be said about humans but that wasn’t entirely true either, was it? He didn’t know the ins and outs of shifters and the undead but even the informal names for them seemed to answer the curiosity about whether or not they felt anything.  The Warden used to not think about it.

He’d had a lot of misadventures in the past few weeks. A lot of emotions he didn’t know existed and among those he did, he had no idea he was capable of feeling them. Parker had encountered a grifter, the shifter whose tail he managed to not take, the nymph whose tail he managed to take, what he presumed to be a demon and someone he refused to believe as such. He spent a much more significant amount of time crying, ruining his less important belongings and second-guessing himself than he’d ever have liked. His sleep schedule was in tatters, ripped to shreds by the despair and terror of those emotions that he’d accidentally absorbed from the godforsaken crystal in that alley.

Very few of those emotions that had plagued him the past couple of weeks were retained. The pendulum was so desperate to stop moving, to stop feeling anything that the first day after Rayne had helped him, Parker didn’t leave his house. He sat in the comfortable high-backed chair in his basement, illuminated by the warm glow of the lamp on the table from that morning after a last, fitful sleep until it was so far into the night that the upstairs was darker than the downstairs. He sat, in complete, serene silence. He sat, staring at the fractions of his collection, feeling scraps of emotion trying to push through the cast-iron wall he erected.

He didn’t feel anything.

A roar abruptly shook him out of those ruminations and instinctively, Parker’s gaze became alerted and he hastily retreated to the safety of a thick tree trunk. His hand rested on his thick leather belt, the familiar belt from which hung several different tools, his needle-like knives and pouches. A few weeks ago, the sound wouldn’t have given him pause or thoughts to concern himself with and even now, he wasn’t scared but there was certainly something familiar about that roar in particular. It belonged to a big cat.

A jaguar, if he had to guess. Parker licked his lower lip and his sharp blue eyes started to glance around for the source, hoping that whatever it was wasn’t behind him.

The roar that reverberated in the night air as it broke loose was glowering. Any remaining creatures might have vanished before the sound stopped resonating against the trees. What followed was a tiny, content chuff, as a nod of appreciation to the human for its release. There weren’t many spontaneous outings anymore. Not since the dormant human had tightened control. Although strained, the relationship was slowly moving toward understanding.Toward coexistence in harmony. The jaguar would never accept taming, but the compromise worked. For now. The beast sauntered, stretching its limbs, tail low as it felt no threat in the vicinity. Content to be outside again. Its amber eyes glazed over, capturing the night with more lucidity than its human counterpart.

At last, the beast was free to roam where it belonged. To feel the night breeze against its fur, ruffling orange and black hues. To sense the ominous energy pulsing underground, and listen to the humming of life within the forest. The jaguar had always been intended to exist in this manner. Connected to the earth. Delicate ears and eyes scanned the area for potential victims that might have been unable to flee. Because nature was a beautiful thing, entwined to the animal in more than one way, but the jaguar had spent too long in captivity not to savor the thrill of a hunt. 

However, the beast’s plans changed in an instant.

The air suddenly sizzled with new energy, and the jaguar’s instincts kicked in. Danger loomed. The animal paused when it became aware of a second presence nearby. Keen ears perked up at each suspicious rustling of leaves. Expectant eyes shone in the shadows. Observing every detail, looking for threats. Awaiting. There was a blur of orange and black as the jaguar turned towards the encroaching sounds, claws out and teeth bared to defend itself.

Amid the trees and the shadows, a man stood. The jaguar inhaled, committing to memory the scent of its victim. It had never smelled human blood like that before. Tilting its head in curiosity, the jaguar turned slowly, taking long strides as it crept silently toward him. Movements smooth, approach measured. But only for so little. The smoldering gaze was transfixed on the tall figure. Hungry for too long. Aching for a big meal. This was an ideal position for the jaguar to be in, stalking its prey from behind. The beast didn't want to wait any longer, it drooled at its future victim inched closer. And perhaps, it was this desire that overshadowed the usual precision for stealth attacks.The jaguar leaped with terrible force. Claws plunged into flesh, a death grip on its prey, and the energy of the blow sent them both crashing against the forest floor, the jaguar momentarily pinning down the man.

All things considered, Parker probably should’ve been more well-prepared on the chance that he’d encounter something unfamiliar or outside of his specific wheelhouse of expertise - to say that Wicked’s Rest was a hotspot for supernatural creatures was something of an understatement to him. He’d already interacted with a jaguar shifter twice, not even knowing what to call them, and neither time had been preferable. He did learn a thing or two about them, though… they weren’t like what he knew of werewolves, at least not in their entirety. He also did more research into jaguars in general as essentially they seemed to act identical even if it was a shifter who transformed into one. Jaguars were… cats. They were adjusted for seeing in the dark that surrounded Parker, light on their feet to allow easy stalking and dextrous. And their fangs were large. This was seemingly common knowledge for people who weren’t him, who specialized in insects, alligators and snakes but never paid any attention in the way of nonhuman mammals. ‘You really should’ve paid more attention’ he heard his brother say in his head as he heard nothing (which tracked with his notably poor hearing to begin with) and felt claws in his skin, effortlessly tearing through his shirt and being forced to the ground. A weight was on top of him and his lightning quick reflexes didn’t seem to be fast enough as Parker gasped sharply from the pain of both the punctures in his flesh and his shoulder aching as he landed on it. In the next instant, as he felt the oppressive force of the jaguar pushing against him, he pulled the long dagger from the holster on his thigh and he swung in a broad gesture, not caring what he hit or how he hit it - he wasn’t going to be able to do much of anything if he couldn’t move sufficiently.

From its position, crushing its prey under the weight of its massive paws, the jaguar couldn’t have been more favored. Its victim was much larger than the average prey usually found in this forest. Generally, the jaguar wasn’t inclined to attack humans, satisfied with the scraps it was able to get with each outing. Coyotes, deer sometimes. Moose once, but it was already half eaten. So when the opportunity presented itself —such tremendous prey, so easily caught— it would be unthinkable not to take advantage of it. 

Hot blood oozed from the man’s wounds, causing the jaguar to lick its muzzle in anticipation. Feral and hungry. Its most lethal weapon against prey, the bite, would guarantee a quick death. The jaguar bared razor sharp teeth, claws dug deeper into his muscles, blocking any attempt to escape as it readied for the final strike. What the jaguar didn't know was that the man, its prey, was carrying a weapon on him. A few of his aimless attempts tore off white underbelly, blood splattering onto his face as result. The jaguar cried out in pain and retreated, not before scratching the victim a few more times, with the intention of stopping the attacks and severing the man’s arm if it could. The jaguar jumped off the man’s body, back on soft grass, slowly smearing it with its blood. But the beast wouldn’t let a small scratch deter it. Glowering eyes were fixed on its victim, waiting for its next move. The most instinctual part of the animal, the part that kept it alive for five years, urged it to retreat, to run. But the arrogant part, the part that wanted its rightful place among wildlife, knew what a fearsome beast it was, needed to test its rival’s strength and come out on top. Prove itself superior. A simple knife wouldn’t be strong enough to stop the beast. In fact, it was an insult to believe so. This need to run away and escape was sometimes strangely as if the human within bled onto the beast’s psyche. Scared, weak. It was that split second of beast or human conundrum that gave the man on the ground a moment to gather himself.

Parker wasn’t the type of person to cry out in pain; even when Felix’ jaguar had latched its claw into his face, nearly blinding him and cleaving down to the bone, he didn’t yell. That was the case now, even as he felt the creature’s claws embedding themselves deeper into his flesh. The Warden’s blood, wanting to react instinctively but not suited for a non-fae, seeped from the openings between the thick claws and his skin and he felt it harder to catch his breath. Parker wondered, for a moment as he felt the stinging from the puncture wounds, if he was actually going to die and rather than feel a primitive fear, he was more or less disappointed. Sad, even, at how he never got to finish his collection. So when his wild swinging managed to get the creature to back off (though not before wrenching its talons through his arm, eliciting another involuntary, though restrained grunt of pain), Parker relied further on those enhanced reflexes and scrambled to his knees at least while the beast glared at him. Crimson from his wounds splashed the ground, mixing with the jaguar’s on the dark forest floor and he felt his arm throbbing - dislocated shoulder, most likely, as well as bleeding from the deep gashes that now wrapped themselves around his shoulder and bicep. Though he wanted to address it, he didn’t dare take his own steely blue eyes off the warm ambers of the jungle cat. It hesitated and Parker scanned his brain for information he retained and since learned, both about jaguars in general and from his interactions with Felix; jaguars weren’t native to Maine, obviously. That meant it had either escaped from the zoo, which Parker wasn’t even sure there were any in the Wicked’s Rest zoo, or there was a person inside of the animal, in a metaphysical sense. Unfortunately, the Warden didn’t grant this one the luxury that he had to Felix, indeed using that experience to color this one and he quickly came to the conclusion that he wasn’t a ranger so even though his strength exceeded that of non-powered humans, he lacked the knowledge to sufficiently fight the balam. Plus, even as he bled out from multiple injuries and had trouble moving the fingers on his dislocated arm, he wanted to stare at the creature’s tail. He failed once, an error he didn’t want to repeat. He couldn’t ignore that his arm needed attention before he could harvest, though. And in order to do that, he needed to try sedating again. So, keeping his icy eyes on the darkened figure of the snarling beast, he dropped the dagger with enough force that it stuck out of the blood-smattered ground and he used a strong hand to pull three of the thin, needle-like daggers from his belt, holding them in a cluster in a large palm and… he waited. He wasn’t going to engage the creature on his own terms, they were going to fight on its own. He just needed to be quicker, just a little.

The human was a mess. Weakened by the claws, arm dangling oddly, bleeding onto the forest floor. The jaguar was determined not to give up another meal. Not after the red mist threatened its life and spoiled a sizable prey last time. Feline eyes met human ones, and the beast recognized a predator in its opponent. His demeanor, his reluctance to surrender. To run for safety. It snarled, understanding what was about to unfold. Proud and certain it would come out the victor. The dagger fell to his feet, stopping the jaguar’s movements. Feline instinct came to the forefront, as the creature stared curiously. A paw swiped in the air, almost as if it wished to play with the blade on the ground, but discarding the idea after a beat. Eyes locked onto the man after the distraction, watching him pull out a different kind of sharp object out of his stomach.

The Jaguar could see it had the physical advantage, despite pacing with a stagger due to the slashing wound in its flank. Another roar boomed; Another warning, a chance for its enemy to retreat. Head tilted to the side, the animal didn’t blink, unable to comprehend the sight. The man simply waited. Amber gaze took in its adversary. He would’ve been worthy of respect had they not found themselves in a battle for survival. Ears pinned in defiance, a ferocious gaze bore into him. Something shifted within the animal as amber stared into blue. The beast didn’t want to wait longer, mouth watering as the smell of his blood reached its nose. Hunger ready to be sated. 

The jaguar could have retreated. It had done a good job — though less precise than other times— in mangling the man, who might bleed out from his wounds sooner rather than later. And then, it could feast. But the jaguar was far more stubborn than Nicole, who always fought for survival above anything. The animal felt her influence, the fight to get back in control stirring inside, sinking hot into its chest. Yet hind legs were quick to spring, catching the man again for another tussle. This time, there was less of a collision and more of a shove, weakened by the blood loss, inexplicably restrained by other forces and the strike missed where it was intended to land —the head, where it should have killed in one blow—and instead found purchase somewhere between the ground and his shoulder. Unintentionally, lowering its head offered the man a better angle to unleash the trick up his sleeve.

The roar echoed through the woods, banging off of the trees and distorting itself to anyone who might’ve heard it in the distance. Having grown accustomed to the sound, however, and with only one working ear and the fresh spikes of pain keeping his mind from giving in to a primal fear at staring down a mighty jungle cat, Parker’s eyes narrowed slightly as he anticipated the next move. He wondered if there was any hidden rationale behind the molten gold stare. He wondered if there was an internal battle between the human and the jaguar; his talk with Felix had only made him more cognizant of the fractured splinters of knowledge that it was a vessel torn in two… or perhaps, two halves of a vessel merged into one. The human, the jaguar. Felix’ jaguar’s name was Wildcat; did this one have a name designated? Did this creature think in terms a human would, understand complex ideas or heed instruction? Or was Parker correct in his assumptions that the jaguar was a safety precaution, something for the human to fall back on and hide behind when the human was being threatened or inconvenienced? Did the person really respect the jaguar? Because it seemed like Felix didn’t until the Warden started undignifying himself by insulting the shifter. And really, was he wrong? Felix the human couldn’t do much, if anything, compared to Parker; the jaguar, whether they liked, hated, tolerated or rejected it, was a bodyguard. ‘Shifters are probably the most pathetic’, his father said to the brothers once, replaying in his mind as the spotted predator leapt at him again, time seeming to slow once more. ‘Vampires and zombies are mindless but the solutions to distract ‘em till you can put ‘em down are easy as hell - blood ‘n brains.’ The jaguar rammed him, pushing him back with a powerful shoulder as more claws caught in his thigh. Teeth pushing against his belt and the tips of fangs puncturing his waist. ‘Shifters are pathetic because you can’t reason with an animal. You can’t reason with any nonhumans but animals are the worst about it.’ Parker was forced against the tree he stood near, held in place by the weight of the animal and feeling his teeth clench as his dislocated shoulder was pressed into the rough bark but his lightning reflexes saw the opportunity he was presented - the hole in the armor, the achilles heel. Swiftly, sucking in his stomach to avoid the large canines from reaching any deeper into his flesh from about the thick leather belt, he brought his hand down and plunged the three needles into the jaguar’s exposed neck. A thumb quickly moved between all three of them, pressing the mechanism that shot the sedatives out of the needles and coursing through the jaguar and now… all he could do was hope that it would’ve been enough. ‘Then again, you can’t be reasoned with either, can you boy?’

It was barely a sting, an inconvenience. Small animals had done more damage. The jaguar felt it, sharp against its broad neck, but wasn’t detracted from what was attempting to do, which was to tear through the man’s abdomen. The human was strong opposition, however. Stronger than any other human it had encountered before, even with his wounded flesh dangling between them. And maybe that’s what his distinct blood meant. The struggle for dominance was more balanced than originally perceived. 

The agent introduced to its system took time to spread to, time where the jaguar continued thrashing about with furious strength, fangs and claws still sharp and damaging, but its movements growing heavier and erratic. A calming haze overtook the creature soon enough, full weight tipping against the human’s body. Something tried pushing against the surface, keep the monster awake. It banged tirelessly against the wall that was the human and beast psyche. Hopeless in its pursuit. 

The beast was drowsy, confused as to why its senses were suddenly numb. His scent weakened in its nose. Its mouth wouldn’t open to deliver the final blow. Limbs gave out and the massive weight fell, a booming noise disrupting the quiet night as it hit the ground. The animal had been rendered useless, completely lulled into a peaceful slumber. At the hunter’s mercy.

The distribution of the sedative through the jaguar was excruciatingly long, or so it felt to Parker as the Warden abandoned the daggers in the big cat’s neck in favor of putting a strong hand against its throat in an effort to keep the wide maw, dripping with saliva and his blood, from causing a more severe injury to his abdomen. His expression did change this time, allowing himself to show more strain as he felt the claws haphazardly tearing into him, the teeth moving under his skin carelessly. For a moment, he wondered if it had been enough, if he should start making peace with his inevitable, yet premature death that night. Then another moment passed, and another, and another as he resisted the weight of the big cat as best he could. Then… less effort. Slowed movements. Claws were retracted and bite force applied lightened pressure against his belt and his stomach. The beast leaned into him, forcibly oozing blood from the multiple holes and shredded gashes the giant claws had punctured into him and he even allowed a ghost of a whimper to escape as his dislocated shoulder was given even less space. And with a final confirmation that the sedative had, indeed, worked, the spotted apex predator fell at his feet. Immediately, Parker gasped for air and he carefully took a couple of stumbling steps away from the jaguar, speckling his belt and the forest floor with his blood. Where he could already feel some of the more superficial wounds starting to knit themselves together and would probably be just faint memories by the following day, he knew the teeth marks in his stomach would probably leave lasting marks and he really should’ve taken the time to stitch yet more jaguar claw marks that found themselves on his arm but he was working under more borrowed time; he only had two sedatives left, that he was sure to use if he needed them.

For now, the Warden got onto the ground quickly, wincing as he felt his muscles rippling under, attempting to relax his muscles. ‘If you need to relocate your shoulder, lay on the ground and relax,’ he heard his mother’s kind, yet firm instructions in his ear; she was always commanding and never seemed to underplay the importance of what she was teaching himself and Walker. ‘Slowly reach the dislocated arm over your head, eventually placing it behind your head.’ Breathing deeply, ignoring the throbbing all over his body, he did so. ‘If you feel pain, you’re going too fast.’ He didn’t, not there, not any more than was usual for the four rivets in his shoulder and bicep. ‘Now reach for your opposite shoulder.’ With a loud pop and a sharp gasp, Parker’s shoulder snapped back into place and he could move all his fingers again.

He didn’t think anything further of the action; he wasn’t proud, relieved or satisfied. No, he only felt purpose and drive as his sharp blue eyes darted back over to the now-sleeping jungle cat. Flexing the feeling back into his fingers, Parker pulled out his usual tools with the exception of the iron dagger used for cauterization and he got to work. He moved fast, but carefully, not allowing himself to get distracted by the beauty of the tail; he was close. He was so close. As he worked, he thought of Wildcat’s melanistic tail, how the black was dappled and swirled with the orange; he thought about how he had made so many mistakes the first time that he was sure not to rectify now and indeed, he ended up using both of his extra daggers as an extra safety precaution.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed as he worked in the dark, eerily still forest night, a surgeon of obsession and beauty harvesting from another participant who couldn’t appreciate what it possessed the way Parker could. But by the time he finished, his hands coated in the jaguar’s blood now instead of his own, he cleaned his tools on one of the two sleeves he’d torn from his shirt. Using the same sleeve, he carefully and securely wrapped it around the bleeding stump, the last remnant of the beautiful, long tail that was now in his possession. He didn’t thank the jungle cat, but as he got to his feet and even more carefully slid the tail into the other sleeve, he did regard it. The sleeping form, the powerful jaws, the thick pelt.

Parker removed his gaze from the jaguar and glanced around the area briefly for any tools he might’ve left behind and when he made sure there weren’t any this time, he turned and started to skulk off, breathing deeply through his nose to keep his trembling hands that were caked with drying blood from tearing themselves up in fervent attempts to scrape it off. He’d need to find a stream on his way to his Workshop.

The jaguar felt no pain, remaining blissfully numb as the hunter worked on slashing its tail. The sedative effect of the darts continued long after he was gone, carrying his new token with him. Hours passed, the pool of blood dried, and the jaguar was peacefully overtaken by its human counterpart. 

Nicole didn’t wake until the colors of dawn splashed the sky. Her muscles were more rigid than usual, hard to achieve considering her job. Her eyelids were so heavy and stubborn, she debated going back to sleep. But she hadn’t been asleep, right? She wasn’t in a comfortable mattress next to Leah. Nor in the beat up sleeping bag she used for work. The memories of the previous night came flooding back. She was— She had gone out, it was time to let the jaguar free. Right. It made sense, how disoriented she felt. How loud every noise reached her ears, how every scent prickled her nose, or how the light might be too bright for her eyes. It always took a few moments to recalibrate after the spirit had taken over. She felt nauseated, mouth dry, neck aching like she slept in the wrong position. It hadn’t felt this bad since— She refused to entertain her painful memories so early in the day. She had a full shift to get through. The jaguar must’ve had fun during its outing. Caught prey or— she didn’t care. The jaguar could do what it pleased, they weren’t a unit.   

Nicole stirred, attempting to stretch, but a sharp pain struck her abdomen. Her eyes were wide open a beat later. Glancing down at the cuts and scratches in her stomach, dried blood mixing with the damp soil. Fuck? She jolted up, to her knees, examining her wounds. It was…bad, but nothing too deep. Nothing Leah’s tears couldn’t fix in a few hours. It stung, burned as a finger poked with curiosity, but it wasn’t the worst pain she’d ever felt. Not even close. The jaguar must’ve wrestled a few animals. The logical, most obvious explanation for her state. It made sense. She couldn’t stay all day lingering on what the beast got up to. She needed to gather her bag and items and go find her car, needed a warm shower to soothe her stiff body. Her muscles tensed, readying herself to get up. And—

Something felt wrong. No, something was wrong. 

It was as if her pelvis was trying to split open. Nicole never imagined she’d had to feel something like that. If that was something that could be felt at all. She gritted her teeth, heaving as she passed the wave of throbbing pain in her lower back. It pulsed for a moment and then it was gone. Nicole didn’t stop panting, breathing hijacked by the anxiety wrapping around her ribcage. Another cut maybe? She reached behind her, palming the expanse of her back. It completely smooth and clean, save for old scars and the remnants of forest floor. Phantom pain. But why would— Her eyes spotted a piece of cloth on the ground, stained with blood. Small needles scattered not far away. An animal wouldn’t leave that, would they? She blinked, wondering what she was missing. but before the puzzle pieces could connect, the worst, most excruciating pain she’d ever felt shot up her spine. 

The air got knocked out of her lungs, her heart beat out of her ears. She shrunk on the ground begging for it to pass quickly. It didn’t, only intensified, every nerve ending on fire. Nothing stopped the scream that ripped her throat raw, sounds of agony piercing the quiet morning, scaring the remaining animals witnessing her torture. She was dizzy with pain, losing her breath, unable to wrap her mind around what could possibly explain this. 

Then it all went back to black again.

[fragileizywriting]

"i think i'm having an identity crisis," kitty exclaims as they walk through the woods. it's brisk and early morning, and even though they're in a completely different world, that doen't mean superheros are allowed to skimp on training. half marathon every other day, supplemented with any other exercise they're thinking of doing.

two hours of hard running all around the woods. chat told them to be careful before they left, advising them to not be too loud because there are monsters and— what was it again?— thieves?— in the forest, too. he said he'll be able to feel if there's a fight going on so there's not too much of a problem if they end up getting into a scuffle.

(and, okay, side note here: the analogy he used about his magic being able to touch all corners of the forest and being able to detect disturbances had reminded her so clearly of star wars fanfiction she used to read a few years ago when the movies were big.

the force, she wanted to say. you're talking about the force. do lightsabers exist? use the force, chat.

she'd spent so long chewing on her lips so she wouldn't end up blurting out if he knew how to force-choke someone or stop blaster beams in midair. she was so close to saying it, though.)

they're completely alone in the forest. woods. thing. she doesn't know the difference; everyone's been using the words interchangeably and she honestly hasn't gotten around to asking just yet. she'll ask adrien when they get back— no, not her adrien, the other one. the literal king. that one. the one who inhales books the way that she inhales food. he's bound to know, right? (god, it's going to be such a mess to write all this down in her diary when she finally gets home. she really needs to find a solution to the name situation. the pronouns are gonna suck, too. she can feel it.)

"you're having an identity crisis?" luka snorts. "seriously?"

"have you even met the other marinette's?" she argues. "one is an empress. queen. whatever. the other is what i would absolutely call a priestess."

"huh, you're right. i noticed that, too. she kind of reminds me of kagome from inuyasha," adrien hums out. he's stretching out his arms, doing what he can in that funny pirates shirt and breeches combo that makes her snort and giggle every time she pays attention to it. their clothes are such a mess. he looks like a prince with no more allowance. he's just missing the sword at the hip, honestly. "i think it's the talisman papers. or maybe the long hair? or maybe even the bangs...?"

"wasn't kagome your first crush?" luka asks.

"actually, endymion from sailor moon was my first crush."

oooohhhh. "it's the shoulder things on mamoru's armor, isn't it?" she asks. "i feel you. those pallbearers are so eighties but so iconic."

"that's absolutely not the name of the shoulder pieces," adrien laughs. "anyway. i liked kagome a lot. kikyo, too. marinette reminds me of the two of them."

"which is why i'm having an identity crisis!"

luka groans. "why are you having an identity crisis?"

"i'm not a witch priestess! and i'm certainly not a queen!"

she's just kitty.

"may i point out that neither of my iterations are korean? neither of them. one is greek. the other one doesn't even have legs. all the marinettes look like they're asian, because they are, which i didn't think would be a feat of accomplishment, but here we are anyway. meanwhile, i'm a lizard thing. greek luka looks like he's in tears at all times, i've never seen myself look so sad before. lizard or sad. it's a renaissance painting."

"if anything, he's a snake."

"he doesn't do the tongue flicking thing. how are you having an identity crises when i don't even have legs?"

she bites back a serves you right for having the longest legs out of the three of us.

[dyketubbo]

For the wc au, maybe the Underscore-Beloved fam?

god didnt want me to finish this. thankfully, im an atheist.

anyways, tubbo would first be known as a stray named "tubs". he was born in a house but ended up getting lost as a kitten and took shelter in a tupperware box (hence the nickname) during a storm, which was the situation crow and wilbur (phil and.. wilbur) found him in. he becomes friends with toms and helps found l'tomclan (get it. l'man. l'tom.) as their healer when they separate from dreamclan (under the name beepaw, then beeheart. mentored by deernose [callahan] with some warrior training from firestrike [sapnap]). when ramsey (schlatt) comes around starclan secretely gives him three lives during ramstars ceremony and he loses one to tusk (techno) during the execution when he gets hit by a branch on fire. eventually becomes beestar, then when that doesnt work out he moves away to an area he calls snowhills and changes his name to snowsting in an attempt to be intimidating. the rest you can figure out

ranboo is a "cat" in a loose sense of the term. at some point there was a clan who got involved with spirits and magic, and.. sort of got taken over by it. they say all that really remains is their shadowy forms with a loose grasp on the earth. some theorize that while there may be a few still roaming around, the rest of the clan got trapped by a mysterious force and need to be let out. but thats just fairytales, and splitpaw clearly does alright being tethered to the earth, so surely everything must be going fine.

as for splitpaw himself, hes found in dreamclan at some point and for a short while, is mentored by dreamstar before disappearing mysteriously one day. until he wanders back to clan territory to find beestar and ends up deciding to be a healer instead, feeling nervous about having to choose sides during a battle. hes mentored by lemoneyes (ponk) for a while before being called inkspill (beestar.. misheard his name and kept calling him spillpaw until he was corrected, and then ended up just putting spill in his name anyways because the other name they were called [splitface] seemed mean). he slowly ends up being the only cat beestar trusts and falls in love (not against the code here). when l'tomclan falls again inkspill takes up the name ink to fit in with crow, tusk, and kindle (niki) while secretly being apart of snowhills anyways. you can fill in the rest (bonus enderboo and ghostboo [spiritspill] designs)

finally, michael. a kit born to a rogue who ended up staying in a shelter willingly after breaking up with a cat who ended up in the dark forest. beestar and inkspill meet the parent and make friends before leaving. eventually though, theres a fire at the shelter, and snowsting and inkspill end up helping. michael survives without too much damage, thankfully, and they also get some thankful new residents in snowhills, win. however, while michael gets treated (his parent decided to stay with twolegs to make sure he would be okay), his parent suffered too much damage and inhaled too much smoke. they were released but.. over a few days get worse and go to snowhills where they know michael would get a better life. snowsting and inkspill take in michael and rename him roosterkit (his parents name being chicken), whose about 2 n a half weeks. he grows to be roosterpaw but does still get kidnapped etc etc you know his deal

[ladyevol]

[This fanfiction takes place in an AU that reimagines Minecraft in a Dungeons and Dragons Setting! I hope you enjoy!]

It was happening again. Everyone else in the island seemed to have found their so-called soulmates and Scar was left all alone just like last time. Had his soulmate really rejected him so early on? He knew he was clumsy and had a tendency to get injured, but he wasn't all bad! He had magic, something most other competitors couldn't fathom besides just a few tricks! He was a prince too and half a shark! Sharks were cool, weren't they? He could protect them- maybe. He wasn't good at actual fighting despite being large and muscular. Those were mostly just for show. But intimidation was still a tactic!

"No matter," he muttered to himself and wheeled through the forest. If he wanted to survive, he would need to start gathering resources and make a base. He would win, even if alone. 

. . .

While exploring and looking for a mine to gather materials and a place to create a base, Scar came across the most amazing finding in the world: Giant Jellies! There were over a dozen of them rummaging through the land in search of what was likely food. Now, Scar had had cats ever since he first came to the surface, but never ones these big! Maybe he wouldn't need a soulmate after all.

. . .

It took him an entire night to gather enough resources to start on a base. The great white shark merman was exhausted by the end. No doubt, this was a task better suited for two, if not for their help, for the distraction of having someone to speak to.

Shaking away his thoughts, Scar made his way outside the mine. In the distance he could see the start of a base, which was curious. He was pretty far away from all the others since he opted to make a base near the giant cats in the island. Curious, he wheeled towards it. 

Behind the spiky walls, barely illuminated was a short aasimar with colorful wings, dirty blonde hair and in a red sweater. "Well, hello there!" 

Grian jumped, having clearly not expected someone there so late or maybe so early. It was adorable how his wings fluttered with distress, "how-"

"Say, Grian, you wouldn't have any fish or meat with you by any chance, would you?"

"N-no, but if you are hungry I can get you some bread."

"No, no, it's not for me! It's for my true soulmates! I will be living with the Jellies!" 

"The Jellies?" Grian's black eyes blinked.

"Yup! The big cats that live not too far from here!" 

"Scar, those are not giant cats! That's a pack of saber tooth tigers! They will eat you alive!" 

"Oh, only if they are hungry, you know how grumpy cats can be when they are hungry! But if you feed them and give them lots of love they can be the best companions in the world!" 

Grian put his hands together and inhaled, "you are insane, you know that? Actually insane! Do you have no regard towards your ACTUAL soul mate?!"

"The Jellies are my soulmate and if I had any other soulmate, maybe they would deserve for us to get devoured considering that they haven't even bothered to say hi."

"Scar…"

"That is a joke, Grian! Trust me, I'm a cat expert. I know what I'm doing!" 

Grian stared at him for a few moments and then sighed, "ok, listen, I will go there with you, ok? Just- wait until I'm done with the walls and I will come, but promise you won't try anything until then, ok?" 

"Yeah, of course! You've got a Scar word!" One Scar had no intention of keeping with the fingers crossed behind his back.

. . .

After leaving Grian's base, Scar was lucky enough to find a nearby river brimming with life. While he wasn't the most skilled person on land, Scar was an absolute ace when it came to swimming. When he jumped inside, the fish swam deeper into the water, a smart strategy to deal with surface dwellers, but a useless one against an amphibious apex predator such as himself. They stood no chance. 

After several hours fishing, with the occasional break for a snack because fish were delicious, Scar headed to where he had first encountered the Jellies while looking for his soulmate. They were all asleep together, some cuddling in what had to be one of the cutest scenes he had ever seen. They even had babies. He must have gasped a little too loudly, because one of the animals shifted and opened its eyes. Upon seeing Scar, it bared its teeth and stood up slowly, snarling, ready to pounce. The others began getting up as well.

"No, hey, hey, it's ok, I mean no harm!" He assured it and reached inside his bag of holding. He pulled a large fish from inside and tossed it to the beast, "see? I'm a friend! I brought food to all of you!" He tossed more fishes to each of the animals surrounding him. They sniffed the offerings before happily devouring them. He had noticed they seemed rather skinny, so they more than welcomed the meal.

Scar smiled, continuing to feed them until another one of the giant cats approached him. This one was larger than the others and was side-eyeing him. The creature larger than two lions continued forward, enough so to make the merman swallow. He knew she could easily overpower him if she wanted. After a few uncomfortably long moments, she finally decided to eat as well. Once all of them were finished, they all laid down again and went back to sleep, seemingly unbothered by his presence. That made Scar smile. 

Finally, somewhere he was welcomed to.

[rebelquilled]

❛  i  wish  i’d  been  there .  ❜

moon sentence starters

        “I THINK THAT OFTEN.”  voice was a tremble on the breeze that brushed through their camp.  the noises of the forest swallowed her words whole, drowning them in the late night songs of bugs and birds.  the stars overhead WINKED at the two from between where branches twisted and turned, trying to block the view of the expanse above.  xayah sometimes felt it she just reached up, her hands could grasp the dust and twilight would rain down over her form.  p r o m i s i n g her its love forever, the protection and support of nature.  surely the sky was on her side even if she fought for the magic of the earth.

        uncomfortable shift, suddenly pulling her gaze away from where she was watching upward alongside him.  now attention was drawn to his form, eyes sliding over every muscle and scar and detail etched into his being.  he was just as beautiful a sight to behold, though she wouldn’t dare say that aloud.  his ego filled enough of the continent without her adding to it too frequently.

                   red lips were now arched into a frown.  thoughtful, sad with an ache like a stone sinking slowly from her chest to her stomach.  somehow the conversation had turned back to the tribe.  how long had it been since she had seen any of their people?  how many even remained?

        xayah knew they did.  had gotten word from her mother.  yet, the details were sparse, foggy.  only that they s u r v i v e d - though the numbers had dwindled.  not many had lived.  their old lands hadn’t.  expression scrunched, shuddering against the memory that tickled the forefront of her mind.  a haunting, and there came the stench of smoke and smoldering flesh to fill her throat, mouth, and lungs.  the sharp inhale she would take was an effort to clear it away, one hand reaching out distractedly to take his own.  fingers traced the lines of his palm.

                       “if i had been there... maybe i could have saved them.”  saved him.  her father...  their people lost to the rage of humans.  just a handful of them, really.  it had been a ragtag group not fond of vastaya.  shadow order, maybe, but that was only speculation ( she hadn’t fully grasped their role back then ).  it didn’t matter.  they revealed their HEARTS, and despite her cries of pain and the lands’ screams of anguish, no mortal had come with regret.  so now they paid at the end of her feathers.

           eyes were once more on him, and features held fury to them, a fight as bright as what had destroyed those innocents.  xayah had turned her back to diplomacy, then.  it didn’t work, after all, look what it had done to so many...  not just lhtolans, but all other tribes.  death, rot, decay, sickness.  the loss of new and birth.  everything vital and strengthening slowly being drained to nothingness.  just husks, ready to be removed when there was nothing left inside.

                               her hold on his hand became stronger.  “but i am also glad we weren’t.  if we had been there... who knows if we would be here.  doing what we have to do to save the vastaya and the first lands.”  she trailed, SOFT twist coming to the edges of her smile.  to the way her eyes fixated upon him.  “who knows if we would be together...”

             fate... destiny...  she wasn’t sure if she believed in them.  that any lifetime or any path, that she and rakan would have found each other...  maybe.  maybe not.  she liked to think she would always hunt him down no matter what existence.  it didn’t matter in the end.  she had him on this trail, and so despite her dwelling in the past some days, the raven knew she wouldn’t change much of the course.  not if it cost her him.

@charmerquilled

[asceticium]

ੈ✩• 𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖑𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖘𝖎𝖓, 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖔𝖓𝖊 • ੈ✩

a witch ought never to be frightened in the darkest forest, because she should be sure in her soul that the most terrifying thing in the forest was her.

ੈ✩• 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔤𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔣  • ੈ✩

revenge: To exact punishment or expiation for a wrong on behalf of, especially in a resentful or vindictive spirit. Revenge was bittersweet because when one was extracting it; you had to dig two graves: one for their enemy and one for them. Because at the end of the day, two people would be six feet under the stars, that was something that Amelia Hamid knew would happen to her, and a part of her was prepared for death while the other part of her wasn’t. She was torn into two. But the blonde female didn’t wasn’t always this way, she once was innocent and full of light and had hopes of changing the world someday. She wanted everyone to see the good in one another. Maybe she was naïve, but she believed in a better world. A girl could dream, right? Dreaming was something that Amelia did constantly, she dreamt of a world that lifted one another and wasn’t consumed by the need to post everything they did daily. Her dreams meant nothing to her family because unfortunately for Amelia, she was a witch; her family's convent was powerful. The Hamid last name held so much weight in the witch community but unlike her two sisters, Amelia didn’t love magic. She didn’t understand why they got the chance to practice witchcraft while more deserving people didn’t. She didn’t understand and even though she loved the power that she had; she just didn’t feel the need to use it but that would all change. The day she lost them all.

ੈ✩• 𝖁𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖙 – 𝕵𝖆𝖓𝖚𝖆𝖗𝖞 𝟑𝟎𝖙𝖍, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟑 • ੈ✩

“Melia, we all know that you don’t want to do this, but will it kill you to try? “ Rolling her eyes clockwise, shaking her head slightly as the words drip from her younger sister’s lips. “I rather be reading a book than partaking in the lesson today but seeing as you two won’t leave me alone, I’ll do my part and then go back to reading. Got it?” Amelia’s chestnut-shaded orbs shifted from her sister’s dark hues and onto the tree, she inhaled a deep breath as her right arm extended outward; dainty digits wiggled, “Phasmatos Incendia. “ The words uttered from her nude petals, and eyes stayed fixated on the tree and in a matter of minutes it was up in flames; the leaves languidly burning, shifting her gaze towards Isabella. “Class dismissed. “ Tuneful titters reverberated from her throat before she pivoted on the balls of her heels, her cranium shaking with each step that she took. “See you two at dinner, try not to burn the house down while I’m gone.”

Orbs widened as her mouth dropped agape, taking a step forward; brown eyes navigating the blood-filled room. The room that was once filled with laughter and joy was now dosed with heartache. Amelia could feel her heart tighten in her chest as she dropped to her knees. “Amelia… “ The voice that resounded from the opposing side of the bathroom door was feeble in nature and despite its lowered octave, she was able to describe that it was her mother who called for her. “Mom…I’m so sorry that I wasn’t here.”

“Mom?” Amelia bellowed before she stood from the confines of her plush duvet to clamber to her bare feet in a bound for the sealed door, the narrow frame of her shoulder having met the wooden structure of the door before her artful appendages followed suit to glean the gilded doorknob before the door collided with the concrete wall. What Amelia saw before her rendered her motionless before evoking the slack of her jaw and the disintegration of her visage. Lucid liquid swelled within the seams of her inferior lids to eclipse the sight of her chestnut pools. Her mother was lying adjacent to the bathtub in a frail slump with ribbons of crimson spewing from the bite marks, tainting her flesh. Her dark orbs had adopted a nearly vacant glaze as they were fractionally shown through the slit of her lids. “M—Mom, who did this? What happened? Please speak to me!” As a dulcet octave faltered to a broken tone that conveyed how battered she was internally, she’d fallen unto the base of her knees in a gesture of sheer defeat. Her mother urged Amelia to get close to her decrepit figure, Amelia walked forth on bare knees until they were met with a pool of her mother’s blood. “Amelia…” She muttered once more in a lethargic tone of voice. Amelia could barely discern between her mother’s tone and the sound of her own unbridled sobs. It wasn’t until she feebly shifted her figure into Amelia’s juxtaposing front that she took heed of her vitality. “Y-you have to go..” She managed to cough each word among a spew of doe crimson. The rattle of Amelia’s head was the greatest protest that she could manage at that moment. “D-don’t argue, A—melia. You need to find…” Another blood-curdling cough and heavy inhalation. “The vampire that did this. They call him Stefan…F—Find him.” With that said, her auburn spheres flitted skyward to meet Amelia’s sorrowful leer before they were corrupted by a barren tint, and her figure was rendered lifeless. In that moment Amelia knew that her life would forever be changed, and her goal was to find this vampire and make him regret ever stepping foot into her home.

Revenge was on the menu and Amelia wouldn’t rest until she got what she wanted, no matter the cost. She no longer had anything to live for so she would die for them.

[sakshiwriter]

It’s only when the forest is drenched in the dark hours, do we fathom that the creatures that looked so appealing and fascinating during the daylight, are nothing but hungry, harrowing predators, waiting for the right moment to pounce and take what is theirs.

Is your life theirs? Maybe not from a mortal man's perspective. Then what are you doing in their territory?

That is what happens when you walk into the unknown, your are oblivious to the threats lurking beneath the thick layer of dried discarded leaves and the wide trunks of hauntingly tall trees.

Maybe it was just a field trip. You wanted to try something new. Or maybe you were out for the hunt.

So which one of those deserves to die?

None of them but it’s not in their hands. It almost always depends on the place, the time, the situation, and the surrounding life they live in.

The morning is beautiful in a forest. The breeze carries luscious scent of green leaves and wood. Twirling through the branches, awakening every creature in its wake.

Bees and flowers alike. Preys and predators alike. You and nature alike.

The walk on the leaves is a dream come true, especially when there is a path ahead, your well-wishers behind you, a backpack full of what you need on your shoulder, a cap to cover your head, clothes to protect you from scratches and medicines to keep away the insects. you even have your dog with you.

There is chatter as you set out to discover nature, clicking pictures, inhaling fruity scent of flowers, skimming the shy leaves, and just living in the moment. The birds chirping are nothing but just a realization of how vast and huge this territory is. But the distance to be travelled doesn't worry you because you have enough time. To reach the other side. You have the road. The map. The company. And the fuel. You have time, you think you have time, so you take your time.

What is on the other side? Something you have always been wanting, something you have been dreaming about. That is what it is, the ultimate happiness for you. You know this beautiful forest is the only way there and you couldn’t be happier.

The sun slowly reaches its magic hour. Each beam of light slithers through the leaves onto the muddy surface, making it the ground look like molten gold. Each ray highlights a million particles as if glitters.

A content sigh escapes you. This is what you love doing. You love being in the life around you. You love admiring nature. You love straining your body and giving your mind and heart the thrill and peace it deserves. You love all of it. You love when you have to sit under a tree’s shade to eat your food. You love to chat with your companions who share their food with you. You love the cold water as it travels down your throat and refreshes you.

But the same things giving you the trill are the tings that allows doubts and uncertainty to consume you. Maybe it’s the sudden burst of wind or the frantic chirping of a flock of birds. An unnerving growl from your dog. It can also be the anxious look in everyone else’s eyes as they look around and tighten their grip on their belongings. They pack things up and suddenly are on their toes. Explaining how you have to be quick. They are using you as a guide. To reach the end and you know it is your responsibility to keep yourself and everyone safe, so you get up, tighten the leash around your hand and move ahead in the now scorching heat.

When did it get so hot?

There is a murmur of discomfort from behind you and you watch as one of the companions turns around to leave. You try to stop them but they are adamant. They just have to leave. They can’t take it anymore. And once they are gone, the seed of insecurity is planted within your heart sprouts. Maybe you should have gotten some more cold water or a fan.

Your dog can sense your mood. It stops and rubs its head onto your thigh, you too stop and caress it gently. Thanking it for its kindness and for always being there with you. it is your family and has been for as long as you could remember. You hear scoffs and voices expressing their discomfort so you keep going deeper and deeper into the forst. The heat is burning through your skin and making you hazy and you suddenly start disliking the discomfort. You are averse to the idea that you have to keep walking in this condition, so you slow down. When you glance over your shoulder, there are only a couple of companions left. You get to know that they were too frustrated with your slow speed. So they chose to take another route. Did they know a different route?

The ones remaining shake their heads. They weren’t too confident. So you just look ahead and keep walking. You are hungry again. You need to rest again. So you stop. But this time, the air is imperative. The sun is lower, no longer serving as a crown to the jungle but as someone who peeked into the depth and brought warning of what lay ahead. Your dog sits beside you and you gently run your fingers through its golden fur glimmering in the evening hour. It gives you peace, more than anyone else can.

You look into the pet’s eyes and you see the same diamonds twinkling with the same energy you had when you started, so you get up, with the goal still persistent in mind and the two companions share a smile, passing a couple of encouraging words. Their smile shrinks when the sun sets a little more and they ask you to keep moving and remind you of your collective goal. Their goal.

It was turning darker by the minute as if with each step you were stepping on the orange sun, pushing it further into the blanket of the horizon. The energy and enthusiasm that you had begun with were now draining down your spine as you overhear the words of your companion. As if they were speaking for you to hear. Suddenly you realize that they have been saying the same slashing and hurtful words for a long time. Quite a long time, but you couldn’t hear them over the joyous voice in your head.

At the now newfound voices, a chill runs down your spine, you are so focused on them that when an bone-shattering howl tears through the air, the leash in your hand slips right through your fingers when your dog breaks into a run. You trip forward, landing on your knees and palms sending jolts of pain up your palms and knees. Your blood is pounding through your ears, your breath coming out shallow when you fall back on your butt and crawl back against a tree trunk.

You close your eyes and, clench them hard in hopes that the pain will disappear. But it only makes you aware of the sudden silence surrounding you. Deep, thick, and clutching silence. Not even a single leaf moved. It was dark, dense, and pitch black everywhere you looked.

No dog, no companions, no sun, no light, no winds, no birds, nothing but emptiness surrounded you. And the howl? Where was it from? Did the voice grip your companions or what did it get to your pet first? The mere thought sent a slash across your heart and you curse yourself. It was all your fault. Just your fault. Only if you hadn’t seen the dream. If only you hadn’t helped anyone to here. If only you wouldn’t have wasted time in admiring instead of focusing on the end. If only the leash was a little bit tight in your palm and if only you weren't so caught up in other’s words.

You kept cursing and mourning the unknown and unconfirmed loss until the wind once again starts blowing. A small whiff of air that carried the scent of flowers and fruits. But you hated it now. Despised every inch of the place around you and inside you. Despised everything you thought was beautiful because it had taken everything away from you,

But you knew that you couldn’t sit any here any longer. Or you too would disappear into thin air with no one to search for you. And what if your dog was alright? What if it was here somewhere? Hope once again strikes within you. And even more than the goal you are now focusing on the one life of your dog. someone who was with you through our your life.

You stand up on shaky limbs, taking the support of the tree, you scratched palm sliding up against the rough wood but you didn’t care. You had to move,. you needed to move. If there is hope it is only now. Now is all you have so you move. Even though you despise the walk, the heavy weight on your shoulders and all the pain this forest has caused you, you follow the trail again, knowing your pet, it would smell you. You don't call out his name, knowing someone unwanted might hear you, instead you keep moving.

You think of giving up a couple of times, one when a large Slytherin crosses your path and you are forced to stay still until it leaves, but the image of your pet warped in the clutches of such a creature forces you to move ahead and faster. The second one was when you heard a rustling in the leaves and a large night owl flew over your head, not close enough to hurt you but close enough for the fear in your heart to tighten painfully. Too painfully.

But then you kept going, and you realized that you had crossed the path twice as much faster and were almost towards the end. A mile or so more and you would be out, but suddenly you didn’t want to reach yet. You wanted to find your pet first. You wanted him to come with you. So giving it your last shot, you call out. Loud and echoing in the dark. And you hear it.

A growl. Deep, guttural, and predatory. Then you see it; two eyes staring at you through a distance. It growls again and the sound almost makes you feel like the dark eyes have already clutched you, and you are at your death. There was no pet, and no more the end. This was to be your last.

As the creature leaps out of the shadows you shut your eyes preparing for the impact, but instead, you feel a breeze past your head and a thud behind you. You don’t open your eyes until you hear a growl again followed by a bark.

A bark.

It is here!

**You whip around and there he is. Wagging his tail with a smile, baring his canines slathered with blood. Your eyes fall down to the creature that attacked you. But instead of fear, love fills your heart, and with the overwhelm you crumple to your knees. The pet pounces on you and into your arms with a soft push. As if it dissolves within you. Its paws gently landed on your shoulder, easing the tension in your shoulder, its head snuggling into your neck, getting the blood on its muzzle on your cheeks in the process. Its soft belly warms your chest as you clutch it harder and thank the universe. Thank it for keeping your pet safe.

But when you open your eyes, he is no more there, you still feel the warmth, the blood, and the untensed shoulders but now the blood is on your hands, tears on your cheeks, and the creature still lying in front of you.

And the reality sets in.

It was you all along.

You did it.